Page 121 of Bloom: Part 2

Uncle Mickey weaved through the crowd toward us, his sharp suit and commanding presence cutting a distinct figure against the leather-clad bikers. Emil trailed behind him, looking slightly less composed but equally out of place. It was strange seeing them here, in this world. In Smoky Vale.

“Logan.” My uncle’s voice carried over the din, and he clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Quite the gathering you’ve got here.”

“It’s a good group,” I said, my tone relaxed, but my muscles still tense. “Bloom’s family. Now mine as well.”

“We meet again.” Uncle extended his hand toward Bloom, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s nice to see you again without a gun pointing at my head.”

I gave Bloom a reassuring nod, and he shook my uncle’s hand quickly. “You wouldn’t have a gun pointed at your head if you hadn’t kidnapped my man.”

Silence followed Bloom’s declaration, and I held my breath. My uncle wasn’t someone to suffer fools lightly, and he could easily take Bloom’s words as an insult. I’d seen a man lose a finger for doing exactly that.

Uncle threw his head back and laughed—one of those genuine sounds from the pit of his belly. He leaned forward and spoke in a hushed tone. “It’s a pity I won’t have the pleasure of spending more time with your fiancé. He seems like such a delight.”

“I am not a fucking delight.” Bloom scowled. “Do you understand I would have killed you right there if you had hurt Logan?”

“Enough of this kind of talk,” I said.

“It’s okay, Keegan. I appreciate his fire. He would have made an excellent soldier.”

“Why would I want to be a solider?”

I squeezed Bloom’s side, my gaze landing on Crowe, who had stood from the table where he’d been sitting with Grimm. “He’s talking about the Mafia.”

“Being a biker is better.” Bloom stuck his nose up in the air.

Brat.

I chuckled. “And I like you being a biker. Bloom, I need to speak with Crowe for a minute. Would you be so kind as to introduce my uncle to everyone?”

“You sure?”

I stroked his arm. “You’ll be fine.” I touched my lips to his.

“Keegan.” Uncle’s hand on my arm stopped me. “Those papers you need, I have them in the car. I’ll give them to you a little later.”

“Sure thing, Uncle Mickey, thanks.”

As I walked away, I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. I had no intention of using his tickets or identification documents. Maybe I was being paranoid, but over a decade had passed since I was with my family. They were practically strangers, and I wouldn’t entrust my and Bloom’s safety to strangers.

“Crowe!” I called, weaving through the room as politely as I could manage without slowing down. He paused midstride, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Nice party,” he said, his voice gruff but warm. “Must have cost a small fortune for you to get this level of catering last minute. At least I won’t have to worry about Bloom. Looks like he’ll be well looked after.”

I stopped before him, catching my breath. “You’ll never have to worry about him. I’ll always take care of Bloom. No matter what he does or what happens. He’ll never be left behind. Not by me. You can count on that.”

“Well, you don’t have to try so hard to reassure me,” Crowe huffed out a laugh. “If I even get a whiff that you’re not treating him right, I won’t be far to whip you back into shape.”

No, you won’t.

Just how much would he hate my guts after I disappeared with Bloom? Hopefully, he remembered the words I said tonight and knew wherever we were, Bloom would be taken care of.

“Actually, there’s something else I wanted to ask you about.”

“What is it?”

I glanced around me to check no one was in hearing distance, then leaned in. “You mentioned that when you found Bloom, he was in rough shape. I knew he was beaten, drowned, and starved, but was he ever…”

Crowe’s steely eyes met mine, all the humor gone. “Was he ever…what?”

---