Page 9 of Bounty

The footage from the surveillance cameras we installed a couple weeks ago gave us the most damning evidence. Wisteria Jean Flowers, the queen ball buster of Harvest Farms, spent the majority of her time crying. From the minute she got through the door to when she finally went to bed, she’d cry on and off. My little flower doesn’t deserve to be sad. Or alone.

She’s a shell of the woman she used to be.

Wisteria Jean was always a spitfire who went down swinging. As a child, she never accepted her punishments, arguing to the bitter end in an effort to avoid getting her hide tanned, even if it was at a gathering. She could be the cutest girl in the world, until you got on her bad side. Then she was a devil who’d make your life a living hell.

The only person more stubborn than her is Cain. That’s why I’m not surprised when he comes back to the house with her slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Not that she looks like a potato at all. Even unconscious, she’s a vision—a masterpiece of curves.

“Did you have to use chloroform on her?” I ask incredulously.

“She was running barefoot in the snow, freezing her ass off, and wasn’t listening to me, Col. She was going to hurt herself, and I didn’t wait years to get her back so she could die of hypothermia.” He rubs his face, his nervous tell, and huffs. Sitting on the couch, he places her on his lap and hugs her to his chest.

“She’s so beautiful.” I sit next to him, partially pulling her onto my lap. I inhale her scent.She still smells like wildflowers.

Her thick, blond hair fans over my shoulder, damp from the snow. Her Cupid’s bow lips are relaxed, the bottom plump and inviting. Although she’s asleep, I can see her pulse thrummingbeneath the delicate skin of her neck. I kiss it lightly, a hopeful promise for more later.

After taking her coat off, Cain wraps his arm under her breasts, a content sigh escapes him. “Fuck, she’s a woman, huh? She’s got enough tits and ass for all three of us.”

“Watch what you say. Some women are sensitive about their weight, and I don’t want our girl feeling any sort of way because you said something stupid.”

I thought the same thing. Her curves grew with her, and her hourglass frame has me drooling.

He pulls her off me and carries her to our bed, placing her in the middle. He changes her into some of his pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt, then we change into our pajamas and sandwich her between us under the blankets.

“Things will change for the better now, Cain. I feel all the pieces coming together.” I reach over Wisteria and kiss his forehead, then her’s, before settling in bed.

“I hope so. I didn’t wait for years and spend months surveilling our girl to bring her into harm’s way.”

I pull Wisteria to me until her back is flush with my front, throwing a thigh over her to get comfortable. Having her here with us—being in bed with her—brings back old memories of a time before she was forced to leave, when we could still keep her safe.

Six Years Ago, Christmas Eve

“Did y’all take care of it?” Father Mannix asks as he sits at the head of the table.

Jude passes him a beer, and they clink their bottles. “Yes, thecropswere moved out of the south warehouse, into the safehold. They should be sitting tight down there for a while until our visitors pass through.”

“And the rat?” he asks, his voice harsh and full of foreboding.

“He’s been exterminated,” I confirm. I did the job myself with a Bowey knife and my bare hands, and enjoyed watching the light leave his eyes. His sobbing and blubbering were the best part though—something about watching a man on his knees begging that does it for me, even if he is a piece of shit traitor.

“Good. No one betrays their family without consequences,” Father Mannix booms after taking a deep pull from his bottle. “You’re all becoming fine young men. You should take pride in protecting the farm. Your brothers and sisters. Our livelihood.”

“Together, forever. We thrive,” Cain recites.

“Together, forever. We thrive.” We all chorus together.

I hear a creak on the stairs, and soft footfall. We all scan the area as we hide our weapons in kitchen drawers or holsters. Father Mannix doesn’t like us having them out around the women unless we absolutely have to. I smell Wisteria's sweet wildflower scent before I see her–soft, clean, floral. She’s half awake, and a little yawn escapes her as she enters the kitchen. She startles when she sees us all at the table.

“Sorry to interrupt Father Mannix,” she apologizes. “I just wanted to get some water. I can come back later.”

Her worn, oversized red sweater falls over her shoulder, revealing her fair, mouth-watering skin. I can’t pry my eyes off her. All I want to do is fantasize about how her skin feels beneath my lips, how it tastes when I run my tongue down her neck. How pliable it will be if I sink my teeth into it. Would it break and bleed for me?

I think about her all the time–she’s part of all my waking thoughts and dreams.

“Nonsense, child, stay as long as you want,” he replies, showing his soft spot for her.

“Why are you awake so late?” Jude asks, his tone short. It seems he’s always short with her lately.

She opens the fridge, giving me a view of her ass in thin pajama pants. Fuck, no panty line. I think of how her round, luscious ass would look jiggling in my face as I devour her from behind—how good it would feel to slide my dick between her cheeks until I spill all over her lower back.

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