As he'd grown in his role, he'd switched from the beat-up bike he'd been riding across the country to a custom Night Rod, sleek and fast, entirely done in black chrome. As the black leopard in their ragtag pack, he felt it suited him just fine. Didn't help that it drew attention. When he pulled up, people noticed. If there was bad blood, they left. It was easy to tell who to keep a closer eye on in the city, you just had to watch who scattered in their presence.
To be fair, most of his time was split between the club's various enterprises. The clubhouse was their main locale, located just outside of the city. Beyond that, they had the bar near the university, their presentable face to the community, the legal business that fronted the assorted illegal ones they had going on behind the scenes.
They ran guns. Drugs. A chop shop. Did some mercenary business on the side. Occasionally, they were hired out as private security from desperate people who didn't much give a damn how the job got done, so long as it was done. The one thing they refused to participate in was anything that harmed women or children. For a 1 percenter club, they still had their morals, unscrupulous as they were.
Thian was kept busy, running between the businesses, out on private assignments. Keeping shit contained when possible, handling loose ends when necessary. When it came to his family, he had no qualms about blood. You fucked with the club, it was the last mistake you made. His uncle may think loyalty could be bought and sold, but here in Dark Leopards, loyalty was the one thing they had that they could count on no matter what. Anyone who couldn't get with the program got the fuck out. Whether they were on their own two feet or in a box was entirely up to them.
Tomorrow, they were having a meeting. Knox had forewarned him that he may be heading out on another private job, so after he'd left his parent's place, he made the drive to Kalamazoo, stopping at the small apartment he kept for appearances to grab the packed bag he kept on hand before heading to the clubhouse. Same shit, different day.
Chapter Three Hundred Eighty-Seven
The clubhouse was large and open, with three stories. The second floor was their den, basically. Overstuffed leather couches, pool tables, dart boards, all were haphazardly stashed around the place. In the left corner, the entire wall was taken up by an oak bar, bottles lining the wall behind it. One of the club whore's tended bar at the bar they ran, so she'd taught some of the others how to serve up drinks here, keeping them supplied in beer and liquor.
Off of the main room was a smaller one, filled with chairs and a table up front. That was where meetings were held, closed off to any visitors or prospects. Once the door was shut, all camaraderie and joking stopped, they were there for official business. Knox didn't call meetings unless there was something important to discuss, so this room was sacred.
The third floor consisted of bedrooms for the members that chose to stay at the clubhouse permanently, as well as extra rooms for those who simply needed a place to crash occasionally. The entire first floor was taken over by a makeshift garage throughout most of it, assorted bikes and gear everywhere. One side featured a kitchenette, used for holidays and family meals. They didn't cook much themselves, but it did come in handy every once in a while, so they'd left it there instead of ripping it out. The girls liked it, at least.
Tossing his bag on one of the open couches, he ignored the two women losing clothing on another, heading to the meeting room. Normally, he'd stop and pay more attention to the show, but due to the drive, he already knew he'd be the last one in. The others were likely waiting on him already. Damn shame, that.
Pushing open the door, he headed inside, carefully closing it behind him. As he'd suspected, everyone else was already there. Thankfully, they'd known where he was headed today, so his lateness was excused, along with murmurs of understanding from a few of them. They knew he'd been estranged, and preferred it that way. He only went back home when he'd been summoned to make appearances, for whatever perverse reason that served.
Taking his seat, he stretched his legs out, turning his attention towards Knox, Snow, and Gray, who stood up front. All looked unusually serious, which boded well for no one. Especially as he'd already been warned he may be going off by himself. Shit.
Once the meeting was called to order, they'd learned about events they'd heard whispers of, and finally connected. Snow's sister had been kidnapped a bit ago, which had thrown the club into a goddamn tailspin as they worked to help one of their own. Soon after, Gray had found his mate. Unfortunately, she'd been being targeted by shifters that had been stalking her. The scents in both cases were the same.
They were dealing with a rogue pack. It couldn't be allowed to continue. Rogues were dangerous to everyone, especially them. They didn't care if humans found out about their kind, their bloodlust knew no rationality. They had been known to attack both shifter and human alike, even turning humans against their will if one scented a potential mate.
They went against everything the MC stood for. Knowing they were involved in the kidnapping and stalking of women left them uneasy. They weren't doing this for no reason. There was something larger at play, but what?
Turned out, that was Thian's job. While the other's tracked the pack through the city and waterways, Thian was set to take on a private security assignment they'd been asked to
