Page 62 of Stone

Like father like son.

Without pause, I scooped up my purse—stuffing John’s letter inside—grabbed the keys to Bessie and thundered from my room. As I took the stairs down, two at a time, I heard my dad call my name from the kitchen door, asking what was wrong, but his shocked voice hardly registered as I stormed from my house and jumped into Bessie.

As I whipped my head around to check the street, before I reversed from the driveway and sped away, I had one focus, one thought, and one objective.

It was time I gave Bandit Stone a piece of my mind.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the trees as I pulled up to the farmhouse, giving the sight before me an almost eerie feel. The parking lot was filled with bikes, and groups of brothers stood around drinking beer and shooting the shit, some with club girls under their arms.

Throwing open the door, I grabbed my purse and jumped down, noting the sound of electric guitars filling the lot as ‘Carry on Wayward Son’ by Kansas thumped loudly from the clubhouse. I wasn’t a confrontational person—if anything, Iavoided it at all costs—but the heat licking inside my belly and the burn invading my chest spurred me on.

A brother eventually noticed me standing there with my body stiff as a board and my hands clenching into fists.

He nudged the guy next to him and jerked his head toward me.

The second brother went to take a swig of beer when his eyes slashed in my direction. The bottle stopped halfway to his mouth, and he cocked his head curiously, booming, “Can we help you, sweetheart?”

I snapped my shoulders back and jutted my chin. “Where’s Bandit?” As my words hit the ether, a familiar loud cackle came from the clubhouse doors. I turned to see the man himself saunter out with Abe and John’s cousin Seth in tow.

Bandit’s familiar golden eyes flicked over my face, no doubt noting the fury coming off me in waves. His eyes slashed heavenward, and I saw the beard around his lips move as he muttered something under his breath.

Abe’s head swiveled toward Bandit and then toward me as he looked between us both quizzically. He muttered something to Bandit, who shrugged as they began their approach.

Whipping my bag from my shoulder, I rummaged inside and pulled out the letter, holding it up as Bandit neared. “Rifleman?” I shrieked. “What does that even mean?”

The sound of chatter faded, and the parking lot fell silent, except for the thud of bass from ‘Carry on Wayward Son.’

The Prez’s eyes narrowed slightly, and a bushy salt-and-pepper brow cocked in challenge. “You better watch your tone, girlie. The fuck you think you are?”

“Watch my tone?” I yelled. “I’ve just got a letter from John, telling me you encouraged him to take a dangerous job, and you tell me to watch my tone? What does Rifleman mean? Answermy question,” I thrust a hand through my hair, desperately willing myself to keep my tears at bay, “What did you do?”

Bandit’s arms crossed his barrel chest, and he planted his feet apart. “Show some fuckin respect. This ain’t a roller—fuckin’—disco, it’s a motorcycle club. Blowin’ up and givin’ me shit ain’t the way to go.” He leaned forward, getting in my face. “Now, I’ll only tell ya once, turn around, climb in the truck, and get gone. You can fuckin’ stay gone until ya find some respect and learn your damned place.”

I jutted my chin up further. “No!”

Shouts went up from the brothers, most saying, “Fuckin’ bitch,” and, “Get her the fuck outta here.”

My face heated. I went to say something, but instead, I heard a loud click from somewhere behind me, making my body lock.

“You heard him, bitch. Fuck off,” a voice rasped.

Slowly, I craned my neck to see John’s cousin there, with a gun pointed inches away from my head. My throat contracted in a hard swallow. “You’re gonna shoot me for asking questions?” I whispered incredulously, rotating my head back to Bandit. “Is this what you do here?”

“Stand down, Seth,” Abe ordered. “Talk about a damned overreaction. When Stone finds out what you just did, mark my words, he’ll fuck you up.”

“He won’t do shit,” Bandit announced. “My boy knows the way it is. I’m the one in charge, not some stuck-up townie girl.”

I waved the letter. “Is that why John changed his mind? To please you? It says he spoke to you, and you gave him your blessing. You’re his father; you’re supposed to protect him.”

Bandit opened his mouth—probably to put me in my place—but was cut off by the sound of a door banging loudly.

“What’s going on?” Constance demanded, hurrying over from the house with Iris. Her eyes slid to Seth, still behind me.“Put that damned gun down, now, before I take it off you and shoot your ass.”

Seth pursed his lips but obeyed.

I took in Connie’s wide-eyed look, and my heart clenched. “I got a letter from John saying he’s changed his mind. He’s going to be a Rifleman, and nobody will tell me what it means. John’s talking like it’s dangerous. He says Bandit gave him his blessing and even encouraged it. Why would he do that?”

Connie’s eyes softened. She didn’t look shocked at all by my words. Everything suddenly locked into place, and I stared at her accusingly. “You knew?”

---