Page 42 of His Favorite Color is Blood
Grim exhaled and pulled Misha harder against his chest. The scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh air and the aroma of wild flowers that grew all around them, and it provided the necessary peace for Misha to keep it together.
“They realized you knew?” asked Grim.
“Oh, they let me find out. To secure the whole thing, I had to look through some of that stuff, and it scared me shitless, so … I did the best job I could possibly do for them. I smiled, nodded, and coded until my fingers were sore. I wanted to be out. I didn’t want money. I just wanted to forget about the whole thing. I could barely sleep. I’m so ashamed now. All these people who got hurt later because I helped them keep a secure system …” Misha shook his head, evading the thoughts of his most shameful moment and his biggest guilt, much more recent than the whole hackfest.
Grim slid his hands along Misha’s arms and entwined their fingers. “They took you,” he whispered knowingly. It wasn’t even a question. Grim knew this was how this world worked.
“Once I finished with the system, closed my mouth shut, and smiled some more, hoping they wouldn’t see the crazy in my eyes, I didn’t get any money, and I didn’t get to leave. You must have seen pictures of those amazing domes of St. Basil’s cathedral in Moscow. They were commissioned by Ivan the Terrible, and the architect had done such a beautiful job with them that when he was done, thetsar had him blinded so nothing like them could ever be built again. I knew their secrets. They wouldn’t let me go. When I think about all that I’ve been through, I don’t know if I’m lucky to still be alive or if it was some kind of punishment for my crimes. I guess I have a pretty face, so they kept me.” He shrugged, not for the first time wishing he were uglier. But then he would probably have been killed, and he would never have met Grim.
Grim was silent for several seconds and eventually pulled his hands away. “How did they get you into the US?”
Misha looked over his shoulder. “In a container on a cargo ship.”
“It’s over now,” said Grim calmly as he picked up Misha’s ponytail. Then came the slight pressure at the back of Misha’s head, and his skin crawled with ants, sensing a blade without even touching it.
He stopped breathing and stiffened, but there was no fear in him despite the visceral reaction of his body. Grim wouldn’t cut him up. “It is. The chip is out, and I want to think I’m free, but I don’t know if they’ll ever give up. I still remember ways to crack into their files, their records and videos, and all. If I were brave, I’d give it all up to the police so they could track down those bastards.”
The last few hairs left of the long ponytail stung as Grim cut their strings, but immediately after, Misha’s head felt so insanely light, and soft waves fell against his jaw.
“You are brave,” said Grim. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to get the first guy back in Tennessee. You distracted them.”
Misha smiled and touched the endings of his hair, ecstatic over how much weight had been taken off his heart with that one cut. “Nah, you would have managed.” He tipped his head back and gave Grim a kiss.
Grim smirked and pressed the cut hair, still tied together with the elastic band, into Misha’s hand. “Yours.”
“Thank you.” He looked at the bundle of hair that had been a burden for so long just for Gary’s pleasure. Misha shook his head vigorously, enjoying how light it felt now. “So … that’s why I said I’d understand it if you wanted to leave. Because I have a target on my back, and I might never wash it off.”
Grim smirked, resting his chin on Misha’s shoulder. Even now, he was so ridiculously well groomed. And he didn’t do it because someone told him to. It seemed he just enjoyed his hair sleek and his face clean-shaven. “No one will cry if I’m gone anyway.”
“I guess there wouldn’t be, because I’d be dead as well.” Misha reached up and stroked Grim’s smooth cheek.
Grim laughed and put his big, mean-looking knife back into a pouch at his hip. “It’s nice to have someone over. It’s been years since I had a guest.”
“Could we have a little campfire? I’d like to burn these.” He pointed to the hair with his head. “I’ve also got something else of Gary’s that I’d want to get rid of.”
Grim stiffened. “A fire? Why don’t you just ... bury it?”
“It won’t feel like it’s really … gone, you know? Like the flash drive from Gary. Now that the chip is gone, I’ll keep stealthy, and I want it all behind me. Gone.”
Grim grimaced. “Why don’t you give it to the police?”
Misha shook his head quickly and squeezed his hand around the hair. “They’d know it was me and retaliate. I think now they might just forget about me. I know it’s selfish not to tell the police, but I’m so sick of living in fear, wondering if I’m entertaining enough for Gary, or if I’m bringing him enough money, or if I will meet Zero again.”
Grim’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he finally gave Misha a nod. “But we’ll take precautions. Don’t want another fire around here.”
“Yes, scoutmaster. We will.” Misha turned around and planted a kiss on Grim’s lips.
Chapter 15
Misha
Before the sun wentdown, Grim gathered some stones and broken pieces of brick and put them in a circle between the remaining walls of the burnt-down house. The second floor must have been made of wood, because the blackened skeleton of the first floor was all that remained with the floor burned all the way to the cement of the foundations. There was a sparse layer of moss and grass growing all over the structure, but Grim removed any growth from a section of the floor that he intended to use as the fireplace. For someone who didn’t want to have anything to do with flames, he was quite adept at preparing a campfire. Misha made some sandwiches in Grim’s house, as Grim insisted he didn’t need any help and worked in the ruins for two hours at dusk.
Misha didn’t understand why Grim insisted on preparing the fire there of all places, but he didn’t argue and let Grim carry him to the charred remains of the house. They walked in through a collapsed doorway and into a narrow, long space that had been the living room in the past. The brick walls had lost their color, covered by a layer of soot, and there was not much left in the ruins, not even rubble and random trash that he would have expected in a place like this. Grim spread a blanket over waterproof canvas, farther away from the circle of impromptu fireplace than Misha would normally consider sensible, but he didn’t want to point it out and suggest Grim was being overprotective.
“I thought we could stay here for the evening,” said Grim as he scooted down and sat Misha on the blanket, which hid some extra padding underneath.
Misha nodded, squeezing the cut-off ponytail in his hand. “I like natural surroundings, even at night. There’s no one here. Only me and you.”
