Rainbow by K.L. Savage

It’s been a full twelve hours of Baton Rouge getting fucked by this hurricane, and the storm doesn’t seem to be letting up. It moved slowly across the ocean, and it’s taking its time across the city, too. Cell service is down, power is out, and who knows how many people need my help. Ryan’s, too.

And all we can do is wait.

Luckily, I’m not alone.

I have Ryan here.

And it’s bliss.

I’m lying on my back staring up at the ceiling while a sleeping Ryan is curled against my side. I’m thinking about our sex.

Our exceptional, best-experience-of-my-life sex. I think about what my parents would say if I told them I was dating a man. I know they wouldn’t react like Ryan’s parents did. They wouldn’t disown me. Knowing my mom, she would want to make dinner and meet him. My dad would be supportive too and ask him to come camping with us or something. Dad loved the outdoors.

A pang in my chest hits, stealing my breath. I miss them so much. They were the best parents a kid could have asked for. They wouldn’t have been mad for a second if I was gay. They would have loved me.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Ryan props himself onto my chest and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Those green irises are full of concern, and as I stare at him, the more lost I get. He has a golden rim around his pupil, and it fades into the mossy green evenly.

Fucking gorgeous.

And the lashes?

Don’t get me started. They’re long and curly, and right now, they’re blinking up at me as if I hold the answers to the universe.

“Just thinking about my parents,” I answer honestly. He’s been upfront with me, but that’s one subject I haven’t been able to talk to him about just yet.

“Don’t be mad at him, but Mime told me your parents died in a fire?”

“He did?” That surprises me. He doesn’t like mentioning them either.

“When we were looking for you. Well, and Jokester translated. He said that’s why you became a smokejumper.”

I nod. “Yeah, it is. I saw them dying. I tried to get them out, but the door was jammed. The metal was hot. A tree had fallen from the other side of the road, and it was on fire. I was seventeen and Greer—sorry—Mime was fifteen. I felt like it was up to me to save everyone, but I couldn’t get them out of the car. They burned alive.”

“Oh,” he gasps.

“I heard their screams as I ran to my brother, and we dashed into the woods. The fire was gaining on us and eventually, I couldn’t go on anymore. Too much smoke. And the smokejumpers came and saved us.”

Ryan sniffles as he presses a kiss to the middle of my chest. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that when you were so young. Where did this happen?”

“California.”

“I never would have guessed since you have a twang to your accent.”

“Well, I’ve lived here since I was eighteen. The money we got from our parents gave us just enough for us to get away, and I packed us up and moved us as far away as possible. They tried to put us in foster care, but I only had less than four months before turning eighteen. I wasn’t going to have the world separate my brother and me. I know what happens in foster homes and wasn’t going to allow that to happen to him. So, we ran and came here. I worked odd jobs and then got a job at a bar, and that’s how I met Jokester. He’d just taken over this chapter in Baton Rouge. He was young and needed new members, and my brother and I needed a family. We needed a place to be. So, we’ve been here ever since.”

“Does Mime not talk because of what happened to your parents?”

I nod. “I think so. It was traumatic. He just wouldn’t talk to anyone the next day. I thought he was processing, you know? I figured he’d come around, but days turned to weeks, then months, then years, and it was just the new reality. He hasn’t spoken a word since. That’s alright. I understand him, and anyone who doesn’t can take it up with me.”

“He’s sweet. A bit softer at heart than the rest of you.”

“He isn’t weak,” I snap at Ryan. It’s more out of habit than anger.

“Hey, I know that. He’s different in a great way. I didn’t mean to offend you.” His soft, slim fingers slide under my chin and turn my head, so I have to look at him.

“I’m so used to defending him. I’m sorry. People think because he doesn’t talk that he’s this weak person, but he’s so damn smart, and yes, I know, he is more emotional and dependent on me. We’re all we have. I need him just as much as he needs me.”

“I wish I had a family like that.” Ryan presses his cheek against my chest and stares at the wall. “I’m from California too, you know.”

“That right? Look at us. We have so much in common.”

He giggles and buries his face against me.

“I love that sound.” I run my fingers through his hair. Then, a huge crack of thunder rattles the house, startling him. He jumps against me, and his heart is pounding so hard I can feel the pulse against my stomach while he lies on me. “I got you. What part of California?” I change the subject in hopes it calms him.

“Napa Valley.”

I whistle. “Damn, okay. So your family is rich.”

“Filthy—and having a gay son doesn’t conform to their agenda.”

“Well, you conform to mine.” I flip him over and tickle his sides.

“Ah! No, no, no. Rainbow… Rainbow!” he squeals and tries to kick me off him with his legs, but it doesn’t work. I’m stronger, and his sides are very ticklish and sensitive. His face turns red as he gulps for breath, laughing so hard he has tears coming out of his eyes.

I love his smile. It’s big and bright, like a ray of sunshine. I’d bet anything he hasn’t smiled nearly as much as he deserves to.

The wind outside begins to die down and the door to the bedroom bursts open, snapping the lock.

“What the fuck?” I shout and grab the blanket in time to cover us.

“Church. Now.” Jokester’s words simmer beneath his anger. I’ve heard that tone before. Jokester is barely keeping his wits about him. “Ryan, you too.” He slams the door, but it doesn’t shut, and it bounces back open since it’s broken.

“That doesn’t sound promising. Did I do something? What if he’s going to kick me out and he thinks I’m lying about someone trying to drown me in the tub? I swear, it happened, Ryan. I wouldn’t lie.”

“He isn’t kicking you out. Something else had to have happened. He’s fucking pissed, though. Let’s get dressed.” I reach under the bed and grab the bag I packed him when I went to his motel.

He peeks inside. “You packed me a bag? And here I am wearing your clothes.”

“You look good in my clothes.” I slide on the pair of shorts that are pooled at the end of the bed, then open the drawer to tug on a Ruthless Kings Baton Rouge shirt, and stare at the old raggedy one beneath it.

Rowdy’s was a bar we used to own a few years back. Unfortunately, it was destroyed by another hurricane. I loved that bar. We haven’t rebuilt either, and I don’t know if we will.

“Well, your clothes fall off me.” He slips on a pair of tight yoga pants that show the curve of his ass.

“No fucking way,” I growl at him.

“What?”

“No fucking way are you wearing that. My eyes only.” I point to the round peach.

He jerks on his shirt next. A cute light pink crop top hangs off his shoulder and shows the smooth skin of his stomach, including that sexy belly ring.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Wearing what I want to wear. You aren’t the boss of me.” Ryan throws his hands on his hip, giving me that sass I love so much.

“You might want to rethink that, Sassafras.” I let my eyes roam over him, head to toe, from his sleep-tasseled hair to the tight pants hugging his legs.

I’m the luckiest damn man in the world.

“I’ll bend you over later and remind you who’s boss.” I bring my hand down on his ass and watch the slight jiggle. “Jesus, you’re going to be the death of me. Let’s go.” I keep my hand on his cheek and grunt in frustration as we step over the broken pieces of trim on the floor.

The floor space is open. We don’t have many hallways, so it’s just a quick walk to the living room. It takes us three steps before we enter the living room and there are candles flickering and flashlights pointing to the ceiling. Everyone is sitting either on the oversized sectional couch—or, if you’re like Hound, you decide to sit on the pool table, popping sunflower seeds into your mouth.

“What’s going on?” We inch further into the quiet room. There’s a body in the middle of the floor, and the first thing I do is look around for my brother.

I let out a breath of relief when I see him sitting on the edge of the couch. He’s whittling a piece of wood. Something he does when he’s thinking.

Ryan immediately falls into paramedic mode and leaves my side to check on the person.

“Don’t bother. He’s dead,” Jokester says, striking a match and lighting a joint by the smell of it.

“What the fuck happened?” Ryan grunts as he flips the guy over. None of us recognize the man dead on our floor.

“He was delivered to our doorstep wrapped in plastic.” Lye pinches the joint as Jokester passes it to him.

“In this weather? No,” Ryan explains. “He’s cold.”

“Dead bodies usually are,” Teller points out.

Ryan rolls his eyes. “No shit. I mean, he’s ice-cold, to the touch. He’s been dead for at least a few days and put on ice. How he got here, I don’t know.” Ryan notices something on the man’s arm and turns it over, frowning when he sees a rainbow flag tattooed on the victim’s skin. “I’d say it’s a hate crime. Someone isn’t happy with people who are gay.”

“You know, we didn’t have shit like this happen before you showed up,” Grudge comments.

Cosmo snorts. “It didn’t happen like this, but it does happen. Don’t think I haven’t heard my fair share of jokes from you assholes. Baton Rouge isn’t exactly San Francisco, either.”

“I didn’t know the jokes bothered you,” Jokester frowns.

“No one asked.” Cosmo inhales on the hookah in front of him, tilts his head back, and blows out a cloud of smoke. “I’m used to it. After all, I’ve proven myself. I’ve earned my place.”

“Still cold,” Ryan mumbles to himself. “There’s no way he could have been transported. He had to come from somewhere close by.”

Everyone begins to talk at once, a loud hum of conversation that can’t be understood. Mime covers his ears.

Jokester whistles and immediately everyone quiets down. “Okay, okay. Settle down. Ryan, are you saying one of my men did this?”

“Um, uh,” Ryan stutters, then exhales a deep breath. “I don’t know. I don’t want to point fingers.”

“You said someone tried to drown you while you bathed, right? Could be the same guy,” Jokester postulates.

“Someone tried to drown you. No fucking way. Not one of us.” Fox is the first to become defensive. “We aren’t the kind of club to discriminate.”

“Please, there are always people who have limits, Fox.” Cosmo throws his hair in a messy bun and shakes his head. “I’m just saying, people can always surprise you.”

Jokester takes a survey of everyone in the room, and with how his mouth is moving, he’s saying everyone’s name to himself. “Where the hell are Sherlock and Puzzle?”

“Probably off planning our demise,” Compass glowers, and Cactus slaps him on the chest. “Ow, what? I’m just saying they hate everyone. It isn’t a secret.”

Jokester rubs his eyes stressfully. “Lye, get rid of the body.”

“You got it, Prez.” Lye bends down and freezes when he stares at the dead guy on the floor. “Wait a minute, I know him.” He pushes a piece of black hair out of the guy’s face, and Lye glances away.

“Who is he?”

“He’s a rent boy. His name was Callum.”

Everyone wants to ask how Lye knows a rent boy, but no one does. It’s clear whatever Lye knows, he wants to keep it to himself. “He was a good kid. Only nineteen.” Lye bends down and picks him up, cradling him softly to his chest. “He deserves more than this.” Lye disappears into the darkness while he walks across the warehouse to go downstairs where he keeps his supplies.

We call him Lye for a reason.

It’s what he uses to dispose of the bodies. There is never a trace left.

“Someone fucking find Sherlock and Puzzle. Right. Fucking. Now!” Jokester yells so loud that it shakes the house just like the thunder does. “I better not see any of your fucking faces until I see one of them. Got it?”

“Yes, Prez.” We all answer at once, and I know I’m not the only one that feels like I just got lashed with a whip.

“Ryan—” Jokester gets his attention, and Ryan pushes off the floor to get to his feet.

I help him and bring him to sit down as everyone disperses from the room. The heavy thumps of boots echoing get further away until the room is silent.

“Who do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been here long enough to know anyone.”

“Anyone rub you the wrong way? Say anything to set you off?”

Ryan bites on his bottom lip. I can tell he wants to say something but is choosing not to.

“Baby? Is someone bothering you? Who?” I slip my fingers through his and spin him around to face me.

He looks over his shoulder to Jokester as the Prez puffs on his joint. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”

“—Ryan, I just had a dead gay kid dropped at my doorstep because he knew one of us. I fear we might all be in danger. Who? Tell me, or I’ll punish you in front of your Ol’ Man,” Jokester threatens Ryan, and at the same time, I puff my chest out with pride when he refers to me that way.

I jerk Ryan behind me and sneer, “You won’t fucking touch him.”

“I’ll do what I have to, to figure out who’s killing innocent boys! Do not fucking question me, VP.” Jokester stands and shoves my chest. “We have a few men here, besides you and Ryan, who are gay or bi. I won’t allow them to be in harm’s way because he’s afraid.”

“He’s afraid of you,” I spit at him. “You’re acting insane.”

“I’m acting how I need to. This isn’t fucking Wonderland. This is Baton Rouge, and this my fucking Clubhouse. I don’t care what I have to do to get answers.”

I look away from Prez, chest heaving as I try to get myself under control before I kill Prez myself for threatening Ryan the way he did.

Ryan.

He’s trembling behind me. “It was Puzzle. He made an off-handed comment, but I didn’t think anything of it. It was when we were about to leave to see if you were okay,” he says to me. I can hear the emotion lumping in his throat.

Puzzle.

“I just wanted to make sure.”

“For what?” Ryan peeps around my shoulder to ask Jokester.

Prez takes out his blade and tsks. “You don’t really want to know, kid.”

And it’s true.

Ryan would be scarred for life if he ever found out Jokester liked to play with his victims first, teasing them with the blade for hours around their mouths but never cutting them.

He likes to give them hope. And then he snatches it away, carving a frown down their face. He starts from the edge of the lips working his way down either side of the throat, cutting along the jugular veins.

That’s how they die. They bleed out.

And they are forever scarred into the afterlife, never being able to smile again.

“A hurricane turns into a fucking murder mystery. You two, stay here. I’ll be back.” Jokester points at us and Ryan inches around to my other side to get as far away from Prez as possible.

“What do you think he would have done?”

I spin around and pick Ryan up, then sit down on the sofa. He clings to me, and I need him to. I need him close and to make sure he’s okay. He isn’t. He’s shaking.

“We’ll figure this out,” I tell him.

I don’t care if I have to kill Puzzle myself.

No one threatens what is mine.