Page 144 of Bloom: Part 2

Bloom clenched his jaw, his gaze narrowing. He swung the gun back in my uncle’s direction. “And him?”

I expelled a breath loudly. No way could I ask him to spare both their lives. And I didn’t want to either. My uncle had done too much. His obsession with taking over the family business would always be a threat to me and eventually to Emil.

“He’s all yours,” I said hoarsely.

“What do I do with him, then?” Bay jerked Emil forward.

Gritting my teeth against the pain radiating up my arm, I moved closer to my brother until I was standing directly in front of him.

“I know you hate me,” I said softly. “And I can’t say you are wrong. But trust me when I say I don’t want anything to do with the Agosti family business. You tell Father you saw me, and if he truly wants to make amends, he will leave me alone to live my life with the people I choose to be my family. Now go back to New York because the next time we see your face, I’m not sure I can convince him”—I nodded in Bloom’s direction—”to let you walk away.”

“Keegan, you’re an unfeeling bastard for turning your back on your family,” Emil spat. “Fuck you and this godforsaken town. I didn’t want to come here anyway.”

“That’s enough of you.” Bay shoved Emil toward the exit. “You okay handling everything here?”

“Just leave me a ride,” Bloom said. “And send a cleanup crew.”

Bay nodded and yelled for the bikers to head out. I swallowed against the lump in my throat. Uncle Mickey was on his knees, his gaze fixed on his dead lover. He seemed to have accepted his fate.

“Is there anything else you want to say to him?” Bloom asked. He didn’t look at me, his grip remaining firm on the gun.

My uncle looked like a broken and defeated man. Past me would have taken pity on him, but at what cost? I refused to risk Bloom’s life for compassion. Uncle Mickey admitted to wanting me dead. Letting him go would be the biggest mistake of my life.

“A few years ago, I had to change my identity again because my cover was blown and someone tried to kill me,” I said slowly. “Was that you?”

He tilted his head back. “Yes.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled sharply.

“You should wait outside,” Bloom said.

My eyes flew open. “What?”

“You don’t need to see this…this side of me.”

“I already saw this side of you. At the hospital, remember?”

“That was different. We were defending ourselves. He has no weapon. He’s already given up.”

I would never have thought of the difference in both situations. He was right. Killing Uncle Mickey now was not self-defense but an execution. A shaking sensation racked my chest, and an image ran through my mind of Marshal Livingston’s dead body.

I love him for better or worse.

“I’ll stay.”

“Logan, please—”

“I’ve made my decision, Bloom. I have to love all of you, which means this side of you as well.”

He shook his head. “But I don’t want you to look at me as if I’m a monster.”

“A beautiful monster,” Uncle Mickey whispered.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end at my uncle’s words.A beautiful monster. My chest tightened, and anunexpected heat flared in my gut. He was staring at Bloom as though in awe.

It was true, though. Bloom was beautiful. But those words had no business leaving Uncle Mickey’s mouth, not in that tone, not with the dark weight of admiration lacing them. I gritted my teeth. Bloom was mine. Mine to love. Mine, in every sense of the word.

Uncle Mickey didn’t deserve to look at him, admire him, let alone speak about him.

---