Page 42 of Bloom: Part 2

I’d gotten careless, thinking I was safe, but the Agostis never forgot. They held grudges. They exacted revenge—painfully.

No one was exempt, and definitely not me.

“We have all the information you’ve given us.” Officer Roberts tucked his notebook into his pocket. “We’ll check with mall security to see if we can get any surveillance footage that might have caught the perpetrator. It’s just a pity there’s no camera here.”

“Thank you very much, Officer. I appreciate it.” I nodded at a car driving slowly toward us. While the officers had been doing their checks, I’d ordered a ride for us to get back to the clubhouse. “That’s our Uber now.”

“Get someone out to bring the car to the garage quickly,” the cop said. “We wouldn’t want it to be stolen like the other one, or your insurance company might make things difficult for you.”

“Your car was stolen?” Bloom, who had largely stayed out of the cops’ way, pushed off from the wall where he’d been leaning.

Dammit. I hadn’t told him about the theft for a reason. Bloom had one default when people did him wrong. He retaliated. He would make a better Agosti than me.

And if you marry him, he’ll technically become one.

“It’s fine, Bloom. The cops are investigating.”

He snorted. “You actually believe they’ll find anything? They haven’t a clue what they’re doing.”

“He doesn’t mean that.” I gave the two officers an apologetic smile. “Thanks again for your help today. Bloom, let’s go.”

The Uber driver wound down his window. “Logan?” he asked.

“That’s us.” I hustled Bloom forward and opened the car door for him while he bristled. Luckily, he’d finished his ice creamandmine while I chatted with the cops. I needed to make arrangements to pick up the car, but I had to get Bloom back to the clubhouse first.

The car hummed quietly as we pulled out of the parking lot, leaving the two cops staring after us. I would have loved tohear what they actually said to each other once we were out of earshot. I let out a sigh.

“Why didn’t you tell me someone stole your car?” Bloom twisted the engagement ring on his finger.

“You were in the hospital. What were you going to do? Your health was more important.”

“I could have given orders from my hospital bed. That’s how a brotherhood works, you know. The other bikers have my back, and that means they have yours.”

The driver’s eyes flickered between Bloom and me. He picked up speed. Probably worried he was transporting two dangerous criminals. One out of two wasn’t so far from the truth.

Bloom remained quiet for the rest of the ride, but he was stewing. This wouldn’t be the end of our conversation. Soon, we pulled up to the clubhouse. A few bikers were outside, lounging on the porch, smoking. They watched us until we got out of the vehicle, then lost interest. The driver drove away at breakneck speed, leaving a plume of dust that made Bloom cough. Taking his arm, I led him toward the steps.

“Where the fuck is Gunner?” He shoved the door open with more force than necessary, sending it crashing into the wall. The bang reverberated through the silent clubhouse, and a few heads turned when we entered the mess hall.

“Bloom, what are you doing?” I asked. “Will you calm down? We need to talk.”

“I’m getting your car back.”

“Can we not make a scene? I don’t care about the stupid car.”

“And that’s fine if you don’t, but I do.” He spun around to face me, the color in his cheeks high. “No one steals from my man. How do you think that reflects on me having someone steal from the enforcer’s boyfriend? That’s not how an enforcer works. Their duty is to fear me, and mine is to ensure they do!”

I’d never seen Bloom so riled up, so utterly furious. Just when I thought I was getting the hang of the biker hierarchy and how things ran, he threw me for a loop. I could afford to get a new car. The insurance would handle it. Why bother to pick a fight? None of that mattered to him, though, because of his reputation. He had an image to uphold.

Jesus. He’s just like them. Just like my family.

My brothers would have acted the same way. Honor meant the world to them. I’d always thought it ironic that criminals had an honor-based system, but they took it even more seriously than regular civilians.

“Someone yelled my name?” Gunner entered behind us, his jeans unbuttoned and resting low enough on his hips to show off curly black pubic hair. He was bare chested, though he carried a T-shirt, which he put on, but not fast enough to hide the welts on his back and torso. His neck was covered in love bites, like he’d been to bed with a succubus. Some of the bikers snickered.

“Did you know someone stole Logan’s car?” Bloom asked.

“I might have heard about it.” Gunner scratched his head.

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