Just one more thing to do on my mile-long list of shit to organize.
My life wasn’t my own. On top of running the club and getting my boys and their mom sorted out, I was supposed to give Aislynn attention, too. Not for the first time, I wished I could go back to the days when I could crook a finger to get some female company and then leave it in the rearview when I was done. Everything was a lot less complicated back then.
Setting up the club was taking up all my time. It didn’t help that I needed eyes in the back of my head to keep tabs on Huntley and his law enforcement boys, either. Add on moving my boys to Coal Creek, finding and furnishing a house, and getting their mom into treatment, and it left no time for Aislynn, especially when she lived so far away because I had to factor a five-hour ride into the equation, too.
It was no wonder I was stressed to fuck.
The ride was uneventful. Once I got out of San Diego, it was pretty much plain sailing. The Kings of Anarchy mother chapter was situated in a town called Anarchy in Kings County, but I wasn’t riding that far east. Instead, I headed to Santee, just outside El Cajon, where Bree lived.
I made good time on my bike, which was what I’d aimed to do. I wanted to get to Bree before Rex and Roman did, just so I could get the lay of the land and talk to her without them there.
As soon as I pulled up outside the house, I could see something was wrong.
Bree had always been house proud. She’d nag me to mow the lawn out front and back and to keep the place looking nice. Now the grass was knee high, and the driveway had a beat-up old Ford balancing on bricks because the wheels had been taken off.
Fuck me, I hadn’t knocked on the damned door yet, and I was already irritated to fuck. This wasn’t how I wanted my boys to live. There was no way I would have left them in a dump. It was the reason I paid their mother more than enough green to make sure they all lived large, Bree included.
I dismounted, then took off my helmet and hung it from the handlebars before heading down the path and rapping hard on the front door.
Silence.
I knocked again with my fist, thudding hard and continuously until I heard a muttered voice from inside the house, saying, “Alright, alright. I’m coming,”
The chain rattled behind the door, and it cracked open.
Shoving my boot inside the threshold, I pushed the door hard and stepped inside, watching with distaste as my ex-woman staggered backward against the wall.
Breanna had always been pretty. Not beautiful and charismatic like Aislynn, but still, she was appealing with black, shiny hair, and big light-blue eyes that seemed to take up half her face. Now, those eyes were dull and empty, the pupils blown from drug use. Her skin was sallow, and her hair was greasy and unkempt.
My heart sank.
She was further gone than I realized.
Her eyes fixated on me, but she was so high it took her a few seconds to focus before she slurred, “Hey. Where are the boys?”
“On their way,” I replied. “Put ’em in a cab.”
“Oh,” she said, looking as if she hadn’t taken in a word I said.
“You been on the blow?” I demanded.
“Yeah, I had a bump,” she admitted. “I wasn’t expecting the boys back yet.” She wandered toward the living room, gesturing at me to follow.
“It’s Sunday,” I reminded her. “I gave you the flight times. Thought you might be at the airport to meet them off the plane.”
“The car’s in the garage,” she lied through her teeth.
“What garage?” I asked, walking into the living room and almost shuddering at the smell of drugs and nicotine permeating the air. “I’ll go down and see if I can hurry ’em up. You need wheels.”
“It’s okay,” she said vacantly. “I can deal with it.”
“What garage?” I insisted.
Her eyes flashed, which was a relief; anything was better than her acting like a fucking zombie, spaced out on drugs,
“It’s fine,” she insisted, sharper that time.
I folded my arms across my chest and dipped my chin. “Why are you lyin’ to me?”
