Heading back out a few minutes later, I grab my vest off the chair and put it on. I don’t say anything, and neither does Mickey, though he keeps chuckling. Whatever.
I look over the place once more and make sure I get all of my shit before leaving. This was only a pit stop. I’m planning on bunking at the clubhouse tonight.
When we make it outside, I curse as the wind picks up. It hasn’t snowed recently, but that just means it’s too damn cold to do so. I hardly had a chance to pack after I glanced at the weather yesterday. You bet your ass I’m making a full new wardrobe part of the expenses for coming up here. I’m even going to bill it to the club. Well, half of it. Don’t want the boss to see me as greedy or nothing.
I could just have Jumper send my shit up here, but that means more than I’m ready to admit. This is just temporary. I’m here to clean house, start it over, then pass it along, not for anything long term.
On the way up here, I had a lot of time to think. Flint spoke to me a bit on the comms and gave me some details he and Casper found out about what’s going on up here, but most of the time, I was solo. Left to my own thoughts. I’ve never had a problem with it. Still don’t.
Gave me time to think about this and set up a plan. Six months. I’m giving this place six months to get back in shape. If it’s still out of whack by then, then Casper needs to demolish it. Or I will. Six months is enough time to figure shit out. And if I’ve still got questions, that means more than enough are damaged goods and don’t need to be in the Hounds’ brotherhood anymore.
As we get to the bikes, I secure my bag before I turn the engine over. “Where’s breakfast?”
“Ialready ate.” Mickey grins so wide at his own joke, but I don’t. He gets my mood before nodding, dropping the smile too. “Aye, boys are over on the west side. Even told them to get the coffee going for you. Figured a bite to eat and then head to the clubhouse. No use in waiting longer than we have to. Everyone lives on-site, so we won’t be needing to send out for people to come in.”
I nod and then gesture for him to lead the way.
The ride to the breakfast place ain’t too far, but the cold makes it seem like forever. Might have to invest in a cage if it gets much colder. I’ve got no shame in saying I prefer the finer things in life. And feeling my hands and toes is a privilege up here it seems.
The diner we park in front of is packed, but we find spots by two other motorcycles that Mickey must recognize, as he pulls in next to them. When we walk in, no one turns their heads at us. Definitely not like at home. But I get it. We ain’t the only club in Michigan. Hounds might not be known to everyone here like we are back home, and we aren’t as loud as others, but certain crowds know who we are. We get the respect the club is due for the patch alone. Well, maybe not this chapter, but I’m about to change all that.
We head to the back, Mickey sliding into the booth first, me following. I nod at the two others sitting across from us and note their Hound vests. Unlike mine, which says “Mother Chapter” below our logo, both of theirs show “Nomad.”
“Lucky, Rooster, meet Domino. Our salvation,” Mickey says with a smirk as he drinks from the waiting cup of coffee in front of him.
Both seem older, but I know more than most that looks can be deceiving. I might be clean-shaven and resemble thetypical college football star who’s ready for his television debut, but that’s the last thing I am. Got dark in my soul just like the rest of the Hounds.
Lucky, the blond-haired one, seems more the brooding type, but it’s his look, and he owns it. His hair is just long enough for him to need to style it daily, slicked back from either him or his bed partner from the previous night. Rooster’s is shaved close to the head with tats on the sides. He’s wearing zero sleeves, so he must be fucking nuts. No wonder the redheaded Irishman next to me picked these two. They probably fit in with his type of crazy. Which is just like mine if Casper said I could run this place and get along with these three at my side.
“Salvation, my ass. More like watch me explode,” I huff as I take a drink from my mug. Going to need all the help I can get today, even if it’s shit coffee. I grab the cream, pour almost all of it into my mug, and then add more sugar than is necessary. Still not good, but drinkable.
“Oh good. Looks like we’re about to have some fun.” Lucky snickers and rubs his hands together, and I eye him cautiously. Looking him over, then Rooster, I wonder for the first time ever if maybe I’m the calm one in all of this. Something I usually am not when compared to my brothers.
What the hell did Casper get me into? And with who?
“What’s good here?” I ask as I glance over the menu. I need food; then we can talk about world domination or whatever they have in mind.
“Anything and everything,” Rooster says in a deeper voice than I expect. He doesn’t add more detail.
I give him an eyebrow raise, then shrug before I go back to the menu and scan it for a minute before thewaitress stops by. Her name tag says Betty, and she seems pissed to be working. I pull out my charming smile, but it does nothing. She just asks what we want and then goes away a second after we’re done ordering.
“Friendly bunch around here,” I mutter as I drink more coffee and feel bits of my soul defrost.
“We come for the food, not the friendship. Trust me, this place is worth the other BS. It wouldn’t be packed if it wasn’t,” Lucky chimes in as he gestures about.
I scan the crowd and note a few things, but nothing more than a few pretty faces and some tired ones. Must match my own, I’m sure.
“All right, let’s get this over with. What am I walking into?” I direct it at the table, not sure which one will take the lead. Casper had Mickey come up this way from the Operation Hell Hound unit out of the Dakotas since he was already on a required break from his last mission with OHH. Not that any of our guys like being benched, but it’s for a reason. Rest and rethink before going back out for another black ops mission the club takes on.
With Mickey on “rest,” he was the perfect guy to come at a moment’s notice when Casper was up here a few months back and needed some backup. That was before the boss realized that this local sister chapter wasn’t sticking to the club’s bylaws: No skin trade. We don’t know how many were involved. The VP for sure, but Casper already took care of him. Now we need to know who else was part of it. Or still is. No way he did it on his own—too much went down for it to be just a one-man operation.
“Bane’s out of physical therapy and trying to keep the club together,” Lucky offers as a place to start.
Bane was the president who let this happen under his nose. Boss isn’t so sure he’s clean, and neither am I. Looking around the table, I see the others agree with my thoughts. He might have been shot and almost bled out before help came, but that could have been part of a cover-up. He knows his time is coming, was even briefed to keep his head down and mouth shut. So far, it seems he has.
Mickey came in right after Casper and C8 destroyed a sex club that was a cover for some kind of skin trade home shopping network. He brought Rooster and Lucky with him, picking his own crew to help figure all this out. They came in claiming nomad status and just looking for a bit of time to settle down. Bane was told to welcome them, and he has. They’ve been pretty cozy in the new club but still haven’t figured out much. Hence why Casper sent me. He’s tired of waiting. He wants things shaken up and cleared out ASAP.
“No one is pushing anything that we can see or going out and trying. Could be no one was in on it, or maybe they’re still lying low. Heard most places shut down during the holidays around here,” Mickey adds.
