by Debra Kayn
His spine stiffened. "Faye's a waitress. She's not going to work at a titty bar."
"That's what I thought, too, but—"
"What the fuck are you telling me?"
"I spotted her car the other day parked at Kingston Bar." Paco grabbed Curley's vest when he stepped back. "Bro, it was just a feeling."
"You should've come to me." Curley shoved Paco's hand off him. "That place is even worse than Riverside Bar."
"I'm not done."
"Jesus..." Curley fisted his right hand. "Finish."
"Earlier, my hunch came true. Faye showed up at Kingston with three women with her. Real lookers, all of them." Paco shook his hand. "I talked to her. She wouldn't tell me why she was there and left alone. I went inside and talked to Lance—the owner. He's an active manager there."
"I know him."
"He informed me that he'd hired Faye and some of her girlfriends to work three nights a week—Wednesday, Friday, Saturday. They're the new waitresses."
His jaw locked. "Faye's working at the titty bar?"
"Far as I know."
Rage curled in his chest. He tossed his burnt-out cigarette to the ground. He couldn't believe Faye was mixed up in that shit.
He'd checked up on Faye numerous times, unannounced, at the lounge she'd worked at in Superior. There were no titty dancers there. The rowdiest it got was when some asshole threw a bottle at his twice-removed cousin during a family argument over who owed who twenty bucks.
Not only had he witnessed her working, but she'd also told him enough about her old job, he had no worries.
He stepped toward his motorcycle, needing to see her and find out that Paco was wrong.
"Wait..." Paco caught up with him. "Where are you going?"
"To Superior and bust down her door and get the truth." He lifted his leg over the seat of his Harley.
"It's Saturday." Two bikes down, Paco got on his Motorcycle. "She'll be at Kingston Bar working."
He roared the Harley to life. Wherever she was, he was going to find her. And if he found out she was taking her clothes off for other men, she'd find out quick what being his old lady meant.
Chapter 9
Faye
The tables in the back of the bar gave Faye the advantage of having fewer eyes on her. She clamped her elbows to her sides, holding the empty serving tray in front of her without making it obvious that she was trying to keep her breasts from moving.
As self-conscious as she was, there was something exhilarating about seeing the men enjoy looking at her. She'd never given her breasts much thought, but after an hour of working, she felt powerful and in control—the opposite of what she'd expected.
Lance sat in the designated booth off to the side in the middle of the room throughout the night, keeping an eye on all the waitresses—she assumed to protect them. He had a huge presence within the establishment. He ruled over the waitresses, the bartenders, and the customers, who sought him out as if he was the king of the castle.
Luckily for her, she was used to taking orders while working and went about servicing the customers without taking his dominating personality to heart. She was good at her job, and once she forgot her boobs were on display as much as the daily special, she became more comfortable with the job.
It brought in money, and so far, the tips were more than she'd ever seen working at Hot Springs Lounge.
Lance talked to someone from the nearby table. She scooted around a group of men, her shoulder rubbing against the wall.
"How's everyone doing?" She stopped in front of a group of three men.
"Give us five minutes, and we'll be ready for another round." The man eyed her breasts, raising his brows. "Keep us company, sugar, and we might drink faster."
"What would the other thirsty customers say if I spent all my time at this table?" She laughed and flipped the tray, holding it like a shield. "So many thirsty men. You hold tight. I'll be back."
The man groaned, patting his chest. "You wound me."
"Ah, you look like you're a man who can be patient." She smiled, enjoying the flirtation, and backed away.
Seeing Lance watching her, she went over to the booth. "Do you need anything?"
"I'm all set for a while." He lifted his chin. "You have a way with customers. What do you think of the job?"
"So far, so good." She looked out at the room, spotting her friends. "It looks like everyone is staying ahead of the orders."
Though she couldn't answer for the others, it was essential to each of them that their latest job worked out.
"You were right about the women adapting to the atmosphere." He gazed out at Stephanie. "They look like they've rehearsed. You have talented friends."
"I do." Conscious of Angela moving to a different table, Faye took in the situation. Angela stood confidently and looked each customer in the eyes. It was as if she forgot that she was naked from the waist up.
A large man covered in tattoos leaned forward. Angela's breasts gained all his attention.
Faye checked her watch. They were due for a break. Usually, she never had to remind the women to leave the floor, but she had to remember she wasn't in charge at Kingston Bar.
"Aw, shit." Lance sat straighter in the booth.
She glanced at him and followed his intense gaze across the room. She spotted a familiar leather vest.
"Curley," she muttered, dealing with her own rise in anxiety.
Curley and Paco stood inside the doorway. There was no second-guessing why they'd come to the bar, and it wasn't for beer.
Curley took a step toward her, his face blacker than asphalt and set in concrete. The sudden urge to run hit her.
Lance slid out of the booth and stood beside her. Curley, staring straight at her, stalked forward, ignoring Lance at her side.
"I, uh, need to go on my break." She set the tray on the table beside her, milliseconds before Curley stood in front of her.
Hooking her under the arm, Curley pulled her away from Lance. Not wanting to cause trouble on her first day of work, and knowing Curley could burn the place down around her, she put up no resistance.
"Outside. Now." He hauled her to her toes, pulling her across the room.
Catching Angela's attention on her way out, she mouthed, "I'm okay."
Receiving a nod in reply, she slipped out the door. The cooler air washed over her. Away from Lance. Away from the customers. Away from her responsibilities, she slapped at Curley's hand. "Let me go."
"What the hell, Faye?" He inched closer. "Showing your titties?"
His gaze lowered to her breasts. Her nipples peaked, probably in anger, wanting to stab him in the eyes.
Paco tossed Curley a shirt and stepped away. Curley wrapped the long-sleeved flannel around her upper body.
"Oh, so now, you're going to be the upstanding citizen." She folded her arms in front of her, keeping the edges of the shirt closed. "I'm sure you've already seen more boobs tonight at the clubhouse than you have in Kingston Bar, so don't act like you're better than me."
Paco moved farther away. She held her ground. Curley couldn't storm into where she worked and disrupt her livelihood.
"You belong to me."
"I'm my own woman." She pressed her lips together. "You don't want me, and you know what you have to do to never see me again. Then, I won't be your problem, and you can stop trying to get me fired."
He growled and stepped closer until his abdomen brushed against her crossed arms. "Get your friends or leave them here, I don't give a shit. You're going home."
"No. I'm not." She raised her chin. "I'm going back inside. My break will be over in a few minutes, and I plan on finishing my shift."
She walked past him, expecting him to grab her. When she pushed through the door, she almost looked behind her to see why he wasn't stopping her, but Lance stood inside the bar, waiting for her.
Wanting to save face, she slowed her steps and went into the back to wash her hands and rid herself of the flannel shirt, marking her a
s belonging to Tarkio Motorcycle Club.
Not wasting a second or giving herself a chance to fall apart, she walked out of the breakroom, hoping no one could see how hard her heart hammered inside her chest. She went straight to the bar and picked up the orders waiting to be made. She would've checked in with the other waitresses, but her legs wouldn't support her through the crowd of customers.
Damn, Curley.
Why would he pick tonight to come here?
He spent most of his time at the clubhouse where he had all the women he wanted, endless alcohol and drugs, and men who supported his hard lifestyle. There was no reason for him to come to Kingston Bar.
Her eyes burned. Why couldn't he accept that he'd never take their relationship seriously and let her go?
Before she had sex with him, he was the closest person she had in her life since Uncle Walker went to prison. She'd gone to him for every problem, no matter how big or small.
Grandma June, for how much Faye loved her, was old and hadn't understood her generation. By the time she was fourteen years old, instead of getting guidance from her great-grandma, she'd stepped up into the role of taking care of Grandma June.
It was hard and lonely, and she'd spent a lot of days struggling to hold it together, knowing that she'd soon be left alone again. And, the death she knew was in the house with them had taken Grandma June before Faye was ready to be on her own.
She was left with a house, a dwindling nursery business, and a deep loneliness dwelling inside of her.
Inhaling deeply, she stopped the tears from escaping. She was stupid and immature to believe sleeping with Curley would keep him in her life.
Most of all, she hated how desperately she loved him. Seeing him here made her breathless, excited, and wet. For one second, she'd hoped the first words out of his mouth had to do with how much he wanted her, but they weren't.
He only wanted her away from Kingston Bar. It had nothing to do with her, but him. Him and his damn motorcycle club.
Lance approached her. She stood straighter, determined not to let her past ruin her future.
"Are you connected to Tarkio Motorcycle Club?" asked Lance.
"No."
Curley might have something different to say, but he couldn't claim she belonged to him when he lived his life and usually left her alone. She'd even gone out on a few dates, just to see if he'd notice, and nothing ever happened, with the other boys or with Curley.
He didn't care about her in the same way she cared about him. Even tonight, she internally wanted him. She wished he'd haul her over his shoulder in a big show of ownership and take her home.
Lance's gaze hardened. "I hope that's true because I can't have them hanging out around here. If they show up again, you and your friends are out of here."
"Understood." She glanced at Stephanie, hovering nearby.
Warmth flooded her body. She needed no one to tell her that her face was flushed from embarrassment, disappointment, and anger.
Curley was the only one who could have her emotions all over the place. She wanted to scream and hit at the same time as she wanted to slink under the table and bawl her eyes out.
She needed to go to the prison and talk to Uncle Walker. He was the only one who had a chance at helping her cut Curley out of her life. Maybe then the scars on her heart would heal.
Chapter 10
Curley
The garage door went up, and Faye turned her car into the driveway.
Curley pulled in behind her, parking outside. He still thought of the house as belonging to Grandma June, but Faye had rightly gained ownership upon her grandma's death and had taken care of the place on her own for the last six years.
Not once had she called for him to fix the plumping or clean the gutters.
Even in the dark, he could tell she kept the grass mowed, the flowerbeds free of weeds, and even hung an American flag on the porch.
For how young Faye was, she'd taken her responsibilities seriously. He took no credit for the woman she'd turned into over the years. That was all on Grandma June, who'd taught her to take pride in herself and what she owned.
Behind the house, a large greenhouse sat full of colorful flowers. That's where Faye usually could be found when she wasn't working a part-time job. He couldn't understand what she found with her hands deep in the dirt and the exhausting labor of growing plants from seeds, but he'd witnessed her doing what she loved when she wasn't looking.
Growing flowers brought her joy and peace, something she hadn't had much of in her life. There were times in the past when he'd catch her singing while a mist soaked her hair, and the overwhelming scent of roses hung in the air, unaware that he'd stopped by.
She could stare at a bloom, pick off green foliage, and fertilize with dead fish with more patience and dedication than he could understand. That love of growing was the opposite of the quick temper, stubbornness, and impatience she directed at him.
He got off his Harley, needing to talk to Faye with nobody around.
The garage door automatically went down. He jogged over and hooked his hand under the door, stopping its descent. Crouching down, he slipped into the garage.
Faye got out of her car. "Go home, Curley."
"We need to talk."
"No, you need to leave, and I need to go to bed. It's late. I'm tired." She walked to the garage door leading into the house and reached up to push the button. "Go. I'm putting the door down."
He walked over and pushed the button twice for her, then opened the house. "If you're in a hurry, I'll make this quick."
She sighed and walked inside, tossing her purse on the kitchen counter before walking into the living room. He followed, taking everything in.
The interior no longer resembled an old lady's house with knickknacks on every available surface. Those lacy-things on the end tables that he remembered being there when Grandma June was alive were gone. The jungle of plants that used to choke him when he visited was also gone.
"What happened to all the plants?" he asked.
"I put them in the greenhouse. I'm out there more than I'm in here." She sat on the couch, slouching against the cushions. "What do you want?"
He sat in the rocker near the front window. "I've seen you serve drinks at your old job."
"So."
"When did you start flashing your—?"
"Curley." She rubbed her forehead. "Skip the questions for tonight. Just tell me why you're here."
"I don't want my woman working at Kingston Bar or wrapped up in showing her titties to half the men in Missoula." He stood. "You're not going back."
"I'm going—"
A loud knock on the door startled her. He raised his hand, keeping her from getting off the couch. "Who comes over here at three o'clock in the morning?"
Her rounded eyes narrowed. "You," she whispered on a hiss.
He reached for the pistol at his back and moved toward the door. There was no peephole to look out of or windows nearby to see who would be on the other side. How had he not noticed how unprotected she was living here?
Motioning for her to stay back, he unlocked the door, swept it open, and shoved the end of the pistol in the visitor's neck.
"What the fuck do you want?" He kept his body between the male visitor and Faye.
"I-I..." The man exhaled in Curley's face. "Faye. I've come to talk to Faye."
"Who are you to her?" He kept the weapon on the man.
"He's my old boss," said Faye behind him. "Go away, Cal."
Curley refused to move. "You heard the lady."
Cal backed away, putting up his palms. "Faye, come see me at the lounge. Let me make things right."
"Not happening. I'm not interested," said Faye.
Curley stepped out on the porch and stayed there until Cal jogged out to the street and got into his car.
As the vehicle drove out of sight, a sense of disconnect came over him. He had his club, his MC brothers, and they'd become the family he never had when he was kicke
d out of the house at eighteen years old.
But his woman was dealing with things he had no idea about. She worked a job he wasn't privy to, and there were secrets kept from him.
She'd made him the outsider, and he didn't like it.
He had no right to claim her or her life, but damn, she belonged to him.
Walking inside, he locked the door. "Want to explain why that guy thought it was okay to visit you in the middle of the night?"
"No."
"Is this the first time, or do you always have men coming over?"
"Stop." She shook her head. "I know what you're thinking, and no, he's never come over here before."
He had a hard time believing that was true. The guy was lucky he hadn't blown his head off.
Without thinking, he said, "I'm spending the night."
"Oh, my God." Faye thrust both hands in her hair and gawked at him. "You. Are. Unbelievable."
"What?"
She shook her head and let her hands fall to her sides. "You know what? Do whatever you want. You will, anyway. I'm going to bed. Please leave before I get up in the morning. I have enough going on in my life than to deal with you on top of everything else."
She walked out of the room, hugging her middle. Once she was out of sight, he looked around the room. He hadn't planned on staying.
Keyed up, he could make the hour trip home with no problem. The cool night air would probably help clear his head.
But he wouldn't take a chance at her old boss making another visit. Faye wasn't going to fuck around on him when he was around.
Besides, she'd quit her job. It was obvious that her ex-boss wanted her back to work for him. It would be a damn better job than working at Kingston Bar. At least at the lounge, she kept her clothes on.
He walked down the hallway. The light was on in Faye's old bedroom, and he could hear the shower running in the hall bathroom.
He turned the knob for Grandma June's old bedroom, and the door opened ten inches before stopping. Reaching in, he flipped on the light.
