Center of Gravity (Marauders Book 3) (16 page)

“She had the Golden Ratio written on her.”

Brick stood in silence for a while before walking towards his own chair at the head of the table.

“What’s that?”

“It’s the number 1.61803.”

“I’m afraid to fucking ask, but what does that mean?”

“No idea. Maybe he thought Autumn was perfection,” Mitch said and chuckled to himself. He looked around the table at the questioning faces. “The Golden Ratio is sort of nature’s formula for perfection. For example, the face on a person generally considered beautiful is mathematically formed according to the Golden Ratio…. Does this matter?”

“I don’t know,” Brick sighed. “First off, does her murder have anything to do with us?”

“Think it would be stupid to assume anything else,” Sisco said. “At least until we get solid proof that it’s not. Also think we should take into account that someone keeps trying to hack our computers, and that we recently had guests from overseas.”

“Servers,” Mech muttered next to Mitch. “They’re trying to hack our… fuck it, it doesn’t matter. Either way, we’ve gone through everything, they haven’t left anything behind, nothing, so there were no subtle messages in the hacking attempt.”

“Did you trace it, yet?” Brick asked.

“They’ve gone through an anonymizer, that’s it.”

“And you can’t unanonymize it?”

“Fucking hope not,” Mech smiled. “That’s the kind of shit we use to stay under radar. He keeps coming back, and he’s not very good, so we’ll get him. He’ll fuck up eventually.”

“Okay. So those numbers are all we have at the moment,” Brick sighed. “What do we know about them? And you shut up,” he said to Mitch. “I wanna know what the others have to say.”

They sat silent, and then Tommy spoke up. “I don’t wanna be that guy, but don’t you think you’re making this more complicated than it has to be? Besides Mitch, how many people would immediately know what those numbers are? Can’t it stand for something else?”

“Google it to see if it can mean anything else,” Brick said and pointed at Mech, who immediately stood up and went outside to one of the computers. No phones were allowed in the chapel, so he had to leave to do it. “You’re on to something, Tommy. Good job, but I think we should also pay attention to what you said about Mitch immediately knowing what it was.”

Mitch had been thinking the same thing. That the message could be directed at him.

“Was she a favorite?” Bull asked Mitch.

“Not really. Don’t think I’ve been with her more than any of the others.”

“Anyone who’s after you especially?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“I know someone.” It was Mac, and he was looking right at Mitch when he continued. “Hump. Do we know where he is now?”

“Hump didn’t know shit about computers, so he didn’t try to hack us,” Mitch protested. “It might’ve been a lame attempt, but it was still someone who knew the basics. No offense, but none of you would’ve been able to do it, and Hump was about as tech savvy as Dad. And why would he kill Laura?”

“The numbers, do they have anything to do with anything of his? Like the account number, phone number, address, anything?” Brick asked.

Mitch sat still and went though the numbers in his head. Any number he could think of, and he came up with nothing. He slowly shook his head.

Mech came back into the room. “Only thing I found was about how the Fibonacci sequence is connected to the Golden Ratio.” He looked at Mach. “Could that be anything?”

“Doubt it. It’s just a sequence. Each number is the sum of the two previous ones.” Mitch shook his head. “Don’t think it’s related to any of this.”

“Okay, then,” Brick said. “We need to have a look at Hump.”

“Uh, Hump?” Mech said and looked properly confused for a few seconds. “Oh, if this is aimed at Mitch it’s probably Hump, you mean. I’ll check.”

“I’ll call Rabbit to see what he knows,” Brick nodded. “Mac, you call your friends in Emporia, see if they have anything to say off the record. And you two do a search.” The last part was directed at Mech and Mitch.

“Hack the cops, too,” Bear said. “Need to keep an eye on what they know about the murders.”

“We’re already in,” Mitch sighed. “But I’ll check.”

He tried to point that out every fucking time they said that, and he had no idea why he kept trying. There was no fucking need to hack their server every time. Once you had root access, you were in until they noticed, and he seriously doubted they’d notice, considering the rootkit they had installed there to keep their poking around hidden. It was hidden in the kernel, and without reinstalling the entire operating system it would stay there. They were as fucking in as they could be short of going to the police academy and infiltrating them that way.

“Who’s your alibi? Should we have a word with whoever it is?” Bear asked, and Mitch really fucking wished he hadn’t, because that was another mess he wasn’t really prepared to talk about.

“Anna,” he mumbled, and Mac laughed next to him. “And no, you don’t need to talk to her.”

“The ballerina?” Sisco chuckled. “Wow! She’s gonna be pissed when the cops come knocking on her door. Might need some comfort, and luckily, she’s just my type.”

“You have a type?” Brick asked him.

“Sure. Tits and no dick,” Sisco said while giving Brick the finger.

Mitch knew that telling Sisco to stay the fuck away would only make it worse, so he kept his mouth shut. He also knew that Sisco was probably right. Anna would be pissed, and he hadn’t been able to get hold of her since the cops had released him.

When the meeting finally closed, his mind was miles away. He waited while the others left, and as suspected, his dad waited along with him.

“You think it’s Hump?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but I do think it’s something we need to have a look at.”

“I guess it makes sense that if he blames anyone, it would be me. But I still don’t think he was the one on our server.”

“He might’ve found friends, Mitch. I’m not taking any chances, and neither should you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Keep an eye on that girl you’re seeing.”

“I’m not
seeing
her.”

“Okay. Keep an eye on your alibi then,” he said and gave Mitch a wink as he stood up. “You might need her again.”

“The two detectives in charge of the case are fucking, and one of them is married,” Mitch said.

Brick looked at him for a few seconds and then he nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I Pulled a Muscle

-o0o-

I closed the door behind the two detectives and took a deep breath. That had been extremely uncomfortable and strange. And… heartbreaking, too. I’d noticed Mitch’s calls, but had just turned off the sound on my phone. I didn’t want to talk to him while the police were still in my apartment.

Actually, I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to talk to him again. I had never before been questioned by the police, and I’d had no idea how to act or what the appropriate response or reaction should be. They had looked very surprised when I offered them coffee, so that was apparently the wrong thing to do.

They’d asked me what I’d done the night before yesterday. I wasn’t stupid enough to not know how Mitch and the other Marauders felt about the law, but I was obviously stupid enough to not know how I was supposed to handle the police in my house when they asked me questions that somehow involved him. Then I’d decided to just handle it the same way as if I was seeing just anyone, and told them whatever they wanted to know. Which was if Mitch had been with me, between what hours, and if anyone else had seen us together. The only time I got stressed was when they mumbled about talking to Irina, and I asked them if they kindly could
not
do that because I would really prefer it if she didn’t know the police had talked to me about Mitch already, but I doubted they would give a damn about my wishes.

I hadn’t asked why they wanted to know, and they hadn’t told me. I didn’t want to know. I felt really betrayed and stupid, and I just wanted them out as soon as possible so I could simply put the entire thing behind me.

I continued to ignore my phone the entire day, and when Irina asked who pissed in my cornflakes that morning, I almost bit her head off, which made me feel even worse. I went to bed early but had serious problems falling asleep. My brain just wouldn’t shut up.

I was wondering just how fooled I had been, and if the elaborate date had been nothing more than an alibi. All the confusing thoughts I had just after the picnic returned with full force, and I felt so stupid.

Initially I had read between the lines of what Mitch was saying, or just ignored it, but somewhere along the line, I’d let my guard down. It wasn’t so surprising when I thought about it in retrospect. It had been nice to be around someone who’d never known me as a dancer.

I had obviously thought it was more than it was, the picnic especially, and as much as the thought of it possibly being something more than sex stressed me, it still annoyed me that I had fallen for his charms.

More than anything, I wanted my head to just shut up, and I wanted it to be all his fault, but it was just as much my own fault for having forgotten what it was all about and who he was.

I was still upset when I woke up the next morning and it didn’t get better after checking my phone. He’d called and texted me several times during late evening and early morning.

I nearly pulled a muscle while I was stretching. Stretching while angry is a really, really bad thing, and it wasn’t the first time I’d done it, either. The thought of this being about the hundredth time a man’s behavior caused me to pull a muscle made me even more angry at the entire male side of the human species.

After breakfast, I hobbled outside to wait for Brett to pick me up for physical therapy, and obviously Mitch was waiting for me, leaning against his bike with his arms crossed over his chest. I took a firmer grip of my cane than necessary to keep myself from repeatedly slamming it over his bike, because that would most likely make him furious.

“You’re ignoring my calls, Gimp.”

“How astute of you. Yes, I am.”

“I’m sorry about the cops, I really am, but I had to tell them I’d been with you.”

“I don’t give a damn about the police or what you told them. You could’ve just asked me to your place instead of turning it into a huge thing if you wanted an alibi.”

“You think I took you to the river because I wanted an alibi?” he asked with a questioning and quite mocking smile. “No offense, but that’s stupid, baby. I didn’t even know I needed an alibi. I took you there because I wanted to, and it was you who asked me to stay the night at your place afterwards. I tried to sneak out in the morning, but I’m pretty sure Irina was waiting for me.”

“She probably was,” I muttered.

“So let me get this straight, you thought I took you out for a picnic, caught a fish for you, fucked you in front of a campfire—all to get an alibi?”

“That’s a bit paranoid, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” he agreed. He was standing right in front of me by then, and he was smiling. “Also a bit insulting. I’m not that much of an ass. Besides, I don’t need to
fix
alibies, and definitely not for this thing. I had nothing to do with it.”

I glared at him. “Then what was the picnic?”

“Crossing things off of that list I’ve made for you. Picnic and fucking outside in December.”

“You could’ve warned me about them coming.”

“They kept me at the station for hours, so I couldn’t.” He leaned down closer to me. “Am I off the hook?”

“I’m not sure.”

I really wasn’t sure, and I had no idea how to deal with it all. I just… I needed him away for a while to let me think about it, and I’d been angry with him for quite a while, so I needed time to calm down. He was right, it was a bit paranoid of me to think it was just about getting an alibi. It was definitely mostly based on my prejudice about him being a biker, but I still wasn’t convinced that I was that much off track either. Maybe about the picnic, but I’d managed to completely forget who he was and what kind of people he had around him. I knew he was an outlaw, but I’d chosen to completely ignore that, and having the police knocking on my door had been a blunt wake-up call from reality.

When I looked up from the pavement, he was still looking at me, waiting for my answer.

“What happened? Why did you need an alibi?”

“A girl working at our club was killed.”

“As in murdered?” I stared at him. I hadn’t expected that, and I honestly didn’t think he’d had anything to do with a murder. “Someone was murdered?”

“Yes.”

“Oh!” I wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“If you let me take you to that buffet I’ve been talking about, I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

“You want to take me to a buffet after finding out that someone you knew has been murdered?”

“I didn’t know her, Gimp. I knew who she was, but that was pretty much it.” He smiled again when I kept glaring at him. “Where are you heading?”

“PT. He’s picking me up here.”

“Yes he is,” Brett said with a cheerful tone, and when I turned around he had the biggest smile. He took a step forward and extended his hand. “I’m Brett, her physical therapist.”

“Mitch,” he answered and took the offered hand before turning back to me. “Want me to pick you up from there?”

“Um—“ I started, but didn’t get to finish.

“That would be great!” Brett said. “It would save me the trouble.”

“But—” I tried again, to point out that Brett wasn’t the one giving me a lift home, but once again I didn’t get the chance to finish, or even start, the sentence.

“What time?” Mitch asked, and he still wasn’t looking at me.

“In an hour. I’ll warm her up for you.”

Before I had a chance to say anything at all, Mitch gave me a kiss and told me he’d wait for me outside. When I tried to talk to him, he started his motorcycle, pointed at his ears, and shook his head to indicate he couldn’t hear me. I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or be furious when I turned to Brett.

“What was that?”

“Brotherly bonding. Come on.”

Brett picking me up had started when I agreed to switch my Thursday appointment for the guy living in the middle of nowhere. When I’d agreed, it had meant I was Brett’s first patient on Thursdays, and as a thank you, he had told me he would pick me up in the morning. When the patient’s wife, Anita, had heard about it, she’d told me she’d take me home each time after my appointment. She argued that she didn’t really have anything else to do while waiting for her husband. I honestly didn’t think switching an appointment mattered all that much, but if it made her feel better, it was okay with me. It was a lot better than the bus and saved me the cab fare.

“Dear lord, woman, what have you done?” Brett exclaimed about twenty minutes later.

“Oh, I think I pulled a muscle.”

“You think? Did you fall out of the bed and break the fall with your bad leg?”

“No, not exactly.” Brett put his hands on his hips and stared at me imperiously. “I stretched while I was angry.”

He rolled his eyes and went back to work on my muscles.

-o0o-

I stared at Mitch’s plate, and then at mine before I started to laugh. His plate was stuffed with food, and he had balanced things on top of each other to be able to fill it with as much as possible.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked.

“Hey, I got this shit down, you’re the one who’s not doing this buffet thing right, Gimp,” he said and pointed at my plate. “You need to go for the expensive stuff. Like salmon and shrimp, not salad.”

“I can’t eat that much.”

“If you’re not feeling sick when we leave, the restaurant won. Go back for more! I’ll wait here.”

When I came back to our table, he gave my plate another disapproving glare and shook his head.

“I can’t eat more than this,” I said.

“This is going to suck,” he muttered. “I’m gonna have to eat for you, too, to make sure we beat the restaurant.”

I watched him eat for a while, and then cleared my throat to sort of psych myself into asking the things I was wondering about.

“Did you know her, the girl who was murdered?”

“Is this your subtle way of asking if I’ve had sex with her?” he asked.

“Yes. I think it is.” I looked down at my still fairly full plate. “Lisa has told me about the strippers and how they’re often your… sweet butts, I think she called it.”

“Yes, they are, and yes, I’ve had sex with her, but not in over two months. You’re pretty horny, honey, you keep me
very
occupied.” When I blushed, he laughed. “I’m not complaining.”

“Is that why they questioned you?”

“It might be, at least part of the reason, but I think it was mostly because the club owns The Booty Bank, so I’m one of the owners.” He said and looked at me. “Which makes me her boss. You’re not eating.”

“I’m full. I can’t eat anymore.”

“Well you’re a waste of money at a buffet. I thought you ate loads now when you don’t have to starve yourself.”

“Dancers don’t starve themselves. It would be idiotic to do that. Our body is our tool, and it needs energy to work and not get injured. We just maintain a very specific diet, but we eat a lot of calories.”

“Sore spot?” he asked. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard about dancers who starve themselves.”

“There are girls everywhere who starve themselves, regardless of their occupation. Dancers are skinny, but that’s because we work out ten hours a day. A dancer who starves is about as smart as an Olympic athlete doing it. And before you say anything, I know some of them do.”

“You’re pissed at me again.”

“I’m just fed up with trying to explain that I never starved myself. I looked like that because I trained all the time, and I kept a healthy diet.” I sighed. “Also, you told me you’d let me ask you questions, and you’re not.”

“I’m just saying you were really fucking skinny.”

“Yes, I was.”

I kept forgetting that he’d seen the recording of La Bayadère. But it also didn’t escape my notice that he was completely ignoring any questions I had, and… I didn’t know what to do. If I should just give this crap up and leave him at his damn buffet, with his ridiculously full plate, and head home. Or if I should insist.

“You were also very hot in those red harem pants.” He winked. “And that short skirt that was, like, straight out.”

I sighed and pushed my plate to the side, not to leave—not yet—but just to indicate I’d had enough, of both food and bullshit.

“Yup. You’re pissed.” He shoved his plate to the side, too, and rested his elbows on the table with a sigh. “Okay. Ask.”

“Was she murdered because she was working for you?”

“I don’t know why she was murdered, and that’s the truth. But I do know that civilians aren’t usually the targets for the people who could be after us. Most people like me—”

“Like you?”

“Babe,” he shook his head, “I can’t go into detail, and you have to know why. Some things you’re just going to have to trust me when I say.”

I wasn’t sure how to trust someone I just barely knew, but I still nodded.

“This doesn’t have to be that damn complicated,” he continued. “We have sex, and I show you things you’ve missed because I told you I would. That’s all there is. This shit with the cops was just bad luck. If I’d had time, I would’ve gotten a different alibi, but they picked me up about five minutes after you’d left yesterday morning.”