Page 62 of His Favorite Color is Blood
“Birdie, let’s go,” he said and took the reins, pushing Misha’s wheelchair out into the corridor and then straight toward the exit. His joints were so stiff they felt like they’d break if he walked on, but he would do it for Misha, who neededhelp much more than Grim did no matter how much it hurt to see his lovely boy brutalized. Zero would pay the price. He would be hunted down and mauled just like anyone else who’d ever dare hurt Misha again.
Misha looked like a shadow of himself when Grim helped him up into the cab. His eyes had that haunted, fearful look like when Grim had found him under the desk in his room in Louisiana. Grim needed to take him away from here as soon as possible or his bird would stumble into his own mind again.
He drove straight back to town, mentally exhausted as they passed the community center, the gas station, and a small school. It’d been an hour since they last saw those places, and yet nothing was the same. No matter how hard he tried, Grim couldn’t wipe out the image of Misha’s severed bone and the blood gushing out of his open body. The echo of Misha’s screams meddled with his brain, and as much as he wanted to provide support, every time he tried to say something, he couldn’t bring himself to.
Misha patted his arm. “Stop the truck,” he muttered, and Grim instinctively looked into the rearview mirror, thinking that maybe they were being followed, but there was no one there. Just an empty dark road between the trees. He pulled over and looked at Misha, aching to do something, even though he felt painfully helpless.
Misha pushed open the door and bent over, leaning out. Seconds later, he threw up, his whole body shaking.
Grim petted his back, shifting in the seat to be closer. He kissed Misha between the shoulderblades and slid his arms around his midsection. It was the first thing that gave him some sort of relief since they left. “I’m here.”
It took a while, but Misha finally pulled himself back up, first washing out his mouth with some water and then turning to Grim for a hug. “He’ssick,” he whispered. “Who does things like this?”
“He likes it,” said Grim breathlessly, hugging Misha as tight as he could without breaking his bones. It only now struck him just how tense he’d been as well as how much his body needed this moment of tenderness. “But he won’t touch you again. I promise.”
“He wants us to kill someone. I can’t just kill someone else to save myself and Denny. Or can I? Is that me? I don’t know ...” Misha’s voice was soft and trembling, and he wouldn’t move away from Grim by even an inch.
“We won’t kill just anyone. I can get a contract. Someone despicable who no one will ever miss,” whispered Grim.
Misha looked up at him with those big eyes full of hope. “You can do that?” And with those words, Grim finally felt capable again. He pushed hair out of Misha’s face and nodded, smiling at him as best as he could.
“Ask me what I can’t do.”
Chapter 20
Grim
Misha’s screams echoed inGrim’s skull as soon as there was nothing to distract him. He listened to them all the way to Detroit, because Misha was distant and spent the whole time pretending to be asleep. Grim could still hear the cries when he sat at the oval table in the Coffin Nails MC chapter. It was slowly getting darker outside, and with the blinds only partially open, the room looked as if it had been covered by a widow’s veil—greyish and flat. Some of the members of the club were already here.
Don, the oldest, was cooped up in the corner with cigarette smoke matching the white of his long thin hair. Blitz’s bald head reflected the faint light coming from the window behind him. The president, Priest, sat at the top of the table with his arms crossed on his chest, the white dusting of hair on his forearms showing off his age much more than the bright, attentive eyes that looked at Grim from underneath wickedly crooked eyebrows. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath since Grim arrived, for once driving a truck, not the old-fashioned motorcycle that hadn’t been between Grim’s legs for far too long.
This chapter might have been the first to have an openly gay permanent member, but that didn’t mean all the patches were completely comfortable with Grim showing up with a man for the first time. He could feel their judgmental stares even as they gave Grim a key to a room on the second floor and agreed to hold a meeting when he asked for it. He was so angry from sensing the heat behind those stares on his skin and yet too pumped out to make a big deal out of it. At least they made an effort and didn’t say any stupid shit.
A new guy, tall and longhaired, glanced at Grim every now and then without a word, and an anonymous prospect leaned against the wall, biting his nails and spitting them to the floor. Grim was on the verge of smacking him for that and telling him to collect all the biological waste, but considering he came seeking a favor, he needed to play nice.
“Can’t we start already?” groaned Milk, a blond guy in his thirties with a big nose and an even bigger mouth. Grim had heard quite a few tales about the guy’s stupid escapades.
Priest sighed. “Tooth’s still on his way. Play with your phone if you’re that impatient.”
Grim smirked despite the gloomy atmosphere. For a long time, Tooth had been the only gay Coffin Nail Grim knew of, and they even shared some good times when they were still both unattached. It would be nice to see the man again.
Milk wouldn’t get to play any Candy Crush though. The sound of Tooth’s heavy boots resounded outside, and he rushed in seconds later with his wild dark hair in disarray, partially flattened from wearing a helmet, but his beard was as immaculate as always. One of the perks of having a barber for a boyfriend.
Grim stood up and reached out his hand to Tooth, who looked at it, pulled off his glove, and gave Grim’s palm a firm squeeze. “What’s the occasion?” he asked and nodded at the prospect, who stormed out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Priest leaned back. “Grim wanted to talk to the whole club. Sit with us, apparently this will take a while.”
Tooth glanced at Grim and slid into his chair at Priest’s side. “What’s up?”
Don breathed out a cloud of smoke that could kill a three-year-old child with its sheer toxicity. “Grim has a man now. He brought him here.”
Grim clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything, knowing he could not afford a violent argument when Don wasn’t openly confrontational. Not at a time like this.
When Tooth frowned, Grim leaned back into his chair, focusing on the VP. “That’s true. I’ve had him for the last month.”
Tooth put his forearms on the table and groaned. “Good for you. You brought us here to tell us about your wedding plans?”
“Why, you want to host it? Wouldn’t mind a nice haircut,” said Grim, keeping a straight face when Milk let out a strangled chuckle.
