Page 5 of His Favorite Color is Blood
Grim nodded. “Don’t worry. I can handle the police. We’ll get you documents. I have friends who owe me a favor, and they can do that for me.”
Andrey sank into the seat with a deep exhale, and when he didn’t say anything, just watching the dark forest in front of them, Grim figured it would be a good time for a call to Ripper. The Louisiana club president needed to know his Nomad warrior wasn’t dead yet.
“Don’t say anything now, okay?” he asked Andrey before choosing the number. The raid should have been complete by now.
“Where the fuck are you?” Ripper wasn’t wasting time for pleasantries once he picked up. “One of my guys told me you stole a truck?”
Grim exhaled. He’d hoped no one had yet informed Ripper. The Louisiana chapter was a bunch of bums so that would have corresponded to their usualmodus operandi. “Sorry about that, but I couldn’t reach you before, and there is an emergency I need to take care of. But I saw you guys had everything under control. The raid was completed, and we established that you’d contact the police anyway,” he lied in an apologetic tone.
“Fine, fine. It just pissed me off that you kept me in the dark. Are you leaving the state?”
Grim nodded, relieved. If this were the president of his original chapter, or Detroit’s Priest, he’d be in real trouble for leaving like this. With Ripper? Notso much. “Yes. There’s a private matter I need to deal with,” he said and sent Andrey a fond glance. He’d attend tothis matterall night.
“Did you find anything we should know of? Killed anyone important?”
“No. Just thugs. No faces I knew.”
“Thanks for the good job tonight. We’ll stay in touch,” Ripper said and disconnected without waiting for an answer.
With the cab eerily quiet, Grim stole another glance at Andrey’s stumps. They were dirty. Maybe he could wash them for Andrey? Rub soap over that smooth skin, carry him into a bathtub ...
It was high time to get himself sorted out, and as soon as Grim reached a small rest stop between the trees, he parked the truck. “You must be hungry,” he said and pulled his shirt over his head. He couldn’t help a smirk when Andrey’s pupils went wider. Grim had a body most gay guys wanted in their bed at least once in their life, and he knew that damn well.
“I could eat.” Andrey frowned slightly.
Grim nodded and passed Andrey his shirt. “I’ll take you to a real American diner. Would you like that?”
Andrey looked at the shirt for a moment and then smelled it. “Will there be many people? Maybe we’d be better off staying in the woods?”
Grim frowned. “I don’t have any food on me. Don’t worry, most people around here are harmless.” He opened the door and slid out into the cool night air. “Use that to clean yourself up. I need to change.”
“Ah! Okay!” Andrey slapped his forehead and quickly rubbed the dirt off his skin, but Grim couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction that Andrey’s first thought was to smell the fabric that had earlier clung to Grim’s body.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised and ran to the back, swiftly climbing into the bed of the truck. All his belongings were stored in the various bags attached to the bike. The clothes he had prepared for after the raid were in one of the saddlebags, so he collected them along with wet wipes and deodorant and walked out into the moonlight, dropping them on the asphalt. He needed to look especially dashing for Andrey if he wanted to charm him. He knew Andrey was already appreciative of being saved, but Grim didn’t want just gratitude. He pulled out some wipes and started cleaning the sweat off his body and face.
When he took his pants off, he glanced up and smiled to himself when he noticed Andrey watching him in the side mirror of the truck. Of course, he would. Grim was a catch, and Andrey didn’t even know yet just how lucky he was.
Chapter 3
Misha
The colorful neon light of the diner was a surreal presence, and Misha couldn’t help but feel like he was watching it on TV. When a whole group of people stumbled outside, laughing and being too loud, his stomach clenched. Just because he was out of the compound, just because Gary was dead, didn’t mean he was free. There were many things in the world much worse than Gary, and Misha wouldn’t be letting his guard down around Grim only because the man was handsome. A pretty face and sweet words meant nothing when Misha knew all too well that Grim was capable of murder.
Another surreal thing about all this was that merely hours after being taken from Gary’s apartment, he was sitting in a booth with a guy that might have been a Tom of Finland model. Dressed in black leather, Grim showed off both the muscle and the harmonious shape of his body, but Misha couldn’t help but look at his face despite feeling uneasy. It was symmetrical and chiseled, as if it came from the hand of a skilled sculptor. The sleek, retro-looking haircut with a side parting only strengthened the impression Grim was making on Misha as he looked at him over the table with piercing grey eyes.
Everything around Misha seemed too loud, too crisp, too easygoing. All these people had no idea what kind of world lived beneath the surface of their society. Every time the waitress walked past them, Misha slid closer to the window, with his heart as jumpy as a baby rabbit.
Misha looked at the menu again, overwhelmed by the choice. For the past four years, he’d eaten whatever he’d been given, so how was he to choose what he was up for?
“Do you have a favorite?” he asked Grim in the end, remembering that Gary was always happy when Misha asked for the same pizza he wanted to have.
Grim leaned back and slurped on his coffee. “You can order whatever you like. A starter, the main, then dessert,” he said with a wide grin. “Do you eat meat?”
Was this a trick question? Maybe behind that handsome façade hid a cannibal? Misha had seen more than he would have wished to in the compound. “Yes, I’m not fussy. You?” Food was really not on Misha’s mind despite the grumbling in his stomach. He needed to know who exactly Grim was, where he wanted to take him, and what he wanted to do to him. The waitress put the silverware in front of Misha, and the knife ended up too close to his forearm, so distracting that he folded a napkin over the blade, which was shiny with the potential for violence.
Grim smiled. “Have you ever seen a cow slaughtered? The other animals in the room cower in the corners, because they know what the screams mean. I don’t eat any mammals, no animals that are like us.”
Misha’s heart skipped a beat despite Grim’s words, and he scolded himself in his mind. Grim was no friend, and the only thing he liked about Misha was the stumps. Not to mention that he was dangerous, ruthless, and Misha needed to get away from him, not check him out. It was baffling that Grim didn’t mind shooting Gary dead but cared about cows being terrified of slaughter. Misha needed to make a note of that. Use whatever information he could get on Grim.
