Whiskey Neat (The Uncertain Saints MC Book 1) (20 page)

Lenore raised her hand to point at herself in mock horror. “Me? Don’t bring me into the middle of this!”

“You are
in
the middle of this! How can you not see that my husband loves you!” Jenna screeched.

Lenore narrowed her eyes and I tightened my arms around Lenore’s waist to halt her forward progress in the direction of Jenna.

“Do you see what I have right here?” Lenore yelled back.

But she was pointing at me, patting my face as she reached up with her free hand that wasn’t locked around my wrist in a death grip.

“I see you have a stand in for my man,” Jenna hissed.

Lenore laughed.

“Griffin’s not a stand in for your man. Me and Remy don’t have the kind of relationship that Griffin and I have. Griffin’s my
man
. Remy’s my
friend
. They both have my heart in totally different ways, and if you’d clear the jealousy out of
your
heart, you’d see that.” Lenore ground out.

I squeezed Lenore’s waist.

Although it had crossed my mind that Remy and Lenore were in love with each other, I never actually saw anything more between the two of them then a brother/sister relationship. It was a sibling-like bond that had formed between the two of them over the many years and experiences that they’d shared together.

And since Lenore and Remy had been together, as best friends, since childhood, they had that bond that most family would have.

That closeness had bothered me…
until now.

When I saw the devastation on Remy’s face. Saw the love he had for his wife wither and die as he realized what he thought he had with her wasn’t real. That it was just a figment of his imagination.

I’d experienced that very same realization myself, only I’d found out a hell of a lot faster than him.

“I want you to get your shit out of our house. Make sure you get all of it, because you won’t be coming back,” Remy said tonelessly. “You’ve got an hour. How about you get your man here to help you.”

“But that’s not enough time! And I don’t have anywhere to go!” Jenna screeched.

By now the whole freakin’ bar was watching this all go down, and not one of them seemed surprised in the least that it was happening.

Something Remy was quickly realizing.

He turned woodenly to Lenore, and I could practically feel the grief welling off of him.

“You knew, didn’t you?” He asked.

Lenore’s eyes started dripping with tears, and with the whiniest of voices I’d ever heard come out of her mouth, she pointed at me with accusation. “
He
wouldn’t let me tell you! It’s all his fault!”

Our evening only deteriorated from there.

“Well that was thoroughly exhausting,” Lenore said as we walked up her front walk.

I’d been pouring water into her for the last hour, so she was significantly less drunk than she had been when I’d first gotten to her.
I had to say, though, the woman sure made a competent drunk. I’d never seen anything like it.
If it weren’t for the ‘fucks’ I would’ve never known she was lit.

“Tell me about it,” I agreed, slowing down when I saw the crack in Lenore’s front door.

I could hear Doogan barking wildly from somewhere in the house, and I suddenly had a very bad feeling.

“Lenore,” I said, halting her in her tracks. “Here’s my phone. Call Wolf and Mig.”

Carefully, she took the phone from my hands and stayed exactly where she was.

She scrolled through my contacts as I removed the gun from the holster on my belt.

With a two-handed grip, I kicked the front door open, revealing the massive mess inside.

Lenore’s living room was destroyed.

Her couch was literally ripped to shreds, as if someone unleashed all of their rage upon the unsuspecting piece of furniture.

The paintings that’d been on her wall were shredded and broken.

The movies, every single one of them, were broken into pieces.

Her flat screen was smashed.

The only thing left in the entire room were the lights, which lit up the devastation.

“Oh, God.”

She kept close to my back as I walked throughout the house, finally coming to a stop at the laundry room door where Doogan’s bark was much more pronounced.

I opened it softly and moved just in time for Doogan to barrel out of the doorway and head straight for Lenore.

He didn’t knock her down, though.

He buried his head between her knees and leaned into her, seeking comfort and making sure his mistress was alright.

I was happy that he was alive.

It could’ve been easily the other way.

He could’ve been broken, lying next to the china that was on the kitchen floor.

After a quick check of the laundry room produced a similar state of destruction, I walked out into the living room just in time for Mig and Wolf to enter.

“Good shake up job,” Wolf observed.

I grunted in reply.

“I think this means they didn’t get the message you tried to send,” Mig supplied dryly.

“What message?” Lenore asked with confusion.

I turned my glare on Mig, and I curled my lip in annoyance at his slip

“You fucker.”

“Griffin, don’t call him dirty names because I found out you were
bad
,” Lenore reprimanded softly. “You need to go ahead and tell me what we’re dealing with since I’m obviously in the middle of it now.”

Mig and Wolf had smiles on their faces about a mile wide, and I tossed them both a glare as I took a hold of Lenore’s hand and started walking her out the door.

“You’ll take care of this, right?” I asked the two men over my shoulder.

They both nodded.

“Good.”
I said, walking into Lenore’s room to grab a few stray articles of clothing. Underwear. Bra. Shorts. A shirt. I
wasn’t sure if any of it matched, but it’d work for now until I could get to the store tomorrow.

Once done, I went back into the living room to find Lenore was hugging Doogan’s head to her belly while she looked around the room with worry.

“Let’s go.” I said,
holding out my hand.

“Doogan?” Lenore asked worriedly. “What about him?”

“I’ll handle him.” Wolf promised.

“Where are we going?” Lenore asked worriedly as I pulled her to my bike.

I stopped at the side of my bike and handed her the helmet I’d bought just a few days before.

She started strapping it on, but kept her eyes on mine, waiting for my answer.

“We’re going to Alabama,” I answered instantly, shoving her shit into the saddle bags next to my extra set that I always kept in there for times like these.

“Now? But I’m hungry!” She said worriedly. “What’s in Alabama?”

I straddled my bike and offered my hand in assistance.

She ignored my hand and mounted behind me, placing her feet on the pegs of the bike and wrapping her hands around my middle.

After shooting off a quick text to my mom, I shoved the phone into my pocket and started the bike.

Proud that she’d be willing to go somewhere with me without me telling her any more details, I tossed a smile over my shoulder and pulled her mouth to mine by a hand at the back of her head.

She grinned when I released her lips.

Then, that smile disappeared moments later when I yelled, “My mother’s in Alabama.”

You don’t always need a plan. Sometimes you only need balls and a beard…and your momma.

-Lenore to Griffin’s mom

Griffin

“Are you sure your mother wants to meet me?” Lenore asked loudly over the roar of the bike.

I sighed and pulled the bike over, shutting it off at the end of my mother’s driveway. I stared up at the quaint white cabin with the dark red shutters. It was on stilts with the ocean at its back, stretching out for miles.

The setting sun played along the white sand of the beach making it practically glow with the beautiful red and blues covering the sky.

“Yes, I’m sure. She wants to meet you, and she’s excited,” I told her for the fortieth time.

“What’s she cooking?” Lenore continued.

I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t know. I didn’t bother to ask.”

I was bringing Lenore to my mother’s.

Firstly, because my mother wanted to meet the woman that was ‘changing her little boy.’

Secondly, because I wanted to get Lenore away from whatever threat was looming over my right shoulder.

My mom lived in near secrecy off the beaten path in Alabama.

She had a quaint little cottage along a thirty-mile stretch of the coast she shared with a few equally private, long-time residents.

She, as well as the others that lived in this section, had excellent security.

My mother needed it, and not because she was a famous chef.

She needed it because my father was a psycho and liked to show up when we least expected it.

At one point, my pop was a good guy.

But when he came back from his last deployment, he was
different
.

Harder.

More…
something
.

Crazy was definitely part of that something.

It didn’t all happen at once.

It slowly built and built until there was literally no other recourse for my mother and I had to put some distance in between us.

He had good days when he could hold a conversation with you and no one would be the wiser that he was troubled. It was the bad days, though, that had increased in frequency that were the problem. The days where he perceived everything and everyone as a threat to his family.

And that meant the maid. My mother’s brother, who was also a military man.

The family dog.

The family dog had been the last straw.

The proverbial one that broke the camel’s back.

My father shot our family dog, Sparkle –
right in front of me
– for barking at me because he wanted to be fed.

My mother had then taken me and stayed at a hotel while my father was taken away by my uncle, and had been gone ever since.

My father knew right from wrong.

He just had a problem with impulse control.

When he was in the midst of one of his episodes, he would drift to a place where he couldn’t control his actions and couldn’t decipher right from wrong. He’d always snap out of it, and when he came back to himself, he always knew that he’d done something bad.

So he didn’t fight my mom.

He knew he was having trouble adjusting to civilian life.

He knew he needed help that we couldn’t give him.

I still went to see him, but only after I made sure that he was okay first.

Starting up the bike, I rode the rest of the way up the driveway and shut it off beside my mom’s small SUV.

“Where’s your head at?” Lenore asked softly.

I blinked, turning to face her.

“Sorry. I was thinking about my dad,” I said softly.

“Your dad? I didn’t realize your mother was married.”

I nodded. “They’re married. But they’re just not…together.”

“What my son is too polite to say,” my mother’s laughter filled voice said from above us, “is that my husband is not well. He suffers from mood swings. He’s unpredictable, and he is dangerous to be around when he’s having an episode, which made it unsafe for us to live with him. I had no choice but to separate from him. He isn’t allowed to come here without our prior knowledge.”

I turned to find my mother smiling at me and Lenore, and I let Lenore go to walk up the steep steps towards her.

Once I reached the second step up, I opened my arms just in time for my mother to launch herself into them.

I smiled as I smelled my mother’s unique scent--roses and mint—as well as the scent of bread wafting out the open door to her house.

Being in her arms always felt right
, and the familiar smells made my breathing come more evenly in my chest.

My mom always made it better, and it was good to be home.

“You’re being so rude,” I teased my mother as I set her down on her feet.

My mother gasped, as any good Southern lady would do, and moved around my body to skip down the steps.

“I’m so sorry. When he told me y’all were coming, I got so excited to see him again that I forgot you were here!” My mother cried. “My name is…”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Lenore smiled. “If I’d have known I was coming here ahead of time, I would’ve brought my mother’s cook books for you to sign, Mrs. Deen.”

“My name’s Rayleigh, please use it. Or you can call me mom,” my mother smiled fondly.

Lenore’s face blushed as she surreptitiously looked over at me. “Sounds good, Mrs...Rayleigh.”

“Oh, I’m so excited. I have some cook books you can have. My office is filled with them,” my mother laughed, pulling Lenore by the hand into the house.

Lenore didn’t even spare me a glance as she hurried behind my mother.

I followed closely behind, closing the door that they’d left open behind me.

My mother’s house hadn’t changed since I’d last been there six months before.
After Tanner’s funeral.

She had someone come in once a week to clean, I was sure, but besides that, she hadn’t changed it.

Which was weird for my mother who was notorious for moving her couches around once a week.

“Ma!” I called as I walked into the kitchen. “What’s up with your…”

I trailed off as I saw both Casten and Ridley in the middle of my mother’s kitchen.

Two men that I’d left three days ago to keep an eye on a man whose days were numbered.

Both had their hands full.

Casten was rolling out what looked to be dough.

He had a red apron on that dubbed him as the ‘butter baby.’

Ridley had on a black apron that was blank, but it was so covered in what looked to be flour. So much so that it might as well have been white.

The funniest thing, though, was the apron Lenore was pulling on over her head.

On it said, ‘
I’m the butter queen.
’

I laughed.

Lenore narrowed her eyes as she looked down at what had caught my attention, then sighed.

“Really, Rayleigh? You couldn’t have found me anything other than one that says ‘queen’ on it?” Lenore asked laughingly.