37
LOGAN
I leaned against the bar, swirling the amber liquid in my glass as I watched Max step outside after Bloom. A small weight lifted from my chest. At least someone had gone after him. I wasn’t too keen on him going out on his own. We still had so much to talk about, but not until I found out what Dr. Simms was up to.
The bar hummed with life. Uncle Mickey and Emil were playing poker with some of the bikers. I frowned. It was so rare to see Uncle Mickey without Bishop. Why did only two of them show up tonight?
My focus drifted back to the door. Maybe I should check on Bloom. I shook my head and forced myself to relax. Max was with him. He’d be fine.
“Logan.” Jamie’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. He sidled up to the bar, his face a little flushed. He’d kicked off his shoes and went around barefooted.
“What’s up, Jamie?” I set my glass down.
He smiled faintly, but something wistful gleamed in his eyes. “This was a nice thing you did for Bloom. The bikers will come to appreciate it…after.”
I groaned. “Grimm told you.”
“We don’t keep anything from each other, but don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“I have the feeling too many people know.”
“But people you trust.”
I drummed my fingers on the wooden bar top. “What’s this I hear about Dr. Simms being fired?”
“Well, not exactly fired. He’s suspended for now until the hospital finishes their investigation.”
“Do you know what’s up with that?”
“Not fully. I reported Bloom’s claims, and they’re eager not to have another scandal so soon after the shooting incident, so they’re taking it seriously. Turns out there was another report from another patient of his that wasn’t taken seriously before. This time it is.”
“I think there’s a lot more going on with Dr. Simms.”
“How do you mean?”
“Do you know much about hypnotherapy?”
“Not really. Why?”
I shook my head. “It’s probably nothing. We won’t be here long enough to confirm my suspicions anyway. I can only hope that we’ll be able to start over fresh and it’ll help Bloom to put all this behind him.”
“He’s going to miss them, Logan,” Jamie said softly. “He has a special bond with these men, and who can blame him? They saved his life and raised him.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I heaved a sigh. “But what do you expect me to do? He’s been hurt too many times because of me. If I stay here, it’ll only get worse. This is the only way to keep him and everyone else safe. If we can’t be found, no one can come after us.”
“I know. I just wish there was some other way. I’m going to miss you. Things already aren’t the same without you at the hospital. I kept telling myself you would eventually return, but now, there’s no hope of that happening.”
“You hated my guts when you first started working at the hospital.”
“Not at all! I was happy to be training under you. You’ve taught me a lot—things textbooks could not—and I’ll always have that with me, even when you’re gone.”
My throat tightened. I’d never expected to care about these people, but the truth was I did. Way too much. Over time they’d become my family too. Bloom wasn’t the only one who would miss them.
Cass ran inside the casino, holding his stomach, tears streaming down his face. Mort was on his feet in an instant.
“Cass, what is it, baby?”
A crowd formed around them. Jamie and I rushed forward as well. Where was Bloom? Was he still on the outside?
“M-M-Max.” His breaths came out in shallow pants. “Oh my god, it’s Max. He’s dead.”
“What?” Crowe roared, forcing his way forward to Cass. “What did you just say?”
Cass pointed at the door, his finger trembling, unable to get the words out. His husband pulled him into his arms to comfort him.
Oh shit. Max and Bloom had been together outside.
Crowe took off running. I was right at his heels, praying that Bloom was all right. That Cass was mistaken and both boys were safe.
My heart pounded, and dread clawed at my throat as we burst outside. Max lay sprawled on the steps, blood pooling beneath him. Crowe froze, his face going pale as he stared at the still form of his boyfriend. A quick sweep of the area showed Bloom was missing.
“Max…”
The raw pain in Crowe’s voice sent a shiver down my spine. Torn between the need to find Bloom and to check on the injured young man, my years of training kicked in. I dropped to my knees beside Max, Jamie doing the same on his other side.
“Give us room,” he yelled as people crowded us. They snapped into action, giving us the space to work.
“Someone call an ambulance!” I barked, my hands moving automatically to check for a pulse.
Jamie was already tearing open Max’s shirt to assess the wound. Sven appeared beside us, pale but focused, and handed us a medical supplies bag. He was breathing hard. “I got this from my car. Maybe it’ll help until the ambulance gets here.”
“Pulse is weak,” Jamie said, his voice tight. “Gunshot wounds to the chest. Possible damage to the heart and lungs.”
Crowe kneeled beside us, his hands trembling as he reached for Max’s bloodied hand. “You stay with me,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You hear me, Max? You stay with me. You don’t get to leave me, not like this, not ever.”
“Crowe, let us work,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside me. I met his gaze briefly. “We’ll do everything we can.”
“He cannot die.”
I gave him a brief nod. It was useless reminding him I only had some control over what happened. The injury was bad. If we didn’t get him to the hospital soon, there was little Jamie and I could do for him with the limited supplies we had.
The sound of sirens in the distance spurred us into action, Jamie and I working in tandem with Sven to slow down the bleeding and stabilize Max. The minutes stretched endlessly, each second dragging like an eternity until the ambulance screeched to a halt on site.
Paramedics jumped out, their movements well rehearsed as they sprinted toward us. One kneeled beside Max, and I filled him in on the situation and what needed to be done.
“Hey, I know you,” the paramedic said.
“Tend to the patient,” I snapped.
Without a second word, he focused on Max, signaling his partner to bring the stretcher. They worked quickly, transferring him onto it while fitting a mask over his face to aid his breathing. As they rushed Max into the waiting ambulance, Crowe attempted to follow them but was held back by one of the other paramedics.
“I’m sorry, but it’s best we take him alone.”
“Crowe, I’ll go with them.” Jamie hopped into the back without waiting for the paramedics to agree. “You can follow us in the truck. Logan, do what you can to find Bloom.”
“Bloom.” Crowe sounded lost, as if he just realized Bloom was missing. “He was with Max. Where is he?”
“He…” Shit, I had no answer. Bloom was missing, and with each passing minute, the uncertainty grew stronger. My stomach tied up in knots, and my legs felt like overcooked spaghetti. I stared at the blood on my hands. Max’s blood. What if Bloom was bleeding out somewhere else?
I spun to the young man who had found Max. He sat crumpled on the ground in the biker’s lap, his shoulders shaking with every choked sob. His tear-streaked face was pale, his eyes wide with the shock of what he’d witnessed.
“Ask him if he saw anything,” I said to Mort, my voice tight, almost desperate.
Mort shook his head grimly. “I already did. Max was already shot, and Bloom was gone by the time he walked out, but… he did hear a car drive off.”
Bloom.
My chest constricted, the air around me suddenly too thin. My pulse thundered in my ears, each beat a drumroll of dread.
Oh god, where is he?
“It’s not too late. We can find him.” Uncle Mickey stepped up beside me and clamped a hand down on my arm, his grip solid, like an anchor. “We have manpower. Have some search the premises. Others will ride out across town to get answers.”
What if it is too late?
The thought clawed at the edges of my mind, refusing to be silenced. My fingers trembled as I clenched them into fists, trying to focus on the here and now, trying to stop my mind from spiraling into the worst-case scenario.
“He’s right,” Grimm said sharply, already barking orders to the bikers. His voice was calm, commanding, the polar opposite of the storm raging inside me. Men grouped up, their faces grim and determined, each ready to ride out into the night. Engines roared like battle cries, piercing the air as pairs sped off toward every exit out of town.
“Spread out,” Crowe bellowed, straddling his bike. “Search every nook and cranny of this place. I want the man responsible for this.”
“Go to Max.” Grimm stepped into his path. “I’ll handle things here.”
Crowe looked between the direction the ambulance had gone and the men preparing to search for Bloom. For a long moment, he seemed torn, the weight of his choices visible in the rigid set of his shoulders. Finally, he nodded stiffly, kicking his bike into gear. “Find him,” he said to me through clenched teeth. Then he was tearing off toward the hospital, his roar fading into the distance.
Around me, the remaining men scattered, their boots pounding against the ground as they swept the area. The air was electric with purpose, their determination palpable, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. The fear wrapped around my chest like a vise, squeezing tighter and tighter with every second that passed without him.
Where are you, Bloom?
I closed my eyes, but it was a mistake. My mind conjured images I didn’t want to see: Bloom alone, scared, hurt—or worse. I balled my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms as I fought against the rising panic. I couldn’t afford to lose control. Not now. Not when he needed me.
“Uncle Mickey,” I said, my voice sharp. “Where’s Emil?”
My stomach churned with a sick dread. There was a reason I hadn’t trusted my uncle fully, a reason I’d kept him and my brother at arm’s length. Could they have had something to do with this? Was I paranoid, or was my gut screaming a truth I didn’t want to face?
“I think he went off to assist with the search,” Uncle Mickey replied evenly, his expression unreadable.
But had he?
“Bishop didn’t come tonight,” I said, my tone clipped.
Uncle Mickey shrugged, but his casual response grated against my nerves. “He wasn’t feeling well, so I told him to take the night off.”
Convenient. Too convenient.
“Everything all right here?” Grimm’s voice pulled me back to the moment. His sharp gaze flicked between me and Uncle Mickey.
I stared at my uncle, my heart pounding, every instinct telling me to press him harder. What if I was wrong? But what if I wasn’t? What if trusting him had been the mistake that cost me the one person I couldn’t bear to lose?
My throat tightened as the panic surged again, raw and unrelenting. Where are you, Bloom? The words repeated in my mind, an agonizing mantra. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to focus on the only thing that mattered.
“I need to find him.” The words slipped out hoarse, barely audible. My hands shook as I pushed past them, my vision narrowing to the men dispersing into the night. I’ll tear this town apart if I have to.
Because the thought of a world without Bloom? That was a world I wasn’t ready to face.
“Bay’s checking the security feed now. Let’s go inside. We have a system. If anyone finds him, they’ll alert us.”
I half expected my uncle to come up with a reason not to go with us. An excuse so he could disappear, but he fell into step beside us. His presence was both a comfort and a terror as I questioned his true loyalty.
Grimm led us to the control room, a small, cluttered space with monitors and equipment humming softly, the glow of the screens casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air was thick, almost suffocating. Bay was already seated, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he rewound the footage with practiced precision.
The rest of us gathered around him, the tension in the room palpable. My chest felt tight, my breaths shallow as I leaned against the desk, my eyes fixed on the screen. Each frame felt like an eternity, the seconds ticking backward toward the moment I dreaded seeing.
“There,” Bay said, his voice low but urgent. “That’s them.”
The screen flickered, showing Bloom and Max sitting on the steps, their bodies illuminated by the faint light spilling from the doorway. My heart twisted at the sight of Bloom. His movements, his posture, the way his hands gestured as he talked—it was all him. He was alive. At least, he had been then.
On the screen, Bloom reached into his jacket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Max. They exchanged a few words. The next frame showed the impact—Max jerked violently, clutching his chest and collapsing onto the ground. Blood darkened his shirt, stark even in the monochrome footage. Bloom seemed unharmed. He reached for Max.
“Keep going,” Grimm urged, his voice low and strained.
The camera caught a figure stepping into the clearing, their body partially obscured by shadows. My breath hitched as I saw the gun in their hand, aimed steadily at Bloom.
Nononono.
Bloom stood, his posture rigid, and walked toward the man. His head turned slightly, his lips moving as though he were speaking. The man lifted the gun, motioning for him to move forward. My pulse thundered in my ears as Bloom obeyed, coming into the frame fully, his hands at his sides.
And then the man turned his head, just enough for the camera to catch his profile. Bay hit the Pause button, freezing the frame. Sweat prickled my skin as I stared at the familiar face.
“Son of a bitch.” I gripped the edge of the desk so hard my knuckles turned white.
“Isn’t that Bloom’s psychiatrist?” Bay asked.
“Dr. Simms. Yeah, that’s him.”
The room fell into stunned silence, the only sound the faint hum of the monitors. The face on the screen—the man who had shot Max and taken Bloom—was unmistakable.
My uncle wasn’t behind this. Relief washed over me. Was it possible I’d judged the situation wrong and my family hadn’t been behind the attempts on my life? Had it been Dr. Simms all along trying to get rid of me so he could have Bloom to himself? If he’d shot Max just to take Bloom, he was capable of anything.
And I pushed Bloom to resume their sessions.
“What the hell does he want with Bloom?” Grimm asked.
“He’s obsessed with him or something. I found out today he made a pass at Bloom.”
“But this is extreme for liking someone. Isn’t it?”
“We can figure out the true motive after. We know who’s behind it. Now all we have to do is find him. Bay, continue playing the video. Maybe we can see his vehicle or something.”
“Right.” Bay tapped the keyboard, resuming the video. The screen flickered back to life, showing Dr. Simms motioning for Bloom to follow. They disappeared from sight for a moment, and my heart squeezed in my chest. But then they emerged again, Bloom’s arms tied behind his back, and walked toward a dark SUV. Dr. Simms opened the backdoor, gesturing for Bloom to get inside, the gun still trained on Bloom.
At least he’s alive.
I had to comfort myself with that thought. We had time to find him. Dr. Simms didn’t seem keen on hurting him, which gave us time to find him.
Dr. Simms got in the front seat, started the engine, and drove away.
“Can you enhance this part so we can get the license plate number?” Uncle Mickey pointed at the screen.
“I’ll try.” Bay brought up a new tool on his computer. He worked quickly, and though the footage was grainy and taken from a distance, he managed to zoom in and enhance it enough so the license plate was visible.
“We have a license plate number.”
“I’ll call Alan and have him do his thing. The guy’s a genius in hacking into databases.”
“Fuck, I almost forgot,” Bay said. “Crowe has a tracker on Bloom’s phone. I’ll call him. Maybe we can use that to find their location.”
So that was where Bloom got the idea to track my phone. I should have known. If we could use it to find Bloom, he could track me anytime he wanted. I just needed him to be safe.
Please, dear god, don’t let it be too late.