Page 110 of Stone

“What a lying cunt.”

“Fuckin’ slut.”

The thing was, I could handle those names. They didn’t mean anything because I knew they weren’t true. What hurt me down to my core was Seth’s roar, “John would be ashamed.”

I let out a loud sob, my arms cradling my stomach, trying to shield my baby from the hate and vitriol swirling violently through the air.

Bandit stepped away, hocked his saliva back in his throat, and spat at my feet. “Get. Out.” His voice was deathly quiet.

“I need to explain,” I insisted. “Bandit, you’ve got to listen to me.”

Quick as a flash, he reached into the back of his waistband, pulled a gun, and butted it against my temple. “My son and my wife trusted you,” he rasped. “Their bodies aren’t even cold, and you’re already knocked up by the biggest shit stick in town. If you’re not outta this clubhouse by the time I count to ten, a bullet’s goin’ into your skull, and you can be damned in hell. I don’t care if they lock me up until the day I drop down dead. Got nothin’ left anyway.”

My eyes met his golden-brown ones, so much like John’s.

The ache began to pulse inside, and all hope drained away, leaving a realization in its place.

There was no point. Bandit had made his mind up about me, probably the day John introduced me to him and Connie. I didn’t know what I’d ever done to deserve his contempt; maybe it stemmed from my dad’s dislike of him or even the rest of the town’s.

I didn’t stand a chance.

I never did.

“One,” Bandit drawled, eyes like ice, freezing the shell that was left of my heart.

I didn’t wait for ‘two’; instead, I turned on my heel, raced out of the clubhouse, and stumbled into the parking lot. Boots pounded as the men sauntered after me, jeering and cat-calling more insults. A sharp sting and searing pain emanated from my shoulder, and a rock thudded to the ground beside me as everybody laughed.

“Nice throw, Seth,” someone called.

“Just doin’ as the Bible says,” he jeered. “They stoned whores to death back then.”

Roars of laughter filled the air, and I swore to myself and my dad in heaven that I would never let my daughter near these animals again. Not for as long as I lived.

I reached out and swung open Bessie’s driver’s door.

“Nah, ha!” Bandit called out.

My chest froze over, fear licking at my insides. I slowly turned back to face him.

The gun he still had pointed at me jerked to one side, indicating for me to move away. “That’s my boy’s truck. I’m his next of kin, so that makes it my truck. You’re not gettin’ any more of my John. You took enough pieces from him.”

A wave of nausea hit me.

Bessie was all I had left of my ol’ man.

“No,” I breathed. “Please, Bandit. Don’t do this.” I began to babble in between my sobs. “Please, please don’t do this.”

“Two.” Bandit’s lip curled. “Three. Four”—he sped up—“five six seven eight nine ten.”

I screamed as a deafening bang splintered the air, and I felt a bullet whizz past my ear. A loud roar went up, along with hollers and cackles of laughter. I started shaking, pure terror taking over my senses. A sharp pain hit inside my stomach, and my hands flew to my baby.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“That baby’s the one reason I missed,” Bandit bellowed. “Though, I should put it out of its misery rather than let it have a disloyal bitch of a mother like you. Walk outta here, bitch! Or you and your spawn are dead.”

Everything began to shake: my hands, knees, arms, even my head. I could hardly see through the tears filling my eyes and streaming down my face. Sobbing, I turned and stumbledtoward the road, but my foot caught on something, and with a cry, I fell to the ground.

“Best place for whores is on their knees,” a voice shouted.

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