Bounty

6. Cain

Chapter Six

CAIN

“How is she? Colin said you took her by force.” Jude’s voice is gruff and foreboding over the call.

He isn’t happy that I used chloroform to get her to comply, but he wasn’t there. He didn’t see the fear in her eyes or watch her bolt through the snow and wind, winding through the trees in her bare feet.

I sip my coffee. “She had to be subdued so she didn’t hurt herself,” is all I say in reply.

All Wisteria has done recently is hurt herself. She’s still just as beautiful as she was six years ago, but the dark circles under her eyes and the way she goes through the motions are evidence enough that she isn’t taking care of herself. She’s struggling—her job, the stress of having to make ends meet on her own, and her loneliness are all taking a toll on her.

“Does she understand why her circumstances have changed?”

“No, just that they have,” I pour myself another cup.

“Okay. For now keep it that way. We can explain an abridged version to her when she’s home, as a group.”

“We’re having an early dinner, then leaving.”

“I want her at the compound for Christmas tomorrow,” he reminds me.

“Trust me, Colin and I want her there just as badly. Together foreve r,” I recite in an effort to end the conversation early.

“ We thrive ,” he finishes before ending the call.

I truly hope that with Wisteria Jean in our lives again, we can truly thrive. Letting her leave was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. With the lifestyle I lead, that’s saying something. She took a piece of my heart with her, and I haven’t been whole since.

I spoon some sugar into another coffee, then add some cream, just like she took it back on the farm. The third cup for Colin is black. I bring the mugs to our room, wedging my foot in the cracked door and letting myself in.

Wisteria Jean is already awake, watching Colin sleep. I’m not sure if she’s admiring him, or thinking of ways to end his life. She’s too smart for her own good, so I’m sure she can come up with some creative ways to get the job done.

“I got you a cup of coffee, baby girl.”

Those violet stunners swing to me, and I get an even harsher glare. She sits up with her back against the headboard. I sit on the edge of the bed, putting the other mugs down on the bedside table before giving her her mug. She sips it slowly, as if trying to suss out if it’s poisoned.

“Cream and sugar,” she comments with a hint of surprise.

“I remember how you take it. I can’t forget anything about you, baby girl.” I hope she picks up on the double meaning.

“Except how to reply to your baby girl’s letters,” she barbs, pricking me deep enough to bleed. I hated ignoring her, but it was for the best.

“It wasn’t like that. Colin and I have a lot to tell you over dinner.”

Jude can seriously fuck off. I won’t tell her everything, but I won’t let her continue thinking I threw her away like a foul piece of garbage.

“Save your breath. I thought about it, and I’m not going back. My life is here in New York. There’s nothing and no one for me back at the farm.”

Jude, Colin, and I are at the farm. Her whole family is. I know she’s hurt, and she has every right to be, but her words still cut me. She gets out of bed, and makes it all the way to the bedroom door. Her frustrated sigh as she jiggles the locked handle is adorable.

“Try to run, but you won’t make it far. All the doors and windows are locked. If you do manage to escape, Colin and I will chase you and tie you up. Chloroform is only one drug in my arsenal.”

“You’d seriously drug me?” she asks indignantly.

“I’d hogtie you if it kept you in one place,” I deadpan. “You’re coming home whether you want to or not.”

“We only want what’s best for you. There’s so much we need to tell you,” Colin says calmly around a yawn. He was always better with her. Way more gentle.

He stretches his arms over his head, his back arching off the bed. My eye is drawn to how his Adonis belt peeks over his pajama bottoms. Wisteria’s eyes are drawn to it too, and flashes of memories run wild in my mind.

Nights in the woods, the three of us laying under the moon on a picnic blanket as we watched the stars. The way Wisteria would alternate between kissing Colin and me. Taking turns licking her sweet little pussy as her moans echoed through the trees. How we worked together to make her come. How she would gasp when Col and I pleasured each other.

I love Col, always have. But I love Wisteria, too—she completes us, belongs with us. And with Jude too if he ever wises up enough to claim her.

She deserves so much more than living alone in a crumbling shack. Or a dead end job and a car one steep hill away from the scrap yard. She deserves the world, and we’ll give it to her or die trying.

It’s already noon, and we can’t stay much longer. The drive to West Virginia from here is nine hours, if we make good time in traffic. Colin is at her house packing her bag while he looks for anything of consequence one last time. Jude gave us an idea of what to look for, but so far, nothing fits the bill. Every time one of us checked her house while she was at work, we came up empty handed.

Wisteria is locked in our bedroom, of her own doing. She wanted to be alone, and Colin said to respect that. The solitude she came to know in upstate New York will become a distant memory once we bring her back home, because she’ll never be alone again.

I work quickly preparing meatballs and spaghetti with a tomato sauce from scratch, one of her favorites. When we were kids, Wisteria, Col, and I would bring our plates out to the picnic tables and eat together. I’d call them our pasta dates. The two of us were enamored by her, listening to her talk a mile a minute about everything and anything.

Once Colin comes back with her bag, it becomes clear that this isn’t a rebirth of our pasta dates. We eat in a terse silence, looking at each other before glancing away. It’s odd. I know who she is, but not really. The woman sitting across from me is not the same Wisteria Jean. She’s older, wiser. More jaded by the harsh realities of life off the farm.

I guess she can say the same thing about us. We aren’t the boys she grew up with. We’re the dangerous, vile men they became, for better or worse.

“Wisteria, we have some things to tell you,” Colin starts. I let him lead the conversation, because although it pains me to say it, he’s Wisteria’s favorite. She’ll be more receptive to him.

“My name is Willa Jean. Please don’t call me Wisteria, or little flower, or baby girl. You have no right to and no claim to me. Not anymore.” Her lush lips are set in a tense line on her mouth.

“Says you. You’ll always be my baby girl, whether you want to be or not. Don’t argue with us, Willa Jean ,” I grouse. I hate her new name. “Do yourself a favor and listen. There’s some important shit you need to know.”

“Your aunt wasn’t who she said she was,” Colin says, leading her right into the thick of it. “She was a plant-–”

A loud explosion rips through the house, and the ground quakes beneath us. I hear the tacky, decorative plates on the wall shatter against the tile floor and a feminine scream. The table is on its side, food splattered everywhere. Dust floats down from the ceiling and the lights in this piece of shit house are out. Wisteria is flat on her ass, her hair everywhere, confused as to what’s going on. I pull her to me and perform a cursory check for injuries. She’s not bleeding, and she’s able to move.

“Come on Wisteria, we’re moving,” I yell as I shove her behind me. “Colin, let’s go.”

He’s already up, packing our weapons that we stored in the closet. “Her bag is in the car. I say we come out of the garage guns blazing.”

He throws me a semi-automatic as I think about our next move.

“We’re gonna have to,” I concede, even though I hate the lack of coverage we’ll have that way. “The car is trapped in the garage.”

“What the fuck is going on?!” Wisteria screams. Her ears are probably ringing from the explosion.

“Watch your language,” I snap. “We have to get out of here alive, then I’ll explain.”

We move through the house, Wisteria sandwiched between us, careful not to trip over fragments of furniture. It seems the assailants used localized bombs that mostly impacted the front of the house and our bedroom, which were completely ruined. The curtains are on fire, and everything is destroyed.

Had I started dinner an hour later, Wisteria would be in there…with the door locked. Possibly too hurt to let us in. Or she could have died.

I see a metallic flash up ahead and the unmistakable outline of a male shooter near the garage door. Immediately, I shoot, causing his head to burst like a watermelon. Another shot pops off, and a second male shooter drops to the ground. How did they bypass our security?

“This is a coordinated attack,” Colin whispers, just as we reach the garage door. “They know this is our only exit and there’s more of them waiting in there for us…”

“Shit,” I huff.

“Do you have the car keys?” Wisteria whispers, her voice shaky.

“You’re not getting behind the wheel.” I’ve seen her driving this week—it’s a shit show—and she’s had two glasses of wine.

“Obviously, asshole. I’m suggesting we set the car alarm off. It could distract them enough to give us the upper hand.”

Colin and I lock eyes, a silent conversation passing between us. She has a point. They caught us off guard, but a loud, unexpected noise may be enough to pick a few of them off. I hand her the keys, then show her what button to press to set off the alarm.

“On the count of three, you’re going to set off the alarm. Cain and I are going to bust through the door right after and we’ll call for you when it’s clear,” Colin explains.

She nods, looking to me for the signal.

“One…two… three !”

The alarm blares through the tiny space, growing louder after I kick in the door. I count four attackers initially, and we make quick work of dropping them. A fifth shooter comes out from behind the shelving unit at the far corner, but Colin manages to pick him off before he can aim his weapon.

“Wisteria!” I shout. She runs to the back seat, throwing herself in. Colin gets in the driver seat while I ride shotgun. We’re equal shots, but he’s by far the more creative driver.

We peel out of the garage door, and are greeted by two more shooters. They’ve all been dressed in head-to-toe black, some with ski masks and none of them have any visible tattoos showing, making it hard to link them to any particular group. They could be affiliated with anyone. I shoot both of them in the kneecaps.

Wisteria is oddly quiet in the back seat, spaced out as she stares out the window. She isn’t even blinking an eye at the deaths she witnessed at our hands.

Once we leave the one-way street she lived on and make it to the highway, Colin slows down.

“Who were they?” Wisteria asks. Her arms are crossed in front of her, her head still tilted toward the window.

Neither of us say anything just yet, mulling over what we can say that won’t make her ask more questions. Jude wanted us to tell her together.

“Don’t ignore my question!” she demands. She turns toward me, her bright violet eyes reflected through the rearview mirror.

I take a bottle of water out of the glovebox, then mix in a sedative from the emergency backpack I keep in the front passenger seat.

“Drink up, it’s important to stay hydrated,” I suggest, handing it to her.

She gulps down half the bottle, most likely because she’s stressed.

Wisteria starts to blink, then she yawns. “ Tell me… ” she breathes.

“Those are some dangerous people, my little flower,” Colin assures her in a gentle voice. He scowls at me, very aware of what I’ve done. “They’re part of the reason you’re coming home, where you’ll be safe.”

Tough shit, bro , my returning scowl says. I don’t want her to have a breakdown in the car. She’s been through enough and the next couple of days will send her life into a tailspin. This is the least I can do for her.

Wisteria falls asleep, her face squished against the glass. Soon, we’ll be home, the place where it all started.

Together, forever. We thrive.