Page 38 of His Old Lady

"I said, I'll deal with her." He hung up the phone.

His mind reeled. Faye had gone to prison and visited her uncle. She picked a fine-fucking-time to involve Walker in their problems.

"Everything okay?" asked Paco.

He glared at his MC brother. All Paco had to do was ignore the damn phone call, and he never would've had to talk to Walker.

After all these years of Walker having nothing to do with him, he picked the worst time to make contact. Curley was up against the wall. He owed Walker. To ignore his demand, he could be putting his own life on the line.

"No." He walked out of the clubhouse and to his Harley.

Everything was not fucking okay.

He pulled out onto the street and headed in the opposite direction of home and continued to the on-ramp for the interstate. He and Walker went way back. There was a time when either one of them would've taken a bullet for the other. Their loyalty was proven more than once.

Curley owed Walker a payment that could never be paid.

But all that fell to the side when he claimed Faye.

After Walker had told him he was no brother of his when Curley had confessed to sleeping with Faye, there was only one thing that would make him call.

And that reason had a lot to answer for.

An hour later, he knocked on Faye's door. During the few minutes he waited, he came up with several ways to make sure she understood he was the only man she should come to with her problems. He would be the only one helping her. He was the only man who had the right to have her.

She'd forced his hand when she'd stripped naked and crawled in his bed. Now, she had to live with the consequences.

The door opened. Faye filled his vision.

Her eyes captured his before he could make sure she was unharmed and okay. His body hardened. He was sick of protecting her.

He'd like nothing more than to show her exactly how he felt and shock some sense into her. She was no longer a teenager on the cusp of adulthood and needed to know she couldn't walk around, tempting him, unless she was prepared for what he could do to her.

She frowned, pulling her robe tighter around her body. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk."

"I just got out of the shower and planned to put a movie in the DVD player before I go to bed. Can it wait?"

He knew what was under the material she held together so desperately. She could be covered in ten blankets, and he'd know what he'd find underneath. He fisted his hands. Every curve memorized; he could practically feel her smooth skin against his fingers.

Reaching above her shoulder, he pushed the door open more and stepped around her. The aroma of her shampoo lingered in the small room. He couldn't pinpoint if it was a fruit or a flower or a mysterious concoction hanging in the air meant to grab a man by his balls and take him to his knees, but he stood in her living room, trying to remember what he came here to do.

"Curley." Faye yawned. "What are you doing here?"

He remembered why he came. "Did you go to the prison yesterday?"

Her eyelids lowered to the necklaces at the base of his throat. "Yes. I told you I was going."

His throat seized in disappointment. Why would she go to Walker when she was his old lady? Why would she force him to face Walker when he'd already ruined the man's life?

Now he faced having to let her go or fight her every step to get her to quit her job. He was too tired to hash out her idea of working at Kingston Bar with her, and he would never let her go. She meant more to him than anyone would be able to understand.

"Curley?"

He snapped his head up, catching the concern in her voice. She belonged to him.

He hooked her neck, pulling her hard against his body. She blinked fully awake, staring up into his eyes. She'd gone from a scrappy young girl to a beautiful woman in the blink of an eye. He couldn't keep up, and he hated himself for seeing her as sexy and willing when he was there the whole time, helping her grow up without a family.