Page 22 of Bounty

“No…” she huffs, as if she’s put out by it. My little flower was always a coy cat who could be persuaded with dick.

“Good, because if you ever say that to me again, you won’t enjoy the result.”

My bratty little flower peers over her shoulder at me with a mischievous smile on her face. A smile I waited years to see again. I bet she’s already thinking of ways to push my buttons so she can see just how bad the punishment is.

If I have it my way, I’ll see that smile every day for the rest of my life.

Chapter Ten

JUDE

“Tonight, I want you all to celebrate the bond of unity, family, and bounty,” I say as I close out my Christmas sermon. The natural acoustics of the room carry my voice so everyone at the gathering can hear it. “Our harvest these past two years surpassed the previous three years combined.”

The congregation at large thinks I’m strictly talking about the produce and livestock we manage on our gated fifty-acre compound, but those in the know are aware of the true harvest. They give meaningful looks to each other. The guns, ammunition, and other things we sell are the real money makers.

“I want to thank every one of you for your hard work and dedication to our family. Because without the love and support we get from each other, what do we really have?”

I pause, waiting for them to chime in an answer. When my father ran gatherings, he preferred silence from the crowd. He gave charged, motivating speeches that left them all awestruck. His way wasn’t wrong, but it’s not mine. I like to involve them, make them feel like a part of the community, as if they have a say.

They don’t have a say—-but letting them think they do is an important part of keeping this community thriving.

“Nothing,” several brothers and sisters say in unison.

“Together, forever,” I start our motto, the very creed we live by.

“We thrive!” they all rejoice. This marks the end of the gathering, a tradition I kept from my father’s ways.

I work the crowd with a carefully practiced smile on my face. Shaking hands and talking to people is tedious, but over the years, I learned how to appear approachable, even when the last thing I want to do is be around people. Where I want to be right now is in my office, with Wisteria Jean tied to the chair across my desk so she can’t walk away from me.

But duty called. The Christmas Gathering is one of the most important social events of the year. I can’t miss it. Even when all I wanted to do is spank that woman senseless for all the grief she causes me.

After she left dinner, the guys and I ate in silence until Cain exploded at me. Colin jumped to his defense, and they read me the riot act about how I treated her, both now and in the past. They made it clear that if we want her cooperation and for her to stick around afterwards, that I need to give her a reason to call this place home again—not be a complete asshole.

If anyone else dared to speak to me that way, they’d be bleeding out, running around the pig pen for their lives. Or strung up by their wrists in the drying shed. But Colin and Cain have been my best friends–my brothers–since I was a child. In all aspects of the farm, they’re my right hand men.

They’re not wrong, I do antagonize her. Because she infuriates me. I fell for her long before she became my stepsister. Then I had to sit idly by as she grew into the most beautiful, high spirited, stubborn woman to ever walk the Earth. I wanted tobreak her spirit, make her mine. Take her by the hair and bend her until she almost snapped.

I couldn’t, but Colin and Cain could. The jealousy and relief in that almost killed me. I didn’t want anyone else to have her, but I also knew that she’d eventually want someone…and Colin and Cain were the only two men I trusted her with. That I knew would respect her.

Being her protector behind closed doors was the only way I could have my prickly thistle, but that wasn’t enough. So I started picking at her. Antagonizing her. Pushing the sweet little girl everyone loved until she’d lash out at me. One time, she even slapped me. I cup my cheek, vividly remembering it like it was yesterday. The sting of her little hand, the bite of her screaming about how much she hated me. The way her lips felt on mine.

Now that I lead Harvest Farms, things can be different. My father may never get out of his coma, as his condition is touch and go. She isn’t my stepsister now–hasn’t been for a very long time. I have power and can claim her for myself.

I just have to get rid of The Skulls first.

A sickeningly pitchy voice breaks me from my thoughts.

“What a great sermon tonight, Jude,” Mandy Grant gushes. Her hand touches my bicep, even though my glacial glare is a clear sign to get away from me.

I remove her hand, and put some space between us. “As I said before, call me Father Jude, Mandy. And don’t touch me.” I barely get the last part out while still sounding somewhat nice.

Her nostrils flare, and she dons an indignant expression. The frown marring her face would look hilarious if it wasn’t directed at me.

“That’s not what you said when I was touching your cock,Father Jude,” she huffs.

“That was a lapse in judgment. It’ll never happen again.”

I mentally castigate myself for ever letting this harpy touch me. It was a one-time thing almost a year ago, something I regretted immediately afterward. She wasn’t a good fuck, and she didn’t take my mind off Wisteria Jean.

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