Center of Gravity (Marauders Book 3)

by Lina Andersson

  “I was so sad to hear about the accident, but I don’t want to talk about that on the phone. We’ll get to that when you’re ready for it.”

  “Thank you.”

  And another typical Lisa trait, she’d make me talk about it, pushing just the right amount of what I could handle. It had always been like that. Whenever all the training got to me when I was younger, she noticed and made me talk about it, gave me the positive side, or whatever I needed to continue.

  We decided I’d meet her the next day around noon, she said she’d be there from early morning, so whenever it suited me was fine. I also threatened her with serious bodily damage with the use of my cane if she wasn’t there. I did not want to walk in among those men, and realize I was alone in there.

  CHAPTER TWO

  You’re a Shitty Wingman

  -o0o-

  It was a slow Wednesday, and Mitch was lying on the couch at the clubhouse. He looked around and noticed Mac coming towards him.

  “Finding anyone?” Mac asked as he dropped down into an armchair.

  “Nope. Think I’ll head over to The Booty Bank. Heard there was a new girl working tonight.”

  The Booty Bank was the strip club owned by the Marauders. Almost all of their sweetbutts worked there, and most of the girls working there were sweetbutts. It used to be how the club laundered their money until they came up with a better system for it. They’d still kept the clubs, though.

  Sisco, Mac and the others had been released about eighteen months earlier, and Mitch had been worried that he’d be pushed back to not doing much for the club again, but Sisco’d told him to keep helping. Sisco was good with finances, but didn’t know much about computers, so Mitch was handling that part of the finances. He’d also taken a bigger part in helping Mech with the intel. He liked it, and he especially liked the feeling trusted of being with those things.

  There were other reasons he was glad for having done it, too. Learning how to work the finances had meant traveling around to different clubs to talk to the other treasurers. He’d noticed that the feel of the different charters varied a lot. Some were about family, others were more about partying, and some were basically a bunch of bitter, slightly too violent, ex-military guys. Or as he used to described them, ‘A club full of Bulls.’ Bull was their Sergeant at Arms, and he was a violent and pretty bitter man. Quite funny, though, and with a lot more humor than most thought. It was just well hidden between his growls and threatening looks.

  After visiting all those other clubs, Mitch had realized that the Greenville club was by far his favorite. Not only because it had his dad as the president and his blood brother as member—even if that surely helped—but also because he liked the family feel and focus they had. To add to that, it had a few singles who all loved to go to the strip club and hang out at the clubhouse at night.

  The incident with Hump had given him a new view of the club as a whole, though. It was one thing hearing the stories, and Mac had told him quite a lot about his time in Emporia, but to experience it had made him see things differently. Not in a bad way, just differently, and it had made him love his own club, and the feelings it gave him, even more. This was his family, and he would stand by them no matter what.

  Violet, his brother’s twenty-one-year-old, pregnant, tattoo artist wife, came through the door and smiled when she saw them. It had taken Mac less than a year to marry her once he got out, and he’d knocked her up as soon as she’d agreed.

  “You two make me wanna vomit,” he mumbled to Mac.

  “You’re just jealous,” Mac said without taking his eyes off Vi, sporting the same ridiculous smile as she had.

  “Insanely,” he agreed.

  He was. His brother had hooked up with Vi when she was just barely eighteen, and since then she’d been the only girl he ever looked at twice. It wasn’t that Mitch wanted Vi, he just wanted to fall that madly in love with someone, or just to be as sure about something as Mac had been about Vi. He hadn’t been close, though, and he had to admit he probably wasn’t gonna find that kind of woman among the sweetbutts.

  When Mac stood up and greeted Vi with a kiss while stroking her belly, Mitch laughed, “Oh come on! Now you’re just rubbing it in!”

  Neither of them even looked at him.

  “I’m telling you, Vi,” he continued, “you totally picked the wrong brother.”

  “No, I didn’t.” She turned towards him, still smiling. “Besides, Dad would’ve killed you if you tried what he did.”

  “True,” he agreed with another laugh. Bear, her dad, would’ve torn him apart. He was a very protective dad, and Mitch was still surprised he’d taken it so cool with Mac. “Give me a kiss before you two leave, at least.”

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. He caressed her face and gave her one back, and then whispered in her ear, “Take care of him. He’s still totally gone for you.”

  Mitch liked Vi, loved her even. She was a really sweet girl and had always been. He loved teasing his brother about her, although it wasn’t as much fun anymore since twenty-one wasn’t just barely legal. Although, twenty-one-year-old, pregnant wife still had a nice ring to it.

  While Mac was doing time, her career as a tattoo artist had taken off, and she’d asked Mitch to help her with her finances. At the price of free ink when he wanted it, he’d agreed, and he was still doing it. It wasn’t that hard, and she was grateful—a good trade. It also meant he had some premium quality ink.

  “Hey!” Mac protested and pulled Vi from him. “Get your own girl!”

  Vi put her arms around Mac’s neck. “And you call me greedy.”

  “Heard Lisa’s in town, is she coming by?” Mitch asked her.

  “Yeah,” Vi nodded. “Tomorrow.”

  “Get out of here and have some sex,” Mitch grumbled and waved at them when they left.

  “Take care of her!” Bear yelled after the two of them. He was very much panicking about Vi being pregnant and probably would’ve preferred to wrap her up in bubble wrap in a locked, padded room until the kid was born.

  Mitch emptied his beer, and then he got up to walk around the corner to The Booty Bank. He continued past the hang-arounds who were working as guards that night and inside into the familiar blinking lights. He found Sisco, their latest patch Tommy, and a hang-around called Wrench in a corner and sat down next to them.

  “Where’s the new girl?”

  “In the back with Bull,” Tommy smiled.

  “Fuck!”

  Bull was always quick to get to the girls, and obviously he’d heard about the new girl and had been there to get first dibs. Autumn––Mitch knew it wasn’t her real name, and he preferred to not know––came over. He pulled her closer and told her to come and find him once her shift was over.

  She did, and he took her back to the clubhouse and his room there.

  -o0o-

  When he woke up the next morning, Autumn was gone. Not much of a surprise; she’d been there before and knew the drill. He walked out to the bar and noticed Lisa at a table—with short hair! She’d always had long, blonde hair, and now it was really short. He could only remember that having happened once before.

  “What the fuck happened to your hair, girl?” he yelled.

  “Mitch! Get over here and give me a hug,” she yelled back as she stood up.

  “Hey, doc,” he said and put his arms around her. “Let me look at you. Why short?”

  “Long story,” she smiled. “Still breaking girls’ hearts?”

  “Nah,” he kissed her cheek. “I try to get around to make sure they all get a taste. It’s my brother who’s making them devastated, all family man, you know.”

  “Okay,” she turned around. “Don’t know if you remember her, but this is my friend Anna Dobronravov. We were friends in high school before she ran off to be a prima ballerina in New York.”

  “Sure I do,” he said and smiled at the brown-haired, blue-eyed, pretty girl who looked as Russian as her last name sounded. He didn’t remembe
r her at all. From what he could see of her sitting at the table, she had a ballet body—fine limbed and minimal tits. He took the hand she was holding out. “Mitch.”

  “Anna.”

  She was a ballet dancer for sure. She had a straight back and a long neck, and just the way she held out her hand looked like a dance move; the gesture was flowing. He immediately imagined her in five different positions that would take full advantage of how flexible she most likely was, and he gave her a big smile.

  “Jesus, Mitch,” Lisa mumbled. “You really don’t waste any time.”

  “What?”

  “Just go and get some coffee and leave us alone,” she mumbled. “And a breath mint!” she yelled after him as he walked away.

  He was gonna go and get some coffee, and then sit down at the bar and keep coming up with fuck positions fit for a ballet dancer. Seemed like a good way to spend the time while trying to get rid of the hangover.

  He’d been there for around ten minutes when Mac and Vi came in. Vi went over to the table with the girls, and Mac sat down next to him.

  “Do you remember her?” he asked and nodded towards Anna.

  “Sort of,” Mac said. “Lisa and her were in the same class. Think she brought her here a couple of times. Only half remember her since Vi talked about her last week. She’s gonna do some ink on her.”

  “Married or boyfriend?”

  “I have no idea.”

  He turned and looked at Mac. “You’re a really shitty wingman, bro.”

  “Like you care,” Mac laughed. “You’ve never used me as a wingman anyway.”

  “No, because you’re a shitty one.”

  That’s when the girls stood up, and Anna took a cane he’d missed hanging on the table and started to limp out.

  “How the fuck can she be a dancer in New York if she can’t walk?” he asked Mac.

  “She’s not a dancer anymore. Was in some accident a while back. She lives here in Greenville now.”

  “Fuck. That rules out like ten of the positions I was gonna try.”

  “Jesus, Mitch! You’re really an ass sometimes.”

  “I’m not. I’m sorry about the accident thing, too.” He thought about it. “Gotta suck, she must’ve trained her entire life.”

  “Nice to see you still have half a heart left,” Mac said with a chuckle. “Besides, she’s probably still pretty flexible and kind of pretty.”

  “Yup. Think Lisa’ll introduce me?”

  “Don’t think she’s one of the friends Lisa would ‘introduce’ you to.”

  It had happened now and then that Lisa ‘introduced’ him to her friends. She’d never told him exactly what she said to them about him, but some of his best fuck buddies over the years had been her friends. Or rather, girls she knew. Her really close friends, what few she’d had, she’d told him to stay the fuck away from. He had a feeling he’d been her go-to guy when someone needed to get laid. She’d even called him a non-charge gigolo on more than one occasion, but if they were willing, hot, and horny—who was he to turn them down?

  He actually preferred fuck buddies to one-night stands. He thought it was easier if the girl he was with knew what he liked, and the other way around. It was better, as long as they didn’t expect anything else, because it could get complicated if they did, but he generally got out of that, too.

  “No, she’s probably not,” he agreed. She’d looked way to proper. “Guess they’re good friends?”

  “Think so. At least old friends.”

  He decided it was best to leave the subject. “How are Vi and the squid?”

  “Good. She’s going up to Seattle for some convention this weekend.”

  “You going with her?”

  “No. They’re boring as hell.”

  Vi went on conventions now and then and always came home with some prize and an offer to do guest work at renowned studio or two. Mac had followed her to few of them when she’d been away for longer periods. Mitch had no idea what the plan was once the kid was born, but he figured they had a plan. They always did; they were always overthinking stuff.

  “Hey, wanna come over, smoke some pot, watch movies, and celebrate my birthday just the two of us while she’s away?” Mac asked.

  “Absolutely,” Mitch smiled. “I’ll bring cookies.”

  Mac’s birthday was the week after, and they always celebrated themselves a few days before. It was tradition. They smoked weed and talked about everything. Not just when it was almost Mac’s birthday, but whenever they had a chance. It had started when they were both still in their teens, and they still did it as often as possible.

  It was during one of those weed sessions that the then twenty-four-year-old Mac had fessed up that he had a thing for Vi, a fellow member’s seventeen-year-old daughter.

  And later, that they were seeing each other in secret while she was doing some art on his wall; how he was madly in love with the shy, purpled-haired girl.

  He’d told Mitch about all of it, every step of the way; when he knew he loved her, that he’d asked her to marry him and have his ink, and just three months earlier that she was pregnant. It was basically during the weed-sessions that they caught up on each other’s lives. Mitch just rarely had much going on worth mentioning.

  “Hey, when are you finding out what sex the kid is?”

  “I’ll tell you on our session.” He gave Mitch a knowing smile. He fucking knew it. Mac had promised to tell him and now he was holding out on him!

  “You know?”

  “Yup, and she’s made me swear that you and Lisa will be the only ones who’ll know, so you better shut up about it.”

  “Cross my half heart.” When Mac started to walk away, he grabbed him. “Come on! You gonna make me wait until then?”

  Mac embraced him in a tight hug. “It’s a boy,” he whispered in his ear. “And you better shut up about it.”

  “You know I will.” He watched his older brother walk off, but halfway to the door he turned around.

  “And she says you can be the godfather if you swear on your patch you won’t use the kid to pick up women.”

  “I would never do that!”

  “Sure you would,” Mac laughed. “I know you, little brother.”

  “I swear on my patch and my bike!”

  “She’ll be relieved to hear that.”

  He watched his brother leave with a big smile on his face. He might not be actively looking for a girl like the one his brother had, but he was living family life vicariously through Mac. He loved to hear about it all, and he was so fucking thrilled about the baby it was pathetic.

  -o0o-

  They had church that Friday, and Mech and Mitch were the last two into the chapel, since they’d been working with some upgrades on the computer security. Mitch closed the door and sat down at the end of the table, opposite Tommy, and lit a smoke. His dad banged the gavel and cleared his throat.

  “I had a talk with Chucky the other day,” he started. Chucky was the president of the mother charter, and to Mitch’s amusement, he had something of a resemblance to the evil doll Chucky in the B-horror movies from the 90s. “They’ve been contacted by a Dutch club regarding a business deal.”

  There was a tangible silence in the room. The prospect of branching out in Europe was both intriguing and worrying. Mitch didn’t know much about Europe or the biker climate there. It had never been much of an issue, since, as far as he knew, that was something that had never come up. The majority of the diamonds they shipped up to New York were sent over seas, but by then the merchandise had left their hands and it wasn’t their problem anymore. Sisco was the first one to speak up.

  “Any club we’ve heard of?”

  “I don’t know if I’ve heard of any European biker clubs,” Bull said. “Only the American clubs who’ve spread there, but no clubs that started out over there.”

  “This is an American club,” Brick answered. “Smiling Ghouls. I’m sure you’ve all heard of them.”

  “Aren’t they
just a bunch of drunken losers?” Mace asked and looked at the others. “Or did I get that wrong?”

  “Not entirely wrong,” Brick agreed. “But the reason they’re not really doing shit over here, is that they pretty much own the Netherlands, and they’re raking in big sums from there. The American side is living on the profit.”

  Mitch immediately saw the problem with that equation. “So we’re gonna try to set up a working business arrangement with a bunch of drunks who tend to let others work for them?”

  “No. Thankfully not,” his dad answered. “Two guys from the Amsterdam club are coming here. Not their president, but the VP and the SAA.”

  “Why not the president?” Bull asked and sounded a bit insulted, which was understandable. If a club was serious about something, they sent the president.

  “He’s apparently not allowed into the US. I’m not sure about the details, but that was the reason,” Brick explained. “They’re coming over for a few months to discuss it further, tell us what they had in mind, if we’re interested. The idea was that they’d go to Englewood to talk to them first, and then they’d travel with them to meet with some of the other clubs.”

  It was a no-brainer to Mitch that Greenville was on the list of ‘some of the clubs.’ They were one of the bigger clubs, and more importantly one of the border clubs, and Brick was the one who most often dealt with the cartel who supplied them with pot and diamonds.

  “So we’re having two Dutch coming to visit?” he asked.

  “One Dutch and a Swede, actually.” Brick scratched his head. “Chucky’s got his guys doing a check, but he wanted Mech and Mitch’s help, too.”

  Mitch looked at Mech, who shrugged and nodded, then he nodded, too.

  “Got names?” he asked.

  “The Swede is called… Well, it’s spelled O-l-l-e, and Orn as the family name? Is that an actual name?”

  “How would you pronounce that?” Bear speculated. “Like Olé, or Oll-e? Or maybe—”

  “It doesn’t fucking matter,” Brick interrupted him. “The Dutch guy is called Dieter—“