Page 17 of Bounty

She stops walking, her posture rigid as she finally makes eye contact with me. “Why am I here, Jude? You made it perfectlyclear that I mean nothing to you. I’m the weed you ripped out of the garden. Why not just let me wilt?”

Hearing my own words hurled back at me shouldn’t hurt so badly. It’s as if my own heart is being ripped out of my chest. I crack my neck, dispelling the unfamiliar feeling. I’m not going to let this woman weasel her way into my heart again.

Her brows and mouth slash downward, and her eyes are blazing violet orbs of fury. She’sdistraught. My note must have wrecked her.

“Because it’s the season for family and good cheer, Wisteria. Merry Christmas and welcome home. I’ll tell you everything in good time, but first the four of us will eat dinner here. Get reacquainted with each other.”

“I would rather know before I settle in, in case I don’t end up staying,” she grouses.

Wisteria thinks she can leave? She has no clue what she’s in for…yet. We make our way to the cabin, and her face lights up in recognition. She remembers the lake. How the four of us would go swimming here. How we all sat in the sand and ate lunch out of a cooler we packed.

How I’d follow her here when she’d sneak out late at night and sit with her, most of the time in silence, enjoying the moon shining off the water.

“There’s a house on the lake now…” she said, half question, half statement.

“Yes. It’s where the three of us live. You’ll stay here,” I responded.

“The guest room has a really nice view of the lake, little flower. Much better than the view from your old room in Father Mannix’s house,” Colin said in an effort to make her smile.

Wisteria stays quiet, assessing the house and the surrounding trees. Her gaze focuses on the lake’s waves crashing into the shore.

“I’m not agreeing to stay here,” she insisted. “I’m here to find out what the fuck is going on. Why have you two–” she gestured toward Colin and Cain’s direction, “Been following me. Why am I allowed back here after being labeled a traitor and given a death threat. Does your father even know I’m here?”

“You’ll be staying here until further notice,” I correct her. “If the bomb threat didn’t make it obvious, you’re not safe anymore. Come in and eat, and you’ll get answers to all your questions,” I assured her.

Opening the door, I ushered her in with my hand on the small of her back. Even through layers of clothes, I could feel the heat of her skin and hear the hitch of her breath. She can hate me all she wants, but she is just as affected by me as I unfortunately am by her.

The moment she walks into the cabin, it feels like a chess piece finding its place on the board. Now all I have to do is move that piece to the perfect place so I win the game.

And I always win.

Chapter Eight

WISTERIA

I hate to say it, but Jude’s home is perfect. It’s a lodge built from rustic wood that looks like something you’d see on one of those home-buying reality TV shows. The decor, unlike the man himself, is cozy, with throw blankets, a huge fireplace, brass fixtures, and warm colors. Just like all the dream homes I scrapbooked in the magazines my momma, aunt, and I read together when I was growing up.

“One day, girlie, we’ll have a kitchen just like this one,” she said, cutting out the picture of the giant kitchen island with the marble counters. The gray, white, and black swirled together, with little gold flecks.

I shake the memory away, reminding myself to keep my wits about me. These men abandoned me, didn’t contact me for years, almost got me blown to bits, and think they can force me to stay here.

The only reason I set foot in this house was to find out what’s going on. If they won’t give me answers, they better be ready to lock me up—I’m not staying here unless they tell me everything.

Jude walks me through the front, all the way to the kitchen. It’s the most gorgeous room in his home so far. It has a chic farm-house vibe, with all white cabinets, pendant lighting, adouble oven and eight burner stove, and a giant island in the center set with several dishes of food. Roasted chicken with root vegetables. String beans. Buttery biscuits. A fancy salad, even a lasagna.

I doubt Jude made any of this. He probably has a housekeeper like his father did when we were growing up.

The eat-in dining room is set for four and we serve ourselves before taking a seat. Jude sits across from me, and his proximity makes me feel trapped. Every time I look up, I see him staring back at me with the same cold, empty eyes he had six years ago. Honestly, being with the three of them again makes me feel sick to my stomach. I have no solitude to eat because I can’t stop thinking about why I’m here.

What could have possibly changed to make me welcomed here again, after clearly being told I was never allowed back?

“Are you feeling okay?” Colin asks me.

“Yeah, you barely touched your food,” Cain adds, gesturing toward my full plate.

Are they fucking serious right now?Do they think we can all just sit here and play house after what’s happened?

“No, I’mnotokay. My aunt died, and since she was my only family, I’m alone. I got fired from my job before Cain abducted me. I’m being forced to sit at a table with three men who acted like I didn’t exist for the past six years for some mysterious reason they won’t share. You forced me back to a place I was excommunicated from. And I almost got blown up—almostdied.”

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