He kissed her forehead. "Nah, you've done nothing wrong."
"Promise?"
"Swear on my Tarkio patch." He got on the Harley behind her, setting her where he felt more secure taking her on the ride. "We're going to go fast on the backroads. Don't squirm."
She patted the gas tank. "I'm ready to roll, Uncle."
Her spirit made his job even harder. Faye had dealt with more trauma in her young life than a lot of the Tarkio members had that were four times her age. With Walker raising her, Faye had a mouth like a biker, the stubbornness like a biker, and no fear like a biker.
He swallowed hard. Even bikers crumbled. They usually came back harder and meaner than before, and that wasn't something he wanted for Faye.
With Faye cradled in front of him, he headed toward town, using the backroads. It would do no good getting stopped by a cop twice in the same day.
At the clubhouse, he lifted Faye off the seat and set her feet on the ground. She took off her helmet by herself and swung the child-sized brain bucket at her side, skipping to keep up with him.
The few men in the main room left, leaving the clubhouse empty. They all knew what was going down. He couldn't blame them for not wanting to witness what was about to happen.
Faye stopped in the middle of the room. Her little brows pulled down in a frown.
Not often had he been inside the clubhouse when no music was playing, and all the bottles of alcohol were still behind the make-shift bar at the side of the room. Walker's absence had hit the whole club hard.
"Uncle Curley?" Faye hugged her helmet to her stomach. "Where's Uncle Walker?"
He walked over to the couch and patted the cushion. "Come here, Faye."
She took tiny steps and perched on the edge of the couch, half-turned, and looked at him. Her eyes welled with tears, and she hadn't even heard what had happened yet.
She was too smart for her own good. Already, she expected something bad. And she was right to try and protect herself.
The news he needed to give her would destroy her.
He blew out his breath. She was old enough to understand what happened and too young for him to explain the details of Walker's arrest to her.
"Your Uncle Walker won't be coming home for a while." He grabbed her arm when she darted to her feet. "Stay here and let me talk."
"I want Unc—"
"I know you do." He shifted and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her slim body. "You'll get to see him, but not right now."
"Where is he?"
"He was arrested by the police, and there's a good chance he'll have to stay in prison for a while." He rubbed his lips together, feeling the weight of what transpired and his part in taking her uncle away from her.
Right now was about Faye and seeing her settle. It wasn't about him.
Time meant nothing at eight years old. A week felt like a lifetime. A lifetime was death. She had no concept of what awhile meant.
Faye's chin hit her chest, and her shoulders rolled forward. His throat clamped closed. Sometimes, he hated his position within Tarkio. As the vice president, he knew the families of the members inside and out.
Of course, he knew Walker and Faye better than the others. Most of his free time was spent at Walker's place, or Walker would come by his house, often bringing Faye if one of the women who hung around the club couldn't babysit her.
"I'm going to take you to your grandma June tomorrow and tell her you'll be staying with her while your uncle gets things sorted. It'll be good for you to get to know her better. And for tonight, you can stay in one of the bedrooms at the clubhouse."
"I don't want to go to Grandma June's house," she muttered. "It stinks in her house."
He couldn't disagree with her. Old people's houses had an aroma of their own, filled with loneliness, regret, and if they were lucky, a satisfaction of a long life well-lived. But Grandma June ran a small nursery business in her backyard to help add some income to her social security check. Her house was filled with plants and flowers, giving off an earthy scent that took some getting used to.
Faye's head straightened. "Maybe if I talk to a policeman. I-I can tell him how good Uncle Walker is, and he can tell them he's sorry and won't get in trouble again. I don't want them to take him. He's my only uncle."
He shook his head, emotions clogging his damn throat. She wasn't the only one who wished they could talk to the Feds.
"It doesn't work that way. Besides, every Tarkio member is your uncle. I'm still your uncle," he said.
Her little fists swung in his direction, pounding his chest as reality and fear sunk their ugly teeth into her. "I don't like you anymore. You're not my uncle. I want my real uncle back. Give him back to me. Please. Please. Plea..."
Faye's sobbing screams deafened him to everything else. He wrapped his arms around her small shaking body and held her tightly, one hand holding her head into the crook of his neck.
Her tears wet his skin. He closed his eyes, but nothing would stop the burn behind his eyelids.
He'd do anything for that little girl. She deserved more than she received in life.
Chapter 1
Curley
1991
The waitress at Riverside Bar removed the two empty beer bottles from in front of Curley. He continued drinking from the mug in his hand, no calmer than when he'd walked into the place.
"Come on, Curley." Roddy tossed cash down on the counter. "You can stay at my place."
He stalled leaving the bar because Faye showed up at his house. His old lady—what a joke. Faye was no more his woman than he was her man.
Just because she wanted to make his life hell whenever she showed up at the clubhouse, the other Tarkio Member indulged her. It wouldn't surprise him to find out one of them told her to stay at his house.
Faye needed to go back to her house in Superior. Back to her job at Hot Springs Lounge and spend time growing those flowers, she was so fond of growing.
He ran his forearm over his mouth. "I'm going home."
"Sure?"
Curley grunted. He was never sure of anything when it came to Faye
Roddy slapped his shoulder. "If you plan on riding home, you better finish your beer and get out of here, or I'll be tying you to the back of my Harley and hauling you home myself."
"I'm not leaving my Harley," he muttered. "I'm damn sure not going to let Faye wiggle her way into my life because she's got an itch to visit."
"Have you told her that?"
"I don't tell her shit." He slammed the mug down on the counter and turned on the barstool. "I'm going home."
"Are you okay to ride?"
The last time three beers knocked him upside the head, he'd taken a six-pack from his dad's stash in the garage when he was thirteen years old. Back then, it wasn't the alcohol that scrambled his brains. It was his dad's fists, taking their pound of flesh from his body, for stealing his beer.
He lifted his hand in farewell. "Catch you later, Roddy."
Weaving through the crowd, he pushed outside and walked to his motorcycle. He wasn't in the mood to hang with the other Tarkio Motorcycle Club members that came over to drink the night away.