Page 109 of Stone

But there was more to think about than myself or even my baby. John had a whole other family who loved him, and although things were fraught, I knew I owed it to my ol’ man to give them a chance.

Robert had given me a solution to every obstacle in my way. Still, there was one person I needed to speak to, if only to help me decide what to do one way or the other.

As much as the thought brought a tremor to my fingers, I owed it to John to do one last thing.

I had to speak to Bandit.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Elise

Taking a deep breath, I turned Bessie’s steering wheel left and drove into the Speed Demons compound.

I’d already decided not to accept Robbie’s proposal, but I’d also decided I needed help. Having the sonogram and speaking to Robbie had somehow pulled me from my daze. I’d gone home and begun to plan a way forward. Finally, I’d come to the conclusion that it was impossible to do it alone.

Mom was so deep in her grief that I worried one more blow would send her into a breakdown. Point in case: she was so far inside her own head and thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed I was pregnant. My only other option was Bandit, because when I thought about it, I recognized that for all his faults, he loved his family.

I wasn’t sure of the reception I’d get coming here, but I had to at least tell him about the baby and hope, after the initial shock, he’d take me under his wing. Plus, I found it was easier to swallow my pride when I was doing it for my daughter.

The first thing I noticed when I parked Bessie was the state of the place.

Trash and beer cans were strewn on the ground. Motorcycles were parked haphazardly, and brightly colored pieces of cloth were dotted here and there. The compound had never been a palace, but Connie always made sure it was clean and welcoming. Now, car and bike parts had been thrown in ahaphazard pile next to the farmhouse, and the barn door hung off its hinges.

The place reminded me of one of those old, deserted Western towns on documentaries with the saloon doors that swung ghostlike in the wind. It was deserted; leaves and dust blew everywhere. I wouldn’t have been surprised if tumbleweed didn’t blow through any second.

I pulled my shoulders back, jutted my chin, and began to pick my way over the asphalt toward the barn. Bandit had to be around here somewhere.

Gingerly, I stepped inside and looked around, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. It looked like a bomb had gone off. More beer bottles were strewn everywhere. Broken glass littered the floor and thick layers of dust coated surfaces that obviously hadn’t been touched in weeks.

“Hello?” I called out. “Bandit?”

A loud groan came from behind the bar, and mutters rose up through the air, along with curses and women’s giggles and murmurs.

Confused, I looked around and saw several bodies moving at the far end of the room. Half-clothed men and women who’d been sleeping on the floor began to sit up and look around.

“What the fuck’s that bitch doin’ here?” someone questioned.

“What bitch?” Bandit’s raspy, sleep-filled voice demanded from a far corner.

The rustle of clothes permeated through the air, followed by the sound of zippers being pulled and boots thudding to the floor. A large silhouette loomed, and Bandit emerged from the shadows wearing just his jeans.

His stare caught mine, and the same sneer from the night before slid back onto his face. He sauntered up close, leaned down, and snarled, “Get the fuck out, bitch.”

Heart pounding, I jutted my chin up, desperately trying not to gag at the reek of liquor fumes coming off him. “I need to talk to you.”

His bloodshot eyes flicked from my head to my toes and back again. “Got nothin’ to say to you. Now, turn your townie bitch ass around,” his voice turned into a bellow, “andget the fuck out.”

“It’s important, Bandit,” I insisted. My finger went to the buttons of my coat, and I began to undo them. “I need to tell you something.”

Bandit’s strong hands shoved mine away before gripping my lapels. Then, with a sharp tug, he ripped my coat open.

Silence reigned except for the sounds of buttons as they hit the tiled floor and scattered.

“I fuckin’ know,” he bit out. “Went to Bert’s office last night. Wanted to see how you were doin’, make amends for my boy’s sake, and check in. Instead, I saw ya with your pretty boy, stuck-up asshole, all cozy together, holding hands and canoodling.” His eyes cut through me. “What are ya? Four months along? You didn’t even wait for my boy to die before you jumped into bed with that prick.” His stare flicked over me dismissively. “I guess I should be grateful. At least John went to his maker, never findin’ out what a traitorous, lying, conniving cunt you are.”

My throat heated. “That’s not it,” I croaked. “You don’t understand.” But the roars and shouted insults of the brothers drowned out my voice.

“Traitorous bitch.”

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