Page 145 of Bloom: Part 2

I raised the gun in my hand, my vision narrowing until all I saw was the man who had been like a father to me. Still staring at Bloom’s beauty. Still coveting Bloom. Coveting him so much he hadn’t thought twice about shooting the man he was supposed to love.

My finger tightened on the trigger, and the shot rang out.

The room went still. Bloom flinched, his wide eyes snapping to me as Uncle Mickey’s body jerked, then slumped lifelessly to the floor.

For a moment, the only sound was the echo of the gunshot fading into silence. Bloom opened his mouth, his lips moved, but no words came out.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he finally said, his voice low and trembling. “I was supposed to handle it.”

“And now you don’t have to.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you—”

“He called you beautiful,” I muttered, the words slipping out like a confession.

Seconds stretched into an eternity. The silence hung heavy, pressing down on me, but then Bloom’s lips twitched. A sound bubbled from his chest—a laugh. It started as a soft chuckle but quickly grew into a full-bodied, infectious laugh that shook his shoulders.

“Ah, Logan, you’re unbelievable,” he said between breaths. He cupped the back of my head. His lips crashed into mine, and the world around us fell away. Our mouths moved greedily against each other’s. The taste of him was just as intoxicating as all the other times I’d had him.

“Can’t believe you killed for me,” Bloom muttered against my lips. “And for such a silly reason.”

“Not silly to me.” My hands found his waist, pulling him closer as I lost myself in the feel of him. “I was so worried I would lose you, Bloom. I never want to feel that way again. When I couldn’t find you—”

“It doesn’t matter now.” He nibbled on my bottom lip. “You’re free, Logan. We don’t have to run anymore.”

Groaning, I pressed my lips hard to his once more, then rested my forehead against his. “That reminds me, Crowe knows.”

“Huh?”

“He knows we were gonna leave, and he’s pissed off about it. Just a heads-up. We already had our little row when he punched me in the stomach.”

“Crowe punched you?” Bloom frowned.

“Yeah, but don’t be too hard on him about it. We already knew he would be upset. And then there’s Max…”

Bloom gasped. “Max…is he…?”

“He was still alive when I last spoke to Crowe. I’m not sure what’s happened since.”

“Shit.”

“We should go. Clean up a little, then head to the hospital.”

“Let’s go.”

I grabbed his wrist. “What about the bodies?”

“Don’t worry about it. A crew will take care of them.”

“I see.” Not very different from how my father handled his bodies. I should have felt more concerned. “Let’s go, then.”

44

BLOOM

Ihated hospitals. Hated the smell of disinfectant. Hated the way the doctors and nurses worked without emotions. Hated being treated like the extent of injuries. A broken arm. A gunshot wound to the chest. An eating disorder. Every ailment had a cold label, and as a carefree biker, I hated those labels.

The sharp scent of disinfectant stung my nose, and the lights above buzzed like angry bees, making the world seem too bright, like none of this was real after the hell of the past few hours.

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