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I rub the sleep out of my eyes, but I still feel like I could go about four more hours in my bed.

But I know it’s not going to happen. I slump against the elevator wall as I descend from my floor to the second floor.

The club converted all the business event spaces into offices, and the president’s is no different.

I don’t usually take the elevator, preferring to get my blood pumping by using the stairs, plus I hate waiting.

But I know only a few are up at this hour around the club, so I took advantage of the lazy-man walk from my room on the top floor to the second.

A grand three flights. But it makes a difference when you’re dragging in the morning.

As the door dings open, I head to the coffee maker. It was the first purchase I made for the club. It sits front and center on the second floor, and I use it often. Not as much as the others, but enough that I’ve got my own cup that the prospects clean and set up every night.

I’ll admit, Mama Bear spoiled me when she came to the club.

Before her, I took coffee black with sugar if I had to have it and forced it down.

Didn’t really know what else was out there, as I had no need to learn.

I was happy with what was put in front of me.

But then Chains’ old lady taught me that not only are there different flavors of creamer to put in coffee, but it’s also not that hard to make cappuccinos and lattes.

I’m not snobby enough to make one every morning or anything, but now I can order one with the best of them at chain joints .

The coffee machine I got for the club isn’t fancy.

None of these guys would be for it, and I’m trying to gain trust while encouraging a little fear.

Don’t want my man card called into play by making what some might think to be froufrou?

?? coffee. So instead, I opted for a variety of creamers.

And today looks like an Italian Sweet Cream kind of day.

I would kill for a double espresso, but I can deal with this.

Unlike Mama Bear, I don’t drink coffee all day.

A couple or two when I’m exhausted like this and I’m good.

Sometimes three if things are really bad.

And if it takes three, then I go straight black, ’cause it means the fluffy shit ain’t working enough to get the job done.

Going to the office, I unlock the door, turn on the lights, and shut the door behind me before making my way to the desk.

While my old club may not have locked shit down, this place isn’t like that.

We don’t all trust one another like back home.

I might like some of these guys, but we’re still in the treading-light stage.

I power up the computer system, taking a satisfying sip of the hot coffee and letting it thaw me a bit. I seem to always have a sweater on these days. And while the heater is on, the floors are heated, and I’m drinking a hot drink, there’s still a chill in my bones.

Once the system is up, I log into the secure link Flint set up and wait for the video call to start. Casper and I used to talk daily, but since I wasn’t able to give him many updates, it’s now down to the start of each week. Like a regular freaking corporate job, just with better benefits.

“What has you smiling this early?” Flint’s face comes into view, and I should have known he was watching me despite not allowing me to see he was on the call yet.

Guy’s freaky with his computer ways. Each time he does something that sends a tingle up my spine just makes me happy to have him on my side.

“Thinking about the similarities between this gig and a life in a corporate office.”

Flint huffs out a snort. “No comparison, this one’s better. Less commute, and you can drink on the job.”

“Probably not something the boss wants to hear.” Casper’s voice comes over the speaker clear as day before I see him on-screen as he takes a seat.

They set up these conference calls in Flint’s office, since he has too many computers to move to another room.

Also, it controls how many people are on the call, as only three can fit into Flint’s office with the amount of tech crap he has. And that’s only if everyone’s standing.

“Meant coffee, boss.” Flint smirks as he types on his computer, never looking back at the prez behind him.

“Save it.” Casper is quick to shut down Flint, but we all know it’s with no real malice. “Welcome to the new year, Domino. How’s Michigan doing?”

“Fucking colder than before. My dick is liable to freeze off if the temp keeps dropping around here.”

“Buckle up. I hear a winter storm is headed your way. Make sure the boys have what they need.”

I nod in agreement. I don’t tell him I’m already prepared.

Some might see his words of wisdom as him micromanaging, but the guy is the furthest from that as possible.

When he talks, he’s making sure the others are thinking about everything.

Seeing things from all angles like he does.

I never got the year’s worth of training to be a president of the club, as is tradition.

Which is fine since I’m not staying. I’m here for a job, and then I’m heading back home.

And sure, home gets cold too. We even get snowed in.

But that’s Kansas cold. I swear Michigan cold is a whole other level.

No wonder half the damn bikers in this state are mean as hell.

You have to be to stay here. Stubborn too.

Actually, they might be great guys, just their faces are permanently frozen in a scowl.

At least those in Detroit. But then again, it is Detroit.

The rumors floating around the clubs down there might not just be a bad joke.

The Hounds have a reputation too. It varies depending on the town, but the consensus is, you don’t fuck with a Hound. Not unless you’re looking for a dogfight.

Casper might not have been in the position to take over the role he’s in either, but the man was born to play it.

And he’s staying. The mother chapter isn’t like the rest of the clubs.

It’ll always need a king on the throne, or the club’s fucked.

We barely lasted a week before voting him in when our last president went down.

Law was one of the greats, if not the greatest of all time.

He took the club places and looked out for most. He saw things, made changes, ruled with an iron fist. It was under his watch that the sister clubs thrived and we started Operation Hell Hound, a side gig that allows the club as a whole to go into mercenary gigs.

We even set up a training facility in the North Dakota chapter for people to prep for missions and take mandatory R&R when they get back.

That’s where Mickey, Rooster, and Lucky were before they got pulled over here.

Which is the writing on the wall that no one wants to admit to.

The flaw in the last king’s crown, so to speak.

Under Law’s watch, we had this club and who knows how many others get pulled into things the Hounds are completely against. Sure, not all sister chapters are the same.

Like a person, no two clubs are completely identical.

Even twins have tells. The other clubs might mirror the mother chapter, but the people are different.

The rules might be seen differently. Things change, some forget, others completely ignore.

Less than six months on the job, and Casper is already setting up his legacy in the form of realizing we need a national chapter.

One that might even roam around for a bit to check in on places.

He wanted to do it himself, and has, to a point.

But the last time we talked, he was thinking it needed to be more permanent, not just something like he’s doing now.

He can’t reach everything, but he’s getting the backing he needs to get a national club set up and even recruiting to see who would want and be willing to run things.

Casper might have a hand on the national level, but I doubt he wants to run it.

The mother chapter is big enough to deal with.

“Anything new? Flint says he had to hack a woman’s feed and erase some shit.”

I crack my neck to the left and right before nodding. “Yeah. We learned that one of the people on our street has cameras that are pretty detailed. Didn’t think on it before, as we didn’t see any when we did our initial sweep of the property. She has them hidden pretty good.”

“And the video quality rocks,” Flink butts in. “She had clear details of everything that went down when you arrived. One of her cameras points right at the front of your club, and if you zoom in, you can see clear past the front doors. Might want to change the glass or something. ”

I nod. I already have new shit being brought in.

While I understand we want to let the light in as much as possible to keep depression down in a cold area, we don’t want to be vulnerable.

Having so many glass windows on the first floor is a recipe for disaster.

Most of the windows are one-way glass, allowing you to see out but no one to see in.

But the doors leading in are still the original ones from when they bought this place.

It was an open hotel trying to draw in tenants for the night, and we don’t like unannounced visitors.

“Already on it. Arriving in four days. They were delayed with the holidays.”

Both of them nod at my words. Might seem silly to get custom doors, but I wanted the best—you know, the kind that are bulletproof. Don’t care about color or anything else to make it look nice. It’s about the quality of the product, and I’ll wait a bit extra for it.

“How far back do you want me to go? I didn’t just want to clear all of it in case we need to look at something, so I waited till this morning to check with you. I’ve looked over some feeds already, but not all,” Flint says.