Page 102 of Bloom: Part 1

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I froze, my heart pounding as the barrel pressed into the small of my back.

“Just going for a walk,” I said, trying to inject casualness into my voice.

“Don’t take me for a fool,” the man behind me growled. “Raise your hands and turn around… slowly.”

With slow movements, I did as he instructed. This masked man was bigger than the last one. No way I could take him one on one.

“You don’t look like a cop,” he said.

“I’m not. I just got lost.”

“I bet you did. Get in there. Two Fingers will know what to do with you.”

He pushed the door open and shoved me inside. Great. Now another gun was pointed at me.

“No!” Logan cried. Our eyes locked, and the panic in them was oddly reassuring. He loved me, didn’t he? I grinned.

“What are you smiling about?” the man I figured was Two Fingers asked. “This is a restricted area. Who the hell are you?”

Wasn’t that the million-dollar question?

“I’m the one who’s going to send you home in a body bag.”

The man guffawed, showing yellowed teeth. “Oh, really now? You and what army?”

“Me and the dozens of dead people living in my head, bitch. You mean you can’t see them?”

“Leave him alone,” Logan snapped. “If you touch him, you can kiss your boss’s life good-bye.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“You best believe I’ll do it too. Try me.”

The man sized me up and did the same to Logan. He hitched his chin toward the far corner of the room. “I see. This the doctor’s little slut? You got good taste. Can’t fault a man for protecting his property. Stay over there and don’t make trouble. Don’t think your looks will save you.”

“Go on,” Logan said. “Do as he says. No one’s going to hurt you as long as I am here.”

Stunned, I stood rooted to the spot. Didn’t he know I was here for him? Yet he was trying to comfort me. I’d never been prouder to have him as my man.

I have to get him out of here, no matter the consequences. As long as he’s alive.

The gunman nudged me in the back with his gun. “Move. You listen to the doctor’s orders, and I may let you all walk out of here alive.”

28

LOGAN

Bloom was quiet—way too quiet in his corner, which made me nervous as I checked the patient’s vitals one more time, urging him wordlessly to stay alive. I’d done as much as I could to repair his internal organs, but the bullets had done extensive damage to his lungs and abdomen. His shallow breaths drowned out the faint hum of the machines. His pulse was weak and unsteady under my gloved fingertips.

How long before they realized we were having trouble stabilizing the patient? My team members understood well enough what we were up against. Through years of working together, we didn’t need to communicate out loud for everyone to know the situation was serious. The stability we’d assured Two Fingers of wasn’t entirely true but had to deceive him. The lives of my team members depended on it.

And Bloom’s.

Why had he come? He could have escaped instead of putting himself in the mix of things.

At last, I caught Bloom’s gaze. His eyes glimmered with determination. He was up to something. I gave a tiny shakeof my head to tell him to give up whatever idea he had. They outnumbered us. Even if by some stroke of luck we escaped without being shot, more of them were outside the OR. The most we could hope for was for the authorities to take control of the situation quickly. A hospital was sacred ground. We took care of the good and the bad alike. Such a monstrous act could have only been carried out by the worst scums.

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