Prologue
Curley
1975
The president of Tarkio Motorcycle Club pulled into the driveway of Rock Greer's house. Curley, having arrived ten minutes earlier, made no move to get off his motorcycle. The devil was pushing his back.
He'd do anything not to walk inside the house and give bad news to a little girl that deserved a fucking break in life.
Today was going to add one more shit thing on Faye Walker's slender shoulders that she would have to live with for the rest of her life.
Nobody promised him the vice president spot in Tarkio Motorcycle Club would be all willing women, endless parties, and open roads. But today, he'd give his soul away to protect the little girl inside the house from what was going to upset her world.
"It should've been me, Prez," he whispered. "God damnit. It should've been fucking me."
"You know what Walker wanted to do."
"How am I supposed to live with that, huh?" He closed his eyes an extra beat, trying to unsee Walker locking his gaze on him as the Feds hauled his MC brother away.
"I can talk to Faye." Priest stood, gazing at the house.
Curley stared at the single-story home. Faye played inside with her friend, Tracy, doing what eight-year-old girls do when together. She had no idea what happened to her Uncle Walker only hours ago.
Walker was his best friend. His loyal brother. The closest thing he had to family.
During today's run for Tarkio, Walker had ridden beside him until the Feds surrounded the members and ordered each one of them by gunpoint to get down on the ground. Aware of the truckload of black-market parts ten miles ahead of them on the freeway, heading toward Lagsturns MC, his only thought was that the dumbasses had missed their chance at arresting them.
None of the members had anything on them during the run, except their weapons. At the first sign of flashing lights, the members with a criminal record handed their pistols off to the members that were legal to carry without slowing down.
He was sure the men were safe from arrest, thanks to Montana's concealed weapons law.
As they'd pulled over to the side of the highway, Walker had slipped Curley his pistol because of having a past and spending a year in prison as an eighteen-year-old for something stupid.
But the Feds rolled up, pushing the state police away from the scene, and had come gunning for Walker. They took him in for two counts of premeditated murder. Depending on what the jury decided when they finally marched him in front of the judge, Walker was looking at twenty-five years to life in prison.
Shaking his head, he needed to put the takedown away for the next few hours and deal with Faye.
"I gave my word to Walker. I'm going to take care of his family." He got off his Harley. "It's going to fuck up that little girl's life, not having her uncle Walker."
"There's a grandma in the picture. She'll have to take care of Faye," said Priest.
"Yeah, but it's Faye's great-grandma. She's seventy-five years old. How long and how efficient can she watch an eight-year-old?" Curley dug the heel of his boot into the gravel. "It's not fair to either one of them, but there's not much else that can be done unless social services get involved."
"We could work something out within the club. I can ask around and see if someone wants to step up and take care of the kid."
He wasn't sure that was the best choice for Faye. At any time, because of the business Tarkio was in, she could lose more people in her life. The best thing would be to get her far away from the club where nobody could fuck up her world again. At least her great-grandma would be a stable person in her life.
"Let's cross that bridge later. Faye needs family, and right now, all we have is Grandma June." He walked up to the front door and rang the bell.
Rock's old lady answered the door and stepped back, letting Curley enter. "She's in the bedroom, playing with Tracy."
"Does she know anything yet?"
She shook her head. "Rock told me to act normal and not mention what happened."
The loss of one of their own today had hit every member hard. It was going to devastate Faye. She'd only had her uncle Walker in her life after her mom ran off when Faye was an infant. Her mom eventually overdosed in some seedy backroom of her pimp's house. There was no father in the picture. Her daddy could be any number of men in Missoula who hung out in the drug scene.
He exhaled harshly. "I'll take her away from the house and break the news to her, so we don't upset Tracy."
Rock's old lady rubbed his arm. "I'm sorry, Curley. I know he was like a brother to you."
He dipped his chin, walked to the hallway, and cleared his throat. "Faye?"
The patter of feet reached him before an eager face surrounded by messy, brown hair peeked out of one of the bedrooms. He crooked his finger, drawing her out.
Faye skipped toward him, smiling with her whole face and brushing the strands of hair from her vision. Her light brown eyes filled with pure joy at seeing him, and he felt like the world's biggest dick.
She collided with his lower half, wrapping her arms around his hips. "Are you taking me home, Uncle Curley?"
His chest squeezed. "I'm here to take you to the clubhouse. Do you have your helmet?"
She nodded hard enough, he wondered if she'd snap her thin, little neck. "I brought the one Uncle Roddy bought me for Christmas. I'll get it."
Faye passed him and ran into the living room. He shook his head in agony. By the time the evening ended, he would be responsible for stealing the skip out of her walk.
He followed her into the living room, feeling all two-hundred and twenty pounds of his weight. Rock's old lady helped Faye into her jacket, zipping her up to her chin. The weather was warm, but Faye was a child and needed extra protection.
If a bee or large flying insect hit her during the ride, she needed her tender skin protected to keep her safe. A child reacted before her personal safety came into play, and that made riding on his motorcycle dangerous for her.
Faye wiggled her foot into her sneaker and looked up at him, batting those innocent eyes. "Is Uncle Walker at the clubhouse?"
Sweet Jesus. The news was going to devastate her.
He held her gaze. "Not yet."
Faye grabbed his hand. He was always afraid to hold onto her because her tiny fingers seemed breakable in his calloused paw.
Running footsteps came from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and found Tracy skidding to a halt.
"Can I go to the clubhouse, too?" Tracy held a duffle bag. "Dad can bring me home."
"No, you need to stay here with me. Tell Faye goodbye, and you'll see her later." Tracy's mom hustled the girl out of the room the moment the two of them finished their hug and made promises, linking their pinkies together.
Curley opened the door and led Faye outside. At his Harley, Faye looked at Priest and leaned against Curley's side.
He lifted her onto his bike. Not comfortable having her on the back of his motorcycle, although Walker took her everywhere. He wasn't used to taking a kid on the open road.
Faye grabbed his thick, linked necklace and pulled him down to her level. "Am I in trouble? Is Priest going to make me clean the clubhouse again?"
Her gaze flashed to Priest before looking back at Curley. His chest tightened. If only that was the problem. She could face any punishment head-on, but taking the man who filled her whole world away from her was going to break her.