His Old Lady - Debra Kayn Page 0,1

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.

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