40
BLOOM
T he room was quiet, too quiet. I sat there, tied to the chair, my jaw aching like hell from the gag that had been shoved into my mouth for what felt like forever. My tongue was dry, my throat raw, and my wrists were chafed from the ropes biting into them, but at least he’d allowed me to put my clothes back on.
Dr. Simms had left over an hour ago. Maybe he forgot about me. Maybe he wasn’t coming back. My mind twisted with hope and panic. Was that worse? Being tied up here, alone, waiting for something to happen? My chest felt tight, my breaths short as I tried not to let the silence swallow me whole.
The door creaked open, and I flinched, my heart slamming against my ribs. Dr. Simms walked in, calm as ever, like this was just another day at the office. He smiled as if he’d done whatever he’d set out to do.
“The coast is clear,” he said, his voice smooth and steady. “I got what we need to last us for a week. Supplies, food. We’ll be leaving shortly.”
Leaving? My stomach churned. No. No way am I going anywhere with him.
I lowered my gaze in case he saw my stubborn determination to get away from him. He darted around the room, packing his computer, shoving papers into a bag, and clearing the drawers. I stayed perfectly still, pretending to be defeated, but I followed his every move.
My mind was racing. If I was going to get out of this, it had to be now. But how? My hands were tied, my legs too, and every inch of me hurt.
If he got me into that car again, it might be too late.
Dr. Simms walked over and crouched in front of me. “I’m going to remove the gag, but if you make a sound, I’ll have to sedate you, which will make me very angry. You don’t want me to be angry, do you, Bloom?”
I shook my head.
His fingers brushed against my skin as he untied it and pulled it free. I coughed, the sudden rush of air feeling sharp and painful. My jaw throbbed from being stuck open for so long, and I tried to work it, but it barely moved.
“There. Better?”
I didn’t answer, just glared at him, my throat too dry to speak.
“I’m going to untie your legs now so you can walk to the car, but if you try anything, Bloom—if you so much as think about running—you’ll regret it. No, I won’t kill you. You’re too valuable an asset for that, but I can do things to your mind that you can’t even fathom. Do we understand each other?”
I nodded slowly, keeping my face blank, my head ducked like I was too scared to argue. My heart was pounding so hard I thought he’d hear it.
Stay calm. Stay quiet. Wait.
He untied my legs, the ropes falling away, and I resisted the urge to kick him right then and there. My legs felt weak, pins and needles prickling my skin as the blood rushed back.
“Good.” He straightened and motioned toward the door. “Get up.”
I stood shakily, keeping my head low, letting him think I was too scared to fight. But every muscle in my body was coiled tight, waiting for the right moment.
“Well, don’t look so glum,” he said. “Are you missing your precious Logan? Don’t worry. If you’re good for me, I may send you back to him when I’m done. Of course, by then, you’ll be so damaged he won’t want anything to do with you.”
He laughed, a hollow and cruel sound that bounced off the walls. The jab about Logan stung more than he could know.
I followed him out of the office, my hands still tied behind me. We stepped into the hallway, the stairs just ahead. Dr. Simms guided me down the hall, gripping my upper arm as if he expected me to bolt. My legs were wobbly, my muscles still tingling from being bound for so long, but I forced myself to walk steadily. My mind raced, cataloging every detail—the distance to the door, the sharp edges of the banister, the stairs leading down to freedom.
The stairs.
That’s it.
I kept my head low, letting him think I was docile, compliant. Each step brought us closer to the top of the staircase, and with every inch, my heart pounded harder. He moved ahead of me, glancing back as if to make sure I was following.
His foot hit the first step.
I stumbled forward deliberately, throwing my weight into him, slamming my shoulder into his side. With one hand clutching his laptop and folders, he lost his balance. He released me, arms flailing, and tried to grab the railing. But the momentum was too great, and he tumbled down the stairs, his body colliding with the steps in a sickening cacophony of cracks and thuds.
I froze at the top, staring down at him as he landed at the bottom in a twisted heap. His limbs were bent at unnatural angles, his face pale and contorted with pain. A strangled groan escaped him.
“You…” he rasped, his voice laced with pain.
I took a step down, narrowing my eyes. For a fleeting moment, the urge to finish him off burned hot and bright. My foot hovered above his head, and he widened his eyes in realization.
“Bloom, wait…” he begged. “Don’t do this—”
I kicked him in the head, a sharp, satisfying snap echoing through the stairwell as his head jerked to the side. His body went still, his groans ceasing.
For once, the urge to be free—to find Logan—was stronger than the urge to kill. The man wasn’t going anywhere, not with his shattered body sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. And his death belonged to Crowe.
I turned and ran, my breaths ragged and shallow as I burst through the front door. The night air hit me like a shock, cool and crisp against my flushed skin. My bare feet slapped against the pavement as I darted down the driveway.
Just keep moving. Don’t look back. Find Logan. Find—
Bright headlights blinded me, freezing me in place like a deer caught in a hunter’s sight. The roar of the engine filled my ears, and before I could react, the car slammed into me. Pain exploded along my side, and I landed on the hard asphalt like a rag doll. I gasped for air as agony rippled through me.
Footsteps crunched against the gravel, slow and deliberate. I struggled to lift my head, my vision blurry and spinning. A figure loomed above me, their face hidden in the shadows cast by the glaring headlights.
“Gotcha.”
“Help me,” I whispered.
Bishop’s face contorted into a spiteful grin. “Not so arrogant now, are you? Maybe we can work something out. After I use you as bait to reel Keegan in. He’s the one we really want anyway.”
I clamped my eyes shut and tried to concentrate on my breathing. I always had the worst luck. Why? Why couldn’t things go all right for a change? Tears burned against my eyelids.
Logan, I’m sorry. I tried.
Bishop picked me up like I weighed nothing. His arm pressed against the bruised ribs on my right side, the excruciating pain making my vision go white. When I came to, I lay in the back of a van, trussed up like the Thanksgiving turkey Jamie had made.
Bishop drove off into the night. I tried to sit up, but he took a corner too fast, and I was flung against the metal side of the van. I slumped back down, the taste of copper in my mouth from biting down on my tongue.
After a few minutes, he slowed. I used the opportunity to inch forward. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Why did you come to Smoky Vale?”
“What do you think?”
“For Logan.”
He huffed with laughter. “He really thought we forgot about everything he did to us? Others might have forgotten, but not me. I was there from the beginning, when everything was good. Then he ruined it.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Mickey called me, of course, as soon as Keegan figured out where you were. I rushed over to get to you before they did. Think how crushed he will be when he finds out he was too late.”
“This was your plan all along?” I cried. Shit, my attempt to escape was foiled. “To use me to get to Logan?”
“We’ve had so many plans that we’ve had to change. Like the day you and the other bikers rode up on us. Had you not shown up that day, we would have killed him.”
“You had time before we got there.”
“Yes, but Emil wasn’t supposed to have been there.”
“So he’s not a part of this, then?”
“He’s a useless piece of shit who can’t even run the family when he’s the only son left. He’s no threat to Mickey’s power.”
“And Logan is? He doesn’t want anything to do with his family.”
“Don’t blame us. We left him alone for years, but then he showed up on TV, and Marcello got the brilliant idea to pardon him and bring him back into the family.” He smacked his hand into the steering wheel. “Why should he still make decisions about the family when he’s behind bars? Why do they still listen to him when Mickey’s the one doing all the work? He never appreciated Mickey and all he’s done, all he’s sacrificed.”
“Are you fucking him or something?” The way he talked about Logan’s uncle seemed a lot more than the loyalty Logan told me was between them.
“Once.” His voice was merely a whisper, almost impossible to hear. “His brother blinded one of my eyes because he found me screwing Mickey. Now he wants to accept Logan’s relationship with you to bring him back into the family?” His eyes met mine briefly in the rearview mirror. “Over my dead body. If I wasn't good enough for Mickey, then Marcello doesn’t get to play favorites and accept you for Keegan.”