12
BLOOM
I loved my engagement ring. Couldn’t stop holding my hand out in front of me to stare at it. In fact, I’d removed all my other rings because they seemed too distracting now. The ring gleamed against my finger, dark and beautiful, and just the thing I’d never dreamed of wearing. Who wanted to marry someone broken like me? Turned out Logan did so much that he’d spent a ridiculous amount on my ring just because I fell in love with it instantly before we found out the price.
It wasn’t a typical engagement ring. This was something else entirely. Something that fit me. The band was blackened silver with tiny blood-red garnets and a subtle twist, almost like vines, wrapping around my finger. In the center was a black diamond—I didn’t even know those existed and were apparently rare, so expensive—cut low and smooth, barely catching the light.
Unless someone looked closely, they probably couldn’t tell it was an engagement ring. A promise Logan made to give me his last name. I was pretty sure there were easier ways for me to have a surname, but I preferred his method, so I wouldn’t tell him that.
I twisted my hand and wriggled my fingers so the light could catch every angle, grinning like an idiot as we made our way through the mall. I was too focused on admiring it to care if anyone noticed. This ring wasn’t flashy; it didn’t scream engagement. It was private, understated, and deeply, unmistakably mine.
“You’re going to walk into a wall if you don’t watch where you’re going.” Logan pulled me away from a chattering group of teenagers I would have walked right through.
“You’re the one who bought me something so perfect I can’t look away. It’s so pretty, and you can’t take back your promise now.”
“Who says I want to take it back? But you’d better think of a way to reward me later.”
“Hmm, you saying that wouldn’t have anything to do with the something black and lacy you picked out in the lingerie shop, would it?”
“Maybe.” He shifted the shopping bags in his hand so he could take my arm. “Now you’ve got your ring. Can I treat you to ice cream?”
“With salted caramel?”
“Sure.” He steered me toward an empty table and placed the bags on one of the chairs. “Stay right here, and I’ll get them for us.”
I waved absentmindedly, my attention back on my ring. Logan was going to marry me. The bikers would shit their pants when they found out. But Crowe… Fuck, Crowe had barely come to terms with me dating Logan. He wouldn’t like this at all. And if Dr. Simms found out… All the more reason for me to stick to my guns and not see him anymore. Though that didn’t help my case with Crowe.
Who cares? I’m getting married!
A streak of light snapped me out of my trance. I blinked, momentarily disoriented, and glanced up. A stranger stood a few feet away, snapping photos of me. Was it me? I looked behind me, but there was no one there.
“Hey, what the fuck you think you’re doing?” I yelled, rising to my feet with my hands doubled into fists. The man was tall, Logan’s height, same dark brown hair too, and built.
He lowered his camera, then snapped another photo and hurried away. I wanted to go after him and make him delete whatever footage he had of me, but I’d promised Logan I would wait for him at the table. The weirdo probably planned to sell my pictures online or jerk off to them. Gross.
Logan returned, sat across from me, and placed a cup with two scoops of ice cream on the table. “There you go. Eat up. After, I’ll take you back to the clubhouse so you can rest. You must be tired. Your body’s still not fully healed, you know.”
“I know. You tell me all the time.”
I stabbed the spoon into the cup and craned my neck to see if the weird guy was back.
“What are you looking for?” Logan asked.
“Some fucking weirdo was snapping pictures of me.”
“What?” Logan scanned the faces around us. “Who? Why?”
“I don’t know. Never seen him before.” At least the ice cream was scrumptious. So good. Just what I needed to top off my day.
“Was it a man?” Logan hadn’t touched his chocolate flavor yet. His posture was upright, his shoulders square as he continued looking around the mall.
“Yeah.” I licked the caramel drizzle from the spoon. “I yelled at him, and he disappeared.”
“I don’t like this.” Logan scrambled to his feet and picked up the shopping bags. “You can eat the rest in the car. We should get out of here.”
I was barely on my feet when Logan took my arm and led me away. He kept glancing over my shoulder as if he thought there was a chance in hell we would see the man again.
“Logan, do you know who that guy was?”
“No, I didn’t even see him.”
“But you seem tense.”
“Remember why you were in the hospital. Those criminals you killed might have relatives and accomplices. I don’t like that someone was watching you.”
I hadn’t thought of that. I hadn’t been afraid of dying before, but…I wanted to stay alive long enough to marry Logan and be his husband for a while. I walked faster.
“You really think someone’s out there to get me?”
“I don’t know. They can be after you or me. Maybe it’s just a random person who liked the way you look.”
“A perv, you mean.”
“Yeah.”
Well, fuck me. The son of a bitch. I tugged on Logan’s arm and pointed out the man watching us from the second floor as we neared the exit. He still had his camera out, snapping away—still aimed at me—us. “That’s him right there on the second floor next to those massage chairs.”
Logan locked onto the figure immediately. His brows drew together, and his grip on my arm tightened. “Fuck.”
“You know him?” I asked.
“Let’s go quickly.”
Why didn’t he answer me? Saving my breath, I ran a little to catch up with him so he didn’t pull my arm out of the socket. He didn’t let up his pace until we were at his rental. With four slashed tires.
“Goddammit.” Logan pulled his phone from his pocket while moving me behind one of the large stone columns.
“Are you calling Crowe?” I asked.
“No. The police.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer me but spoke to whoever had answered his emergency call, telling them about the stranger who’d been taking photos of us and finding his car tires slashed. He identified who we were and his fear that someone wanted to retaliate for the hospital incident.
“Yes, I can stay on the line,” he said into the phone. “Just across from the mall? That’s perfect.” He stroked my cheek as if reassuring me. “They have a unit nearby, so they should get here fairly quickly.”
I frowned. Calling the police to handle my problems was not the biker way—not my way. I handled my business when I felt threatened, and from Logan’s clenched jaw and the tension in his body, he clearly felt threatened.
The weight of the knife in my boot was a comforting reminder that I wasn’t without a weapon I could use if needed. Just wished I had access to a gun too. My preference was for slicing into flesh with a blade, but in the event we were outmatched, a gun was more handy.
I’d been in enough situations with Crowe and the others to know what worked best. The most infuriating thing was the waiting. The parking lot was still for a crowded mall. No one coming or going. The silence felt eerie.
“You okay?” Logan asked.
“Yeah, you?”
He nodded. “As long as we stay here, we should be fine.”
Was it my imagination, or had Logan known that man? He hadn’t answered my question about whether he knew the stranger. Why would anyone want to take photos of us unless it was like he said? Some relative of those I’d killed coming after us to take revenge.
It’s probably time to dust off my cut and wear it more often so the people of Smoky Vale recognize who I am.
“This is so weird,” I said. “What’s taking them so long if they’re parked across from the mall?”
Logan listened to the voice speaking on the phone, then turned to me. “Dispatch says they’re heading toward us now.”
He repeatedly brushed his fingers across my cheek. The tenderness in his eyes was reassuring, but it didn’t ease the urge to confront and fight. Which was the biker way when we felt threatened. We didn’t sit around, not doing anything and waiting for the police to rescue us. But Logan was a civilian—a doctor. He didn’t understand those of us who preferred to handle our affairs with fists, knives, and guns.
Footsteps pounding on the concrete caught our attention. Two cops, guns drawn, ran toward us.
“I can see them,” Logan said into the phone. “Thank you.” He ended the call, put his phone back into his pocket, and stepped out into the clearing, bringing me along with him. I would have been just as happy staying behind that column.
Not only was I not accustomed to cops, but one was the reason I’d spent the past weeks in the hospital.
“Dr. Collier.” The cop at the front holstered his gun while the other swept the area. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
I raised my eyebrow. I felt like I’d walked into another conversation after an intermission. What was I missing?
“I’d like nothing more than not to have to take up your time, Officer Roberts. As you can see, this is the car.”
Officer Roberts and his partner exchanged an interesting look and a nod that sent the partner inspecting the car.
“And you said someone was following you inside the mall?” He took out a notebook and a pen.
“Not exactly following, but he was taking photos of my boyfriend.”
The cop turned to me, passing a sweeping look over my attire. With a raised eyebrow, he focused his attention back on Logan. “It’s not illegal to take photos in public space. Maybe he saw something he liked.”
“This was different,” Logan said. “He was still snapping photos when we were walking out. It felt targeted, and now that someone slashed the tires of my car, I can’t help but wonder.”
Why was he doing the cops’ thinking for them? They were useless, just like I’d thought.
“Well, we got a note here.” The other officer held a sheet of paper with words scribbled on it. I squinted to read them.
You won’t get away with what you did.