Page 33 of Sinner's Salvation

For the rest of the discussion, Bloom is a babbling mess. When it’s my turn, I discuss tackling unemployment, providing job opportunities, and better school funding.

“Together we can and will build a better future,” I conclude with my well-known slogan.

I leave the studio like the winner I am.

Back at the compound, the guys and I have a meeting deep in discussion when Rowan storms in.

“There’s been a fire at Bloom’s house. He’s dead.”

A pensive expression crosses Hayden’s face. “At least we know whoever is behind the attacks will dispose of their own people if needed.”

The news runs rampant with speculation about Bloom’s tragic passing. Whoever is behind this is not stupid and pretty determined to end me.

Let them fucking try.

I leave the compound and head back to my office. My team and I devise a plan to take the heat off me. The first step is to offer a statement to express my deepest condolences.

The media and a small crowd have gathered in front of the building.

“Did you have something to do with this?” someone yells.

“Now, why would I dirty my hands like that?”

Amateurs. I message one of my men to bring whoever asked that to the compound.

I finish the interview and return to my office.

All these little fires are starting to burn at my ass.

As I pour myself a drink, Lauren steps inside, gesturing for our FBI contacts to enter.

“We have a problem,” Eric says. “We found a threatening email you apparently sent to Bloom. It says exactly what was going to happen today.”

“So, you’re here to insult my intelligence.”

His partner, Sandra, presses her lips together, and I nod at her.

“Too much attention can draw eyes on you.” This has gone from ridiculous to obnoxious.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll fix it.”

“Your methods are questionable,” he insists.

“Let’s not talk about questionable methods.”

Eric cocks his head and says, “This time, we want the head of whoever is behind this... alive.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“It’s not up for negotiation.”

I stand up and round my desk, leaning toward him. “Leave. Now. And think before making demands to someone who can replace you with a flick of his finger.” I jerk my chin toward the door. When I’m alone, my phone rings, and I accept the call.

“We brought him to the compound,” one of my men says.

“Good. I’ll be there shortly.”

My speech is all over the news. There is no trace of the question the man in the crowd yelled out.

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