His Favorite Color is Blood - Coffin Nails MC (gay biker dark romance) (Sex & Mayhem Book 8) (3 page)

“Are we out?” Andrey whispered
despite it being just them in the truck.

Grim nodded but drove farther,
knowing he needed to drive past the local Coffin Nails clubhouse before he
could unpack his prize in peace. The border with Mississippi was within reach,
but he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to wait such a long time before he got his
hands on Andrey. The bird was clearly scared, and Grim needed a break too.

Andrey was breathtaking the way
he looked now, curled up, with what was left of his calves dragging over the
clean mat on the floor, small enough to disappear from view and hide from the
men who could take him away from Grim.

“We’re not safe yet, but you can
get back into the seat. Whatever happens, I’ll handle it.”

Andrey slowly crawled back into
the seat, and his heavy breaths filled the cab. “I don’t have anything. My
wheelchair was left behind …”

Grim smiled, quickly pulled off
the mask, and shook his head. He knew he didn’t look his best now—with shiny
skin and sweaty hair—but it was the best he could do in those circumstances.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you a new one.”

Grim enjoyed the way Andrey
stalled. “Generous, strong, brave … and handsome? Guess I’ve hit the jackpot,
right?” He laughed, but it sounded nervous, and Grim didn’t miss the way Andrey
clutched the seatbelt at his chest.

He squeezed Andrey’s shoulder,
trying to communicate his good intentions, his support, and his strength.
“Relax. I won’t let anything happen to you. They’d have to walk over my dead
body,” he promised.

Andrey went silent for a while.
“I don’t have any ID. Don’t let the police stop us, okay?”

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 usual
modus 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? Not so much. “Yes. There’s a
private matter I need to deal with,” he said and sent Andrey a fond glance.
He’d attend to
this matter
all 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.

“Fishburger sounds nice.” Misha
stared at the menu, trying not to think the man next to him had seen him fucked
dozens of times. Having clothes on didn’t make Misha feel any less naked. This
had to be the most awkward dinner in the history of humanity. They were just
sitting here and talking about food when Misha’s whole life hung by a thread.
Grim could do anything to him, and no one would ever find out.

Grim’s eyebrows shot up, and he
squinted at Misha, setting his nerves on fire. “Not a popular choice in these
parts, but it’s always better than munching on some innocent bull. Am I right?”

Misha licked his lips. “I used to
eat a lot of seafood when I was younger.” He desperately looked at the menu. “I
could have eggs if you want me to. Is a fishburger a bad choice?” He needed to
work out what made Grim tick, and he needed to do that fast.

Grim laughed. He
laughed
.
As if being carried into a restaurant by another man, with his naked stumps on
display, hadn’t been humiliating enough for Misha. But when Grim looked into
his eyes, there was no malice on his face. “I told you to order whatever you
like. I’m happy you can see where I’m coming from.”

Misha took a deep breath.
Clearly, the
order whatever you like
bit only applied as long as Misha
chose Grim-approved foods. “I’ll take the fishburger.” If he weren’t so scared,
he would tell Grim what he thought about this freaky pseudo-date. Grim’s pretty
eyes didn’t make him any less of a creep. “I’ll have a chance to try other
stuff on the way, right?” Wherever they were heading, he needed to know.

Grim nodded. “Absolutely. I eat
out most of the time anyway. We can go somewhere more ... sophisticated another
time, if you’d like that,” he said, leaning toward Misha, his hand squeezing on
the coffee cup in his hand.

The waitress took their orders,
but when she leaned over to light a sad little candle, Grim backed away
suddenly enough for Misha to notice. He composed himself quickly, asking the
waitress not to bother, but the initial reaction was something Misha would
treasure in his mind for later.

“So … how did you find my
website?” Misha asked as uncomfortable silence dawned on them. He needed to
gather intel in the most inoffensive way possible. Until he got a better feel for
who Grim was, he couldn’t tell him a sob story about his life. A “fan” wouldn’t
want that. He’d want the fantasy, the sexy amputee who loved nothing more than
fucking and jerking off for everyone to see.

Grim scratched his head and
looked straight into Misha’s eyes, his gaze soaked with a lust so intense it
scared the shit out of Misha. “I’ve always liked guys who,” he exhaled loudly,
“who have lost something.”

Misha thought he’d seen it all
and he could easily pull through this conversation, but talking to a whole new
person, after over three years of relative safety with Gary, was making his
fingers tremble. “How come?”

Grim lowered his eyes to the cup
and licked his lips, playing with a pendant that peeked out from underneath his
leather vest. It was a round piece of what seemed like translucent glass, with
a tiny bird skull embedded into it. “I just do,” he said in the end. “And you
were so different from the other guys I saw online. Like I had a connection
with you when you commented on movies while eating pizza.”

Misha dared to look into Grim’s
eyes. “You watched that?” Sure, he did those vids in just a pair of underpants,
for extra attention, but Gary would only let him do those as long as he did his
quota of porn. On one hand, the amount of people in the diner was freaking him
out, but on the other, he had missed people while being locked up. Gary would
sometimes print out comments from viewers, and apart from a deluge of horny
guys, there would always be those few actually answering as if Misha were a
human being, not a hot body with two holes, a cock, and stumps.

Grim nodded and drank some more
coffee. “I watched them all. I sometimes rewatch those where you eat while I’m
having dinner in a motel, because it’s kind of nice to have someone around during
a meal. I usually travel on my own.”

That was … strange. But kind of
nice. “Gary is—was—always busy, so I rarely had anyone to talk to.” Misha
wasn’t ready to drop the bomb that he had been kidnapped and held in that room
for years. The mere thought of saying it out loud made him uncomfortable. As if
it would mean admitting to being a pathetic captive, who just went with
whatever people around him wanted. A coward.

“Bullshit. Really?” Grim leaned
back. “If I had you around, I wouldn’t ever want to leave.”

Or“‘never let you leave,”
Misha thought. “I guess everyone gets bored with the novelty after
a while.”

“You’re a person, so by
definition, you can’t just be a novelty. People interact, and something new
always comes out of it,” muttered Grim, seeming lost in his own logic.

Misha raised his eyebrows. Was
Grim trying to butter him up? That would make sense. If you want to get into
the pants of a “porn star” for free, tell them they’re smart and unique, not
that you want to see their ass.

“I’m not very good with people. I
guess that’s why the webcam is okay. I feel more in control.” It wasn’t
complete bullshit. He’d felt more in control making videos for the website than
when he was forced to entertain strangers in his room. And by
entertain
,
he meant sexually.

“I don’t feel uncomfortable,”
said Grim. “You’re very well adjusted for someone who’s been saved from
wolves.”

Misha went silent. Sure, his
circumstances had changed, but had he actually been rescued? He’d only be safe
if he managed to crawl to some cabin in the woods and stay there forever. Then
again, he’d probably starve there, so he was fucked either way. It was still
hard to comprehend that he was out of his room. That he’d seen Gary dead. Maybe
it was adrenaline coursing through his veins and making him so aware of his
surroundings? There was no time to cry or to take a breather. Misha needed to
be in as much control as he possibly could, so when the waitress brought them
food and Grim looked away from him for a moment, Misha snatched a fork from a
basket on the table and slid it into his pocket. He needed a weapon, and he
couldn’t force himself to grab the knife, no matter how much he tried to.

“I think I must be in shock,”
Misha said. He’d been disconnected from the Internet long ago, but he’d watched
hundreds of shows and movies on DVD. That’s what people said on TV.

Grim nodded and reached out
across the table, putting his large, warm hand over Misha’s. It would have been
a nice gesture if it weren’t a prelude to Grim wanting to fuck him. Which could
have been an appealing perspective in some other dimension, but the lack of
choice in the matter made it all too similar to what Misha shared with Gary,
and he never wanted to be in that kind of situation again. Though somewhere at
the back of his mind, he knew he’d have to submit to it if he wanted to live.
He was a coward who wouldn’t fight a big, strong guy like Grim. It didn’t
matter that Grim was the handsomest man to ever be interested in Misha. Grim
wasn’t feeding him a free dinner because he was a nice person.

They spoke about inoffensive
stuff as they ate, Grim gorging on eggs with red sauce and tortillas with a
side of salad, which didn’t seem like the kind of food men like him ate in the
movies. But that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous. Clearly, despite
refusing to eat animals, he had no problem with offing people, so Misha himself
was fair game.

Misha was becoming nauseated as
the meal drew to a close, but there was only so long he could pretend he was
still interested in food. Eventually, Grim picked him up and carried him across
the parking lot to a motel, right next to where they parked the truck. At least
back in his room, Misha could move around on his own, but out in the real
world, his disability was choking and a constant issue. As they approached the
room and Grim fished out the keys, Misha wished he had agreed on an alcoholic
drink. He wanted to keep a crisp mind, especially since he rarely got alcohol
from Gary, so his threshold was probably low, but now, in Grim’s arms, with
both of their hearts beating in a symphony of panic and lust, he wanted to be
drunk for what seemed inevitable.

Grim carried him inside and
switched on the light with his elbow. The room was decent enough with a
king-sized bed and furniture that was a bit beat up, like most of what Misha’s
parents used to own in their tiny apartment, but he’d sleep on the bare floor
if it would save him from unwanted attention.

Grim’s nose brushed against his
temple. “See? Much more space than in your previous room.”

Misha nodded, unable to choke out
a word. At least with Gary, sex had become a routine Misha was acquainted with.
He would generally know how long it would take, what Gary liked, what got him
off faster, and what annoyed him. With Grim, Misha was treading on thin ice.
And then there was the
big
difference, which Misha had anticipated since
Grim put on the leather pants. If it wasn’t a sock in Grim’s pants, then his
dick was
big
. Much bigger than Gary’s. More like the cocks of the porn
stars Misha enjoyed watching. And he’d lie if he were to claim he didn’t want
to see it, though he’d rather see it from afar, without it being a threat.

The sound of the lock was so
final Misha pulled closer to Grim as he was carried all the way to the bed. He
hated not having his wheelchair available. Especially around strangers, it was
so humiliating to be handled like a toddler. Before he’d lost his legs, he was
active. He had played in the cold ocean in the summer, taking his freedom of
movement for granted.

Grim slowly sat him on the bed
and switched on the bedside lamp, while turning off the main light. He was the
most gorgeous monster Misha had ever seen, and that only made this whole thing
worse. There was no way for Misha to just turn off his attraction. Going with
whatever men wanted from him, enjoying it to some extent, was what kept him
alive. Arousal was almost a coping mechanism at this point.