His Favorite Color is Blood - Coffin Nails MC (gay biker dark romance) (Sex & Mayhem Book 8) (27 page)

“Yes. Everything’s fine. I don’t
have much experience with lovers’ quarrels.”

Priest chuckled and shook his
head. “And you, little guy?”

Grim couldn’t help a smirk, but
Misha wasn’t impressed. “I’m not
little.
I’m short because I have no
fucking legs!”

Priest raised his hands. “Okay,
okay,” he said and disappeared behind the door again.

Grim shook his head. “He’s
letting us stay here. He offers us protection. Show some respect.”

Misha took a deep breath and couldn’t
look into Grim’s eyes. “Can you help me up the stairs, please?” he muttered in
the end.

Grim scooted down in front of
Misha and stroked his knee. “Sure. Embrace me.”

Misha’s face was painted with
guilt, and he shifted forward in the wheelchair to wrap his arms around Grim’s
neck. “I’m not that used to being allowed to speak my mind, so I don’t know
when to stop sometimes,” he whispered.

Grim’s mouth widened in a smile,
and he slid his arms around Misha, hugging him with relief flooding his
muscles. “You’ll learn,” he said and pulled Misha up, grabbing him by the ass.

“I’m so stressed out. Every
minute Dennis spends with Zero is a minute where he could be hurting, and it’s
all my fault. And if we don’t get that video done, he’ll probably kill him, and
he won’t stop hunting me.” Misha hugged Grim back, and only now that Grim held
him, he realized Misha was trembling all over.

He looked at the empty lounge
helplessly and leaned his head against Misha’s. “There were people who hurt Coy
because he was defenseless. I don’t want to be that. I’m not a good man, but I
don’t want to be that,” he whispered.

Misha kissed Grim’s ear. “Help me
take him, and I’ll … d-do what needs to be done.”

Grim took a deep breath and
tightened his arms around Misha, pushing him against the wall, not to let go.
Grim’s heart galloped without warning, leaving him confused and with a scorch
inside his skull. “All right.”

“We’ll try again tomorrow, okay?”
Misha squeezed his thighs around Grim and stroked his nape. “I’m sorry I yelled
at you.”

Grim leaned back to look at him,
unsure what he could say. He felt so naked and out of his depth for once. “I
hated that. It’s not like you.”

“I know. I’m still trying to find
out who I am now, and it will take a while. Am I a quiet nerd who enjoys gaming
and sudoku, am I the sexy amputee porn star who takes it up the ass every
Tuesday, or am I a Russian immigrant who likes birdwatching from a blanket? I
don’t know which parts are real sometimes.”

Slowly, Grim started moving up
the stairs, his eyes focused on Misha and his heart in his throat. “They are
all true. Well, you’re not a porn star anymore, but you are very sexy, and you
can take me every Tuesday. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

“I guess. I just need to piece
myself back together.” Misha leaned away to open the door. “Thank you for not
dumping me yet. I’m struggling with containing my emotions sometimes.”

Grim walked in and shut the door
with his foot, slowly carrying Misha to the bed. “I’m not gonna dump you.
You’re irreplaceable.”

“It’s just that you’re doing so
much for me, and I don’t have a lot I can give in return.”

“That’s not true. You’re letting
me save you,” whispered Grim, gently lying Misha down and leaning over him,
trapped between the need to fetch the wheelchair and the sweetness of Misha’s
warm body.

Misha gave Grim a shy smile and
stroked his arm. “Thank you. It seems that I say that a lot, but I’m guessing
you don’t mind.”

Grim smiled and gave Misha a peck
on the nose. “No. I like it.”

“And you don’t mind carrying me
around. I bet that would get old fast for most guys.” Misha took a deep breath,
and Grim was happy to see him so much calmer.

A few inches lower, and Grim was
slowly trailing kisses down Misha’s jaw, exhilarated by his closeness. “No. I
want to always help you.”

Someone banged on their door. “Is
that your wheelchair lying around?” Blitz. “Milk is goofing off in it in the
lounge. Just so you know.”

Misha groaned and put his hands
over his face. “Christ.”

Grim rolled his eyes. “Ah, we’re
kinda busy right now. I’d appreciate it if you stored it somewhere safe for
me.”

Blitz’s footsteps sounded as if
he was stomping on purpose to let Grim know what he thought of that.

“Grim … Please get my wheelchair.
It’s not a toy,” said Misha, making that irresistible sad-pout face.

Grim rested his face in the crook
of Misha’s neck and groaned. “Fine,” he said in the end and pushed himself up.

“It’ll all be better tomorrow,”
Misha offered with a kiss to the top of Grim’s head. He’d rather get a kiss to
his
cock
head instead.

Grim petted Misha’s leg before
getting to his feet. “Find something on TV? I’ll be right back.”

Misha smiled. “Don’t be too long.
I’m out of sudoku.”

Chapter 22 – Misha

Misha watched the pedophile’s living
room from his safe spot in the car across the street. Tonight, everything would
go as planned—even if the thought of having to torture and murder the man
turned Misha’s stomach. Grim had been restless since yesterday, probably upset
about his own reactions to their target’s disability, and it made Misha realize
that enough was enough. Grim couldn’t shoulder the weight of the world for him.
It was Misha who had enticed Dennis, and it was Misha who got Zero back over
their heads. He was also the one to burn that flash drive out of cowardice and
slap Grim when all he’d been told was the truth. Amputee. Victim. Those words
would not define him for the rest of his life, and he needed to show Grim he
could be so much more. That he
could
take action.

His breath caught in his throat
when Grim’s dark figure loomed in the dim hallway at the back of their target’s
living room. Tall and agile, he clung to the wall as he neared Tomas, whom
Misha couldn’t see from where he was. His mouth was dry with stress. What had
he gotten himself into? Grim had been so upset about having to kill a disabled
guy that it seemed logical for Misha to propose doing it himself, but now that
he slept on it, the perspective of ending someone’s life was curling around his
chest and squeezing the air out of him. He would do it though. He needed to
stop depending on Grim all the time.

The moment Grim stepped into the
light, something moved, and he fell down like a log, stunning Misha out of
breath.

Something was wrong. Terribly
wrong. Was there another person inside? Misha heard no gunshots, so what could
have hit Grim so hard? This couldn’t be happening. Misha looked to the backseat
and the wheelchair stored in there. There was no time to get it out.

He opened the car door and put
the gun he received from Grim into the front pocket of his hoodie. He cringed
at the asphalt road in front of him but quickly slid down from the cab. He
might be incapable of running, but with a gun in hand, he could at least hold
someone at gunpoint or even shoot them in the worst-case scenario. But if he
wanted to help Grim out, he needed to get to him in the first place.

The asphalt was rough against
Misha’s bare skin, but he knew there was no choice and rushed on all fours,
banging his knees against the hard surface with each movement. His body was
yelling at him with the thought that he could simply get to his feet, that his
feet were there to support him, but it was just a phantom feeling, and he
gritted his teeth in fear. He could practically hear the clock ticking as it
counted seconds that remained of Grim’s life.

Blood rushed into his head, and
the unkept front yard of Tomas’s house couldn’t get closer quick enough. When
Misha looked into the window in the hope of seeing the familiar face, all he
noticed was the light that suddenly went out. His brain flooded with images of
Grim shot, strangled, or stabbed, bleeding out on the floor of that Goddamn house,
and he couldn’t care less about scraping his knees over a fucking gravel path.
How could he have even suggested for Grim to be doing this on his behalf? Had they
really reached the point of no return? Maybe Misha needed to disappear, make
contact with Zero, and give himself up, before he managed to ruin Grim’s life.

He was almost at the door, and if
Tomas were to escape, he would have to come out through here, as the back door was
too small for a wheelchair. Unless he was still in the living room stabbing
Grim time after time to make sure he was dead. A panicked sob left Misha’s
throat, but he fought through the shivering in his limbs and pushed on,
ignoring the gravel tearing into his skin.

He climbed up the wooden ramp at
the side of the stairs to the porch and reached for the handle when a male
voice tore into his brain from behind the door. It wasn’t Grim’s, but the sound
was getting closer with each word that Misha had trouble comprehending with the
buzz of stress at the forefront of his brain.

He backed off and pulled out his
gun, quickly taking off the safety. If this fucker hurt Grim, he’d die
now
.
Not on a fucking video for sadistic perverts.

The door banged against the outer
wall as it opened, and the black wheelchair rolled toward the ramp, but the
moment Tomas’s bright eyes focused on the barrel of Misha’s gun, his face went
tense, his body slumping, as if all hope drained from his body.

“Why are you doing this? I don’t
have anything you might want. I’ve been through so much, let me go!”

When Misha looked into the
middle-aged man’s glossy eyes and saw his panicked red face, his desire to kill
Tomas for hurting Grim faltered, but his grip on the gun didn’t. Misha had met
men with pleasant faces before. Men who looked a lot like the nice uncle who
frequently visited Misha’s home when he was a kid. But somehow, those men were
nothing like his uncle and had no mercy in pushing Misha face down and raping
him.

“Stay put and shut up, or I will
shoot you,” he said, surprising himself by how steady his voice was.

Tomas shuddered, squeezing his
hands on the wheels, as if there was still hope for him.

The moan coming from inside the
house had Misha longing to crawl inside and look for Grim right away, but when
Grim spoke up, it became clear he wasn’t dead yet.

“Fucking hell. Get that fucker
inside!”

“You heard him. Inside.” Misha
pointed at the corridor with his head, never taking the barrel off his target.
He didn’t care if Tomas cried. Tomas deserved to suffer for all he’d done to
the kids who became his victims.

Tomas squeezed his mouth shut and
started backtracking, followed by Misha, who crawled slowly but made sure never
to leave Tomas out of sight. He kicked the door shut, and they finally entered
the living room, where Grim rushed to Tomas’s side and stuck the needle of a
small syringe into his neck. Their victim's body went limp immediately, his
eyes rolling back.

Misha let out a long sigh and put
the safety on the gun before sagging to the floor. It was as if the energy
fueling his body leaked out through a giant hole. “Are you all right?”

Grim moved his hand over his
stomach. Something was stuck to the front of his shirt. “Fucker had a stun
gun,” he said, wincing.

Misha moved closer on all fours,
instantly alert. “Are you in pain? Do you need to go to a hospital?”

Grim scowled. “No, but there are
fucking hooks in my skin.” He looked up, and for once, tension seemed to leave
his body. “Help?”

“What? Show me.” Misha got close
with a frown. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how these work. I was so scared when I
saw you down.”

“That fucker was waiting for me.
He must have noticed there was something fishy going on yesterday,” muttered
Grim, slowly uncovering his stomach where two wires stuck out of his flesh. “At
least he didn’t get me in the dick.”

Misha snorted, overcome with so
much relief that he couldn’t stop laughing once he started. “Your dick is so
big it’s hard to miss.” He looked at the nasty little hooks from up close and
started gently pulling them out by changing the angle several times. Grim’s abs
moved beneath his touch, and they were both relieved once he was done.

“Thanks,” said Grim and rolled
the wires, pushing them along with the gun itself into an empty bag of crisps
that he took from the sofa. “Can you cuff him?” he asked, quickly getting to
his feet and out of the living room.

Misha nodded and ignored the pain
in his knees when he moved back to Tomas and pulled the man’s arms behind his
back.

He could hear some splashing, but
the moment he was done with the handcuffs, Grim returned with the front of his
black top clinging to his body. “Can’t believe he got me like that.”

“I’m sorry. This was a bad idea.
I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

Grim glanced at him, and a brief
smile ghosted across his lips. “Let’s go and deal with this,” he said and
pushed the wheelchair back into the corridor.

Misha followed Grim in silence, set
on not complaining about his knees. There were much worse things to come tonight.

*

Misha’s knees stung, and there
were even smudges of torn skin that he could see in the semi-darkness as Grim
drove through disused grounds covered by weeds and grass with occasional
patches of trees on the horizon. The solid shape of the abandoned paper factory
loomed in front of them, much darker than the city-lit sky. They had a man in
the trunk, and Misha would be the one to end his life. Somehow, after the
attack on Grim, this perspective seemed mildly less horrible.

Grim was silent for most of the
drive, watching the ill-kept asphalt with holes emerging from the darkness and
into the reach of their headlights. Despite the weird moment of humor back at
the house, Misha’s nerves were like electricity wires, ready to spark if the
wrong thing touched them. Grim had shown him the knives Misha could use during
the filming, but that didn’t make him any less uncomfortable. He longed for the
peace they shared at Grim’s home in the forest, for being together with Grim
without the constant pressure and fear.

When they reached the open gate
of the factory, Grim drove past the fence and stopped the car by the largest
building on the grounds, where the production must had taken place. The moment
the engine stilled, Grim leaned back in the seat and took a few deep breaths.
“All right. We’re here. There’s no other vehicles.”

“And it’s a safe, secluded space,
right?” Misha opened the door to have a better look.

Apart from the large hall, there
was an old house that must have been built at the turn of the century and a
block-like building that could have contained office spaces and common areas
where the workers might have had their lunches. Right now though, it all seemed
desolate. It even smelled of rot.

“Should be,” said Grim and left
the car, walking around it to approach from Misha’s side.

“How long will he be out?” Misha
pointed to the trunk of their car. This whole thing was surreal. How did he get
here?

Grim opened the door and reached
inside to pick up Misha. “We still have some time. Those tranquilizers can put
a horse to sleep,” he said, pulling Misha into the air and into the safety of
Grim’s embrace. Misha was quick to wrap his arms around Grim’s neck and
breathed in the scent of his cologne, which at this point was like a calming
potion for Misha’s agitated senses. Just a few whiffs and the heat of his
lover’s body were enough to make him feel so much better.

“I do care about getting to Zero.
I do want him dead,” he confessed with a heavy heart. “I just wish that didn’t
entail putting you in danger.”

Grim looked at Misha, his eyes
catching the moonlight as they became completely focused. “I’m in danger all
the time, birdie,” he said and used his free hand to open the door to the back
seat.

“But this is different. This is
because of me. What are you doing?” he asked when Grim put him down on the
backseat instead of reaching for the wheelchair, but Grim’s frown told him to
stay still. A second later, Grim’s warm, rough fingers traced the abrasions on
Misha’s knee.

“I’m so sorry. I should have
noticed earlier, but I was too distracted.”

Misha looked down to the shallow
wounds in surprise and glanced at his roughened palms as well. “It’s nothing.
You got it much worse.”

“I should have thought about it,”
insisted Grim and crouched in front of Misha, pressing his lips to Misha’s
knee, his fingers skimming up the stump.

Misha went still and clenched his
thighs. After all that Grim went through because of him, he was still there to
care for him. “I’m scared,” he whispered, watching another tender kiss land on
his dirty knee.

Grim looked up at him and sought
Misha’s hand in the darkness. “Of what?”

Misha grabbed Grim’s hard and
squeezed it, already nervous and sweating. “That this night will change me.”

Grim looked up at him and slowly
rose, leaning inside the car as he nuzzled Misha’s face. “It probably will.”

Misha swallowed, put his hands on
Grim’s cheeks, and pulled him into a kiss he so desperately needed. “But you
will be with me.”

Grim’s breath trembled as he
pressed his lips against Misha’s. “Every step of the way, my sweet bird.”

Even the pain in Misha’s hands
was dulled when they kissed. When Grim’s tongue explored Misha’s, pain in the
past and present started becoming a blur, because all that mattered was being
in the moment with his Logan.

Grim pushed him back on the seat
and climbed inside, spreading his strong body on top of Misha’s. His tongue
rolled into Misha’s mouth, robbing him of breath as their hips collided,
sending sparks of pleasure all over their bodies.

“Missed you so bad,” rasped Grim,
brushing his thumb over Misha’s lips.

Misha couldn’t have put it into
words any better. He’d been so stressed, so exhausted from traveling, from
being found by Zero, and even from the stupid arguments he’d been having with
Grim in the last few days. Every day had felt like drifting away from Grim, and
he needed to reconnect as badly as he needed sleep after all this was over.