Page 142 of Bloom: Part 2

“But I didn’t bank on him being such an interesting toy. Imagine if I had his kind of loyalty.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bishop ground his teeth. “You have me. Have I not always been loyal to you? Even after your brother blinded me in one eye? Did I not remain by your side?”

“I can have two, can’t I?”

Bishop’s nostrils flared. “No, you fucking can’t. If you don’t want to kill him, I will.”

He raised his gun and aimed at me. A loud explosion filled the room. I braced myself for the impact. Logan’s body hit mine, his arms coming around me.

“Logan…” I whispered. Did he just throw himself between me and a bullet? “Logan!”

“It’s okay. I’m not hit.”

He wasn’t? I glanced over his shoulder. Bishop was on his knees. He lowered his head, staring at the blood pouring from the gaping wound in his chest.

“You…shot me?” he croaked.

“You left me with no choice, Bishop.”

“I did everything for you, but you never really felt the same way about me, did you?”

The older man hung his head and sighed. “This isn’t how I wanted us to end, but you pushed me. You know what I hate most of all? People disobeying me. How can I trust you if you don’t listen to me and follow my orders?”

Logan placed his finger on his lips and fingered the ropes that bound my arms, working quickly to untie the knots. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out the murmured exchange between his uncle and Bishop. The ropes fell away, leaving a burning sensation in their wake, but I ignored the aching tinglesin my wrists. I was too focused on Logan’s uncle in case he noticed what we were doing.

“Then finish the job,” Bishop wheezed. “Can you kill the man who’s been by your side for over two decades?”

Mickey’s hand jerked on the gun, but he didn’t fire the fatal shot he seemed so sure of earlier. He turned his head. Shit. We were made.

“Logan, run!” I cried.

My legs were still tied together, but if one of us had the chance to make it out, he should. Logan charged at his uncle at the same time Mickey swung the gun around. Logan crashed into Mickey. A gunshot reverberated through the warehouse, making my heart leap into my throat. Their bodies collided and fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Blood sprayed, but I couldn’t tell whose it was—Logan’s or Mickey’s. My stomach lurched as dread clawed its way through me.

“Logan!” I screamed his name.

I scrambled to untie the ropes around my ankles, my fingers fumbling in my haste. Every second felt like an eternity. The rough fibers burned my skin as I yanked at the knots, finally freeing myself. I pushed myself up on stiff and unsteady legs. Where was Bishop’s gun? It lay on the ground a few feet from me, glinting menacingly under the dim light.

Without hesitation, I lunged for it and closed my fingers around the cold metal. Turning, I aimed at Bishop, his body twitching as he clutched his bleeding chest. My hands steadied as I squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed, and Bishop’s body went still.

“Drop the gun, Mickey!” I shouted, my voice cold and commanding. I aimed but couldn’t get a clean shot, and I didn’t want to accidentally hit Logan.

The two men froze. For a moment, Mickey seemed as if he wasn’t willing to relent, but then he caught sight of Bishop’scrumpled body, and a sound of distress left him. His fingers slackened, and the gun clattered onto the ground. Logan groaned, pushing himself up. Blood ran down his arm, staining his sleeve a deep crimson. He picked up the gun and stepped away from his uncle.

“Logan, are you okay?” I rushed to his side, hovering my hands over him, unsure where to touch. “Were you shot?”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” he muttered, but he winced as he pulled his hand away to inspect the damage. “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t convinced. Anger surged, hot and unrelenting. I turned my attention back to Mickey. My finger twitched on the trigger, the urge to end him bubbling to the surface.

“Bloom, don’t,” Logan said, his voice firm despite the pain lacing it. He placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me. “He’s unarmed. It’s over.”

“It’s not over until he’s dead. He has to pay.”

I gulped deep breaths. The gun wavered, but then I tightened my hand on the handle.

“Not yet.” Logan took a step forward, his attention on Mickey, but all I saw was the blood dripping from his fingertips and pooling on the ground. His blood. Being wasted because of that asshole. The urge to kneel and catch the pooling blood onto my tongue was strong, but I fought it to keep an eye on Mickey. I didn’t trust the asshole, even though he was unarmed.

“Why?” Logan asked. “Why would you do this to me? I loved you like a father.”

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