15

The sobbing man I'd forced into the trunk of his car earlier clung to Logan, who'd freed him from the cramped space and cut the zip ties around his ankles and hands loose. I gritted my teeth at the too-close contact.

One.

Two.

Three.

I cracked my knuckles.

Logan pushed the man away from him and held him by the shoulders at a distance when he tried to get closer again.

"Nicholas, get a hold of yourself."

"He-he locked me in the car trunk! I've never been treated like this." He clutched his chest—dramatic much. "Oh god, I thought he was going to kill me."

If he faints, Logan better not catch him.

"It might still happen if you don't stop grabbing the doc like that. He won't be able to save you."

Nicholas paled and dropped the hand that had been clutching Logan's shirt. I smirked, ignoring Logan's scowl. Much better.

"Bloom, not helping."

I shrugged. Did I have stupid stamped on my forehead? I didn't plan to help this guy into Logan's arms. It was only fair I warned him I didn't take kindly to him getting too close to my man. I was being considerate. What I really wanted to do was stuff him back into the trunk. And light a match.

"Where's your phone?" Nicholas asked. "He broke mine. I need to call the police."

"No, no police." Logan jerked his head to the right. "It was just a misunderstanding, right, Bloom?"

"Misunderstanding?" Nicholas gawked, his lips opening and closing. A choked sound escaped his throat as he stared at Logan in disbelief. He reminded me of the summer Crowe had taken me fishing when I was around sixteen, and we had caught a fish with big, bulging eyes. It'd looked so pathetic, flopping around, that I'd tossed it back into the water.

If this Nicholas were a fish, I'd have left him on the dock.

"Look, this hasn't been a pleasant experience, but—"

"Of course it's not. Your little psycho boyfriend—eek!"

He jumped at the blade I brandished under his nose. "Let him finish speaking."

"Bloom!"

"What?" I glared. "If I'd interrupted you, you would have called me rude. What's so special about him that you don't scold him?"

Did Logan like him after all?

"He's nothing special. I'm just trying to defuse the situation, and you're not helping. Go stand by your bike."

I planted my feet firmly on the ground. "I ain't going anywhere, leaving you two alone."

"You'll be able to see us." I didn't budge. Logan's eyes narrowed to slits, and his jaw hardened. "Go stand next to your bike, Bloom."

The soft authority in his tone was enough to raise the hairs at my nape. How was this fair? He didn't have to shout, didn't have to threaten me. His quiet words were always like strings to my puppet. I had to do whatever he wanted. "If you let him touch you again, don't blame me for what I might do next."

I stalked over to my motorcycle, hating every step I took away from him. Leaning against the cool body of the bike, I crossed my arms. The two fired words at each other I couldn't hear, no matter how much I cocked my ears. Where was the wind when I needed it?

Nicholas's hand twitched, and I gritted my teeth. As the outstretched hand inched closer to Logan again, years of training kicked in. Every moment I'd familiarized myself with the weight and balance of my knife, every target I'd practiced on, all of it condensed into a singular point of focus. My muscles tensed, ready.

Without a second thought, I drew my arm back and snapped it forward, releasing the knife. The weapon cut through the air, a whistle of deadly intent aimed not to harm but to warn. The blade spun, a blur of motion perfectly aligned with the gap between Nicholas's outstretched hand and Logan.

The knife found its mark, not in flesh but in the ground a few feet away from them. The sound of impact was sharp, a distinct thud as the knife embedded shallowly, the handle vibrating slightly from the force before coming to a rest.

Nicholas stopped his hand midair, mere inches from Logan, his eyes darting to the knife sticking out of the ground. Slowly, oh-so slowly he retracted his hand.

He rushed to open his car door, trembling, and cast one last look at Logan and me, his eyes wide with fear. I relished it. Within seconds, tires screeched against the gravel, and dust clouded the air as Nicholas hastily backed out of the parking lot. The car disappeared into the distance, leaving the echo of its engine behind.

Good riddance.

I picked up my knife, meeting Logan's eyes. His lips were pinched in a stern line.

"Now don't start with me. I warned him."

"What if you'd stabbed him?"

I laughed as I examined my blade for any defects, but it seemed solid. "Why? Do you care about him?"

"Not the way you're thinking, but as a human, yes."

"You're wasting your concern over people who don't matter." I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Can we go home now? We are going home, right?"

Logan rubbed his nose against mine, making me smile. He wasn't too mad at me, then.

"Yes. I was trying to talk Nicholas out of reporting you to the police. You just ruined that."

"He won't talk."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he's too scared."

"For your sake, let's hope so."

I tilted my head back. "If I went to prison, would you visit me?"

"No," he said without missing a beat.

Scowling, I smacked him in the chest and stepped back. "Why the fuck not? I'd be digging a tunnel to get you out."

"I wouldn't do anything to go to prison in the first place. If you want to be with me so badly, stay out of prison."

"You say it like I'm the only one who wants this relationship," I grumbled. When he said nothing, my chest rose and fell. "Well?"

"What?"

"Didn't you hear me? Am I the only one who wants this relationship?"

Logan grinned and walked toward his car. "Are you following me home, or what?"

Damn him! He pulled out of the parking lot without me. I hurried to my motorcycle and hopped on. With a roar, the engine came to life beneath me. I ripped out of the lot, tires squealing. The wind whipped against my skin as I closed the distance between us, ducking low to gain more speed.

Despite his nonchalant demeanor, Logan never once veered too far away from me. We stopped side by side at a red light, and Logan rolled his window down. He shouted something that got drowned out by the loud exhaust of a motorcycle that came to a screeching halt on my other side. Fuck, the other bike was a modern beast. Even as a sworn Harley rider, I could appreciate the sleek design and raw power of the Ducati.

The rider raised his visor and gave me a once-over, his eyes lingering a bit too long for my liking. He threw me a smug grin. "Nice ride," he called. Did he mean me or the bike? "Wanna race?"

The fuck was up with this idiot?

Over the roar of the engine, Logan was shouting at me. "Why aren't you—"

The asshole next to me throttled his bike, the motor rumbling in a loud taunt as if daring me to accept his challenge. The lights were still red, but his fingers were twitching restlessly on the handles.

"What's that?" I asked Logan.

"Ignore him."

"Hard to do that when he's being an annoying prick."

The traffic light turned green. "Pussy!" the rider yelled at me as he surged forward.

I gritted my teeth. It was juvenile to take offense to his words, but the part of me that loved a good challenge and wanted to teach him a lesson urged me forward.

"Bloom!" Logan's voice was lost to the wind as I sped up, rushing down the road after the retreating figure of my unwanted rival.

The wind roared past my ears, and the city lights blurred into long streaks of colors as I zoomed past them. My pulse pounded in sync with the engine while adrenaline flowed through my veins. With every passing second, I got closer and closer to the fool who had challenged me. He beckoned at me with one hand.

I gunned the bike, determined not to let him win. The bike surged beneath me, the engine growling thunderously. Something about the weightless feeling of speed, of the danger it carried, made me feel more alive than anything else.

I twisted the throttle harder. The bike let out a monstrous roar as I shot forward with a burst of speed so powerful it felt as though I was being catapulted through space and time.

The smooth asphalt turned into a blur beneath my wheels as I matched his speed and then some. The world around me warped, colors meshing into a whirl of lights. With the adrenaline crashing through my veins, everything seemed surreal, like some high-speed dream from which I didn't want to wake up.

With one final burst of speed I pulled from the guts of my Harley, I rushed ahead of him. I flashed the asshole my middle finger, grabbed both handlebars again, and raised the front wheel off the ground in a triumphant wheelie.

The rider turned left at the intersection. The victory was sweet, and the taste of triumph lingered. I'd lost Logan somewhere behind me. Fuck, he was going to be upset.

I was close to his house, so I rode on, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. As his house came into view, my stomach knotted. This was the night. If Logan wanted me, I would give him everything. I wanted to experience everything with him.

I parked at the side of the driveway, climbed the gate, and straddled it, waiting for him. A bead of sweat trickled down my face from more than the high-speed, reckless chase. What would happen when Logan arrived?

I heard his car engine long before I saw him. He inched up the driveway, and the gates slowly opened. I lost my balance but steadied myself just in time. Logan's car rolled to a stop. I jumped off the gate and landed with a soft thud on the driveway.

At least my thigh doesn't hurt anymore.

The car door opened, and Logan stepped out. He slammed the door shut so hard I winced. "What the hell were you thinking? How could you be so reckless? And riding without a helmet!"

"I won!" I crowed in delight. "His bike was better, but I let him eat my dust. Isn't that—"

Logan stalked to me, grabbed me around the waist, and threw me over his shoulder. I gasped and clung to him.

"Logan!" I kicked my legs in an undignified manner for an enforcer of a biker club. If my brothers saw me, they would laugh at me to death. "Put me down."

"You never listen, so why should I?" He carried me to the front door and let us inside. Without missing a beat, he climbed the stairs with me still slung over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Each step resonated through the silent house, accentuating the stillness of the late hour. He pushed open a door with his shoulder and walked in.

I froze.

The last time I'd been in this room had been a disaster. We'd ended up in his closet, and I still had no idea what I had done or said during my night terror. His bed was free of clothes, so I assumed he'd hung them back in the closet. I was the only misfit.

Logan set me on the bed. He loomed over me, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring. He was seriously mad.

"I am beyond furious with you and your behavior tonight!"

Images flashed through my mind, and I winced.

"Look what you did, you mangy mutt!"

A face presses so close to mine I can smell the rancid breath.

"It's already November, Elin. You said you'd find a buyer for the runt. I'm giving you till the end of the month to get rid of him."

Pain flares up my side, and I cry out as a boot connects with my head.

"It's November. It's November."

"Bloom. Bloom, can you hear me?"

I flinched, my breath hitching as his voice pulled me from the recesses of my dark memories. Logan was kneeling before me, his face etched with concern.

"Bloom, talk to me." He cradled my cheek in his hand, stroking his thumb over my jawline.

My words were trapped in that little boy's head as I fought to ground myself in the present.

I'm Bloom, no longer that mute little boy.

I'm Bloom.

I'm Bloom.

"Bloom."

I threw myself at Logan, and he caught my trembling body as I knocked him over onto his ass on the floor. Logan wrapped his arms around me, tucking my head under his chin. I closed my eyes, pathetic whimpers I loathed coming from me, yet I couldn't stop them.

Say something to him.

He slipped a hand beneath my shirt and rubbed my back over the scar tissues hidden by my tattoos.

"It's okay," he said. "You don't have to say anything. Take as long as you need. You're safe. No one's going to hurt you. I promise."

I squeezed my eyes tightly closed and buried myself farther into his embrace. His warmth enveloped me like a protective shield, keeping away the ghosts of my past who threatened to pull me under again.

For a long time, we sat together on the floor, me clinging to him and him letting me. Several times I tried to speak, but my throat was too tight. Drained from the turmoil of emotions, I sagged against him. Broken and hating myself for being so weak.

A growl rumbled from Logan's stomach.

I raised my head, but he pushed it back gently to his chest.

"You're…hungry," I croaked.

"I won't die. This is more important."

The urge to flee like I'd done that morning was strong, but what had that gotten me? Logan finding himself another man. I wouldn't let that happen again. He was my new Crowe. No, Logan was more. I'd never felt this way about Crowe. Logan made me feel more than safe. He made me feel like I belonged.

"I'm sorry I freaked out over nothing."

"But it's not over nothing, is it? Do you want to talk about it?"

I chewed my bottom lip. The images were vague, and they were never concrete memories.

"It's okay. You don't have to."

"They were memories. You looked so angry. I thought you were going to smack me."

"Yes, I was angry, but, Bloom, I'd never smack you."

"Not even if I deserve it?"

"No one deserves to be abused." He tilted my chin and placed his lips on mine. "And sure as hell not you. Not on my watch. Now if we're having sex and you wanted me to spank your ass, I'd do that in a heartbeat."

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is that you control whether it happens or not. If you don't want to, I won't, but some people get off on that kind of sexual pain. But only if you want to. You're in control of everything that happens between us, and that's why I don't do relationships, Bloom. I don't give that sort of power to anyone but you. You can have as much as you need to feel safe with me."