Page 92 of Bloom: Part 1

He wasn’t interested in poker, so I thought he would leave, but he plopped his ass onto my lap. My losing streak began. I couldn’t get up from the table either because I was rock hard from Bloom’s ass rubbing against me.

“I’m making you lose,” Bloom said. “I’ve never been good luck for anyone.”

“That’s not the reason I’m losing,” I whispered. I tilted my hips so he could feel the bulge. His miserable look converted into a grin.

“What’s that, Doc?” Gunner took a card from the deck. “You can’t win a game anymore? Whatever you’re doing over there, Bloom, keep doing it.”

“Me? I ain’t doing anything.” Yet he bounced on my lap. Everyone laughed while I sweated.

“I’m going to make you regret that tonight.”

“Hey, what happened to Winter?” Grimm asked around the fat cigar in his mouth. “Haven’t seen him around in a while. He back in Riverton?”

The room fell silent. Bloom went rigid against me, and not the way I liked. Bikers shifted uncomfortably in their seats while some looked away.

“What?” Grimm looked bewildered.

“Win’s in rehab,” Crowe replied, but from his clipped tone, there was a lot more to it, and he didn’t want to get into it.

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” James asked. “I hope he makes a quick recovery.”

“Heard he sold his ass for some coke.” Tango laughed. “Got a lot more than he—”

Bloom was off my lap before I could blink. His fist connected with Tango’s face with a resounding smack that sent the man sprawling to the floor. “You—”

Bloom didn’t give him a chance to talk but straddled Tango, hammering his fists into him. Smack. Smack. Every punchlanded like a thunderclap until blood splattered the floor, Bloom’s knuckles, and Tango’s battered face.

Wasn’t anyone going to intervene?

As if he heard me, Grimm took a step toward them.

“Leave him,” Crowe barked.

Grimm halted, glancing back toward Crowe, who was glaring at the scene. Grimm didn’t push further, but he didn’t look pleased.

Bloom continued to lay into Tango, his swings growing wilder and less precise as fury took over. Tango could do nothing to defend himself, his cries and grunts of pain filling the room. He gasped for air under the relentless blows, a thin wheeze escaping as Bloom's fist slammed once again into his stomach.

Bloom pulled a long knife out of his boot. I catapulted out of my chair. Tango moved his head, and the tip of the knife plunged into the floor.

“This is bullshit, Crowe!” Grimm cried. “You’re just going to let him kill him right here in front of everyone.”

“If he doesn’t, I will.”

When Bloom raised his arm, I grabbed it. “Then you fucking do it, but don’t put this on him.”

“Did anyone hear me tell him to attack Tango?” Crowe snarled, jumping to his feet. “I’ll crush his goddamn fucking skull anyway for that bullshit he just said.”

Bloom was shaking, his breathing ragged and his eyes glowing with a savage light. His grip on the knife was tight, and his arm was coiled like a spring about to snap. Only my hold on him prevented him from going after Tango’s neck a second time, and something told me he wouldn’t miss.

“Bloom,” I said softly. “Listen to me. It’s not worth it.”

He opened his mouth as if wanting to speak, but nothing but a grunt came out. His face had gone red, and sweat trickled down his temples.

With all my strength, I hauled Bloom off Tango, even as he fought me to finish the job. It took every ounce of energy I had. Normally, he was easy to lift, but his anger made him a force of nature.

Thrashing and kicking, he tried to wriggle from my grasp, whimpering and babbling inaudibly. “Shh. It’s okay. I got you.”

A gun went off, and I jerked. I stared in disbelief at the man whose bruised and bloodied body relaxed into death. Crowe stood over him, his face set in a hard line, jaw clenched, and shoulders rigid.

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