Page 28 of Bounty

I fiddle with the charms on my bracelet, trying to think of what could possibly be valuable enough to kill me for. The clanking of the metal pieces together don’t soothe or focus me like they normally do.

“Um…we lived paycheck to paycheck. Some weeks we barely had enough money for groceries. I have no clue what she could possibly have,” I respond.

They seem disappointed by the answer, but don’t express it.

“While you’re here, you can’t leave the farm until this threat is neutralized. I also want you guarded by one of us at all times,” Jude said. Colin and Cain nodded along.

“I understand not leaving—that’s smart. But why can’t I have free reign of the farm?”

“The Kings came through a secret perimeter gate that had a key code entry. I checked, and the lock wasn’t tampered with. That means someone let them inside, or gave them the code...” Cain rolled his lips between his teeth as Colin recounted his investigation.

“So they have a mole on the inside somewhere,” I finish his thoughts.

“Yes. The matter of your excommunication is an issue, too. After Jude announces your return, there may be some bad blood. You and Norma left on bad terms,” Cain’s voice is hesitant.

“I don’t think anyone would hurt you, thistle, but at tonight’s emergency gathering I’m going to announce your return. Make sure the community knows you had nothing to do with your mom and aunt’s actions, and that I expect them to treat you well,” Jude assures me.

The community at Harvest Farms is very hippie–everyone loves everyone, helps their fellow brothers and sisters, and goes to weekly gatherings. But if you are branded a traitor, or made a serious transgression, you are treated like a social pariah. I was so wrapped up in these three men that I never even thought about how everyone would take my return.

I don’t like putting my trust in Jude, especially given our toxic past, but he said he'd be different. The only way I’ll know if he’ll change is to wait and see.

Chapter Twelve

CAIN

After dinner, I spent the day clothes shopping for Wisteria Jean so she would be ready for tonight. Armed with just her measurements, I bought enough things to hold her over for a couple weeks—even got underthings, stockings, socks, and tons of shoes. I put everything in her closet, where we now stood, arguing. Because it wouldn’t be a complete day with Wisteria Jean Flowers if her stubborn ass didn’t argue with at least two of us.

“Cain, I can’t accept these! They’re way too expensive, and I can’t afford them.”

“Baby girl, we bought them for you. You don’t have to pay us back,” I say for the second time.

“I’m not a charity case!” she shouts.

I pull a beautiful sapphire blue dress from the closet that I picked myself. It’s knee length, with billowy sleeves and a modest neckline, that still makes her rack look amazing. The personal shopper even told me how tasteful it is.

“Wisteria, you don’t have anything appropriate for the gatherings, and wewantto do this for you. We want you to have nice things because you deserve them. Think of it as apayback for how shitty we were toward you when you were excommunicated.”

Her face goes from annoyed to downright furious, with dipped brows and her eyes as bright as a bonfire.

“Do you think I’m a fucking sugar baby? That you can just pay me off with expensive things so you don’t have to feel guilty for being an asshole?”

For fuck’s sake, that was the wrong thing to say.

“Well Christ, baby girl, things will go to hell in a handbasket if you think shit like that. Give the hamster wheel in your brain a break. You need clothes, we got you clothes.It’s that simple.”

She crosses her arms, the way she used to when we were kids. “I am not wearing a single thing from that closet?—“

“Just wear the damn dress and stop acting like a crazy woman! We have to be there in an hour!” I shout, losing my patience with her.

I’d say Wisteria is as stubborn as a mule, but she makes mules want to come to the bargaining table.

We argue, yelling at each other until she starts laughing like a lunatic.

“What’s going on? I can hear you two hollering from downstairs,” Colin asks as he stands in the doorway. “We have to meet Jude in an hour.”

“She won’t wear anything we bought her because she thinks it makes her a sugar baby—it’s ridiculous.” And it is.

“Wisteria Jean, you’re not a sugar baby or a gold digger or any variation because we bought you clothes after we practically abducted you from your home,” Colin explains to her, in his calm tone.

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