Rainbow by K.L. Savage

Ipop a few Tylenol, hoping it helps with the pain spreading in my back. This storm is nothing like I thought it would be. I never thought it would unhinge a murderer. I knew Puzzle was old school, but I didn’t think he’d ever kill us, and now we’re trapped with nowhere to go, not knowing when he’ll strike next.

To make matters worse, it’s been another few hours since Cosmo’s been missing. There’s no sign of him. That can’t be a good thing. We can’t lose Cosmo. He’s the breath of fresh air the club needs.

Another few hours and all this will be over. The storm will be gone, and eventually, we’ll find Puzzle. He has nowhere else to go. He’s here. I don’t know how he’s evading us, but I’m tired of it. I never would have brought Ryan here if I knew he would’ve been in danger. I trusted Puzzle because I trust everyone in this club, and now Puzzle’s actions have me reassessing everyone.

Since the living room is trashed, everyone is hanging out in the kitchen. Jokester wants us all together. Strength in numbers and all that. It’s one man. How hard can it be to kill one man?

“Are you okay?” Ryan drops a few pillows and blankets at my side before sitting down.

“No. Out of everyone, Sherlock is dead. He could have figured this out already, and you know, maybe he saw something he shouldn’t have with Lye’s friend, and that’s why he’s dead. And he’s just hanging outside getting fucking blasted by this storm. It isn’t right. I didn’t know Puzzle hated us so much.”

“Do we know for sure it’s him?” he asks.

“Who else could it be?”

“I don’t know. I just wish I could fix it for you.” He drops his head against my arm and yawns.

“Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll stay awake. A few of us are on rotation.”

“No, I don’t want to sleep. Wherever Cosmo is, he isn’t sleeping, you know?” He trembles. “What if it was Puzzle in the bedroom?”

“He better fucking hope not.” I tighten the hold around the handle of my gun.

“The winds are dying down, and the river is still a foot below the porch. Grudge. Fox. Go do rounds outside.”

Without questioning Jokester, they get to their feet and throw on heavier coats to protect themselves from the weather.

“I’m going to go use the restroom. I’ll be back.” Ryan stands, and I snag his hand before he can get too far.

“Let me come with you.”

“Are you going to shake it for me?” he snickers. “It’s the bathroom. I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t care. We don’t know what’s going on here. I’m not risking you.” I use the cabinets to push to my feet. I’m so damn tired. It’s times like this where I feel like I’ve lived a thousand lives and I’m ready to hang up my cut. I wonder what it would be like to do something basic. Not having to risk my life every day.

Maybe I can marry Ryan, get a nine-to-five, and I can come home for dinner every night.

Right.

If I had a job working a nine-to-five, I’d be miserable.

I love what I do, and I love the club. So I could never turn my back on them. Plus, if Ryan is going to be my ol’ man—which makes me chuckle internally because I’ve never heard it before—he needs as much protection as possible. I don’t trust his parents not to come back into his life.

I have to get him to stay. He doesn’t belong in Vegas. He belongs here with me.

He’s about to open his loud, beautiful sassy mouth that I’m going to fill later to relieve some of this tension, but my eye drifts behind him.

Blood is smeared on my bedroom door.

I grip him by the arm and tug him backward. I press my fingers to my lips and point to the door to our bedroom.

His face loses all its color, and before I can tell him to, he slips behind me. I ignore the pain as I lift my arm to aim the gun in front of me and step into the room. A few of the candles have gone out, and the darkness makes it hard to see.

I take the brightest candle from the dresser and bite back a sound of annoyance as the hot wax drips onto my hand. Ryan pats my arm and points to the floor.

Blood.

And it’s smeared. As if a body had been dragged.

“Stay here,” I mouth to Ryan while I step inside the bathroom.

My boots slip on the tile, and I catch myself on the wall, my injured shoulder taking the brunt of it. That’s when the candle flickers and the light glow of the flame reflects off the white porcelain tub.

Well, it used to be white.

Blood drips freshly off the edges into the puddle on the floor.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The blood is loud in the silence.

“Oh, fuck.”

Puzzle is lying there, vacant eyes staring at the ceiling. He has shallow cuts all over his body.

But it’s the gashes along his inner arms and neck that killed him.

“Jokester! I found Puzzle,” I shout.

Ryan slips in next to me and gasps. “Oh my god!” He runs to Puzzle’s side, and his feet splash in the red on the floor. He places his fingers against Puzzle’s neck and frowns. “He’s gone. I mean, obviously, he lost too much blood, but I had to check.”

“He’s the guy we thought was doing all this, and you wanted to see if he was okay?”

“Yeah, he’s still a person,” Ryan huffs and crosses his arms. “That a problem?”

“No, Sassafras. Far from it.” It’s one of the many reasons I find myself falling in love with him.

In the middle of panic, Ryan rises to be better.

Jokester pushes his way into the bathroom and punches a hole in the wall when he sees Puzzle. “Damn it!” he roars, continuing to punch the wall until the drywall crumbles to the ground. “If it’s not him, who is it?”

“Jokester! Ryan!” Grudge shouts from the kitchen. Like a stampede, we run out of my bedroom. I’m going to have to burn it and rebuild just to get the scent of blood out of here. Ryan is sliding along the floor, his bare feet covered in Puzzle’s blood, and he swings around the corner.

Grudge’s eyes are practically black with rage. He’s flexing and unflexing his muscles to calm down as he and Fox step inside. Fox is holding his shoulder, with blood seeping through his fingers.

“Fox! Fox, no, no, no. Ryan, please,” Hound begs Ryan to help his best friend.

“I’m fine, Hound. It’s just a flesh wound. Don’t be so dramatic,” Fox grunts.

“Jesus, you guys drop like flies.” Ryan winces as he cuts another shirt open. “No offense.”

“Feels that way,” Fox mutters.

“Puzzle is dead. Just found him in Rainbow’s bathtub. And Sherlock is dead. Someone shot you,” Jokester begins listing off the attacks. “The rent boy is dead. I’m starting to think maybe it isn’t targeted. It’s just random now. Maybe as a whole someone is pissed off this club is gay-friendly. Even if Puzzle and Sherlock weren’t flying the fucking flag, they didn’t deserve to die like they did. I doubted them.” Jokester leans his elbows against the kitchen island while Ryan works on Fox’s shoulder.

“It’s a through and through,” Ryan tells him. “After some rest and healing, you’ll be fine. It’s going to hurt for a few. You’re going to want more of that moonshine. Doctor’s orders.”

Hound hands him another bottle and pops the cork. Fox drinks it greedily, and from here I can see Ryan’s eyes watering. “I’m way ahead of you, Doc.”

“Good.” Ryan taps his shoulder and Fox whimpers pathetically from the pain. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Doc, you’re killing me.”

“I didn’t mean it, Fox.” Ryan cups his hands over his mouth, and a few guys chuckle, but Fox is chugging the moonshine as if it’s water.

Jokester is off in his own world, caught in a long daze. He feels powerless. Someone outside is somehow able to manage the storm and is trying to take us down, one by one. There’s nothing we can do. We’re trapped in the house until further notice.

It’s like we’re all waiting to die.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Wait, what is that? Shh, shh, I swear, I hear something.” I listen closely, and everyone begins to quiet.

“What is it?” Ryan tries to whisper.

Rain beats against the roof and the snarl of wind howls in rage, but I can’t hear the thump. “Nothing. I thought—”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“Did anyone else hear that?” I question, sounding a bit frantic.

“It’s probably the river knocking something against the beams on the porch,” Creep offers while lying on the floor and resting his eyes.

The rhythmic beat sounds again, and it has Jokester straightening his spine. It’s coming from the back porch, where we keep the rocking chairs. In the mornings, a few guys like to have coffee outside while having a view of the river.

Creep sits up too and scrubs his eyes, turning his head to the back door. The sound gets even louder and faster, and he gets to his feet.

Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom.

“It sounds like one of the chairs smashing against the wall. That’s probably from the wind.” Creep shrugs his shoulder and lies down again, lacing his arms behind his head.

“Yeah, except I secured the chairs. They shouldn’t be rocking.” Jokester runs to the back door, and I’m right next to him with my gun at the ready.

We glance at one another and Jokester silently counts by lifting his fingers. One, two…

Three.

Jokester swings open the door, and I step out first, aiming my gun into the night. The banging is coming from my left and Jokester points a flashlight in the direction.

What I see makes my blood run cold.

“Cosmo!” I sprint to his side, and he drops his hand from the rocking chair, his arm landing hard on the porch.

The rain is coming in sideways, but it doesn’t wash off what’s been done to him.

He’s cold, shivering, and has a wound on the side of his head. His face is barely recognizable from the beating he received. There’s that nasty fucking word carved fresh into his upper left pec.

Faggot.

We’ll remove it. He won’t ever have to worry about seeing it. That isn’t even the most concerning part.

He’s naked.

Jokester covers him with a jacket, and I bend down to hook my arms around him. “Can you walk?” I ask him gently, pushing his wet hair out of his face.

Cosmo is the one everyone loves. The positive, funny guy. He’s the one we need to bring us joy. He has that natural energy that everyone can’t help but feel. He’s a scrappy fighter, but he’s slender.

He shakes his head and looks away when I see his chin wobble. He squeezes his eyes shut, and without him saying another word, I pick him up and carry him inside.

“Cosmo!”

“What the fuck happened?”

“Holy shit, Cosmo! Is he okay?”

“Who the hell is doing this?”

One by one, each member protests. I can’t tell who’s talking anymore as their voices rise and arguments begin to unfold.

“Put him here.” Ryan points to the kitchen table. I do as he says, lying him as carefully as I can down against the hard surface.

Cosmo’s cry is unlike anything I’ve ever heard of. The pain makes me want to murder.

“Cosmo. Cosmo? I need you to tell me where it hurts,” Ryan tries to ask, but Cosmo is hysterical. He begins to kick, fighting us when Ryan touches his leg. His foot lands in the middle of Ryan’s stomach and Creep is there to grab him before he falls.

“Are you okay?” I struggle to keep Cosmo pinned to the table and Ryan nods.

He runs to his bag, grabs a syringe, and then stabs Cosmo in the thigh with it, plunging the medication into his system. It takes a few moments, but Cosmo begins to settle until he’s still and breathing evenly.

“What’s the diagnosis, Ryan?” Jokester asks as every member crowds around the table to be near Cosmo.

“Everyone needs to give Cosmo some room. He’s naked, injured, and I doubt he would want everyone staring at him. I’ll update everyone when I’m done examining him.”

No one moves.

Ryan claps his hands twice. “Do I need to repeat myself? Fucking get out!” He points to the kitchen area, which is just a few feet away, and all of the guys, including me, do as we’re told.

Ryan grabs a large plaid blanket off the floor and tucks a pillow behind Cosmo’s head, then covers Cosmo to his chin with the oversized flannel throw.

“He’s strong, Rainbow. He’s good for the club,” Jokester mentions to me.

I lean against the counter next to him and nod while staring at Ryan. “I know. He’s perfect.”

“I’m happy for you.”

If I’m not mistaken, I hear a bit of jealousy and sadness in his tone. “Thanks, Prez.” I rub a hand over my weary eyes. “Who do you think is doing this? Think it’s someone in this room?” I dare to ask, doubting one of our own can be a terrible offense.

“I don’t think so, but I don’t know anything at this point. The man I thought was behind it all is dead in your bathtub, Rainbow. I know I’m supposed to have answers, but I don’t. I’m just as lost as you are.”

A few guys sit on the floor, and to pass the time, they begin to play cards. No one is focused. Everyone keeps trying to catch a peek at Cosmo.

Ryan’s feet are still drenched in Puzzle’s blood, but the liquid is dry now and crusting on his toes. Ryan leaves Cosmo to rest and joins us in the kitchen, then nods to the sink. “Can you pick me up and sit me on the counter, please?” He sounds so tired and seems to be on the verge of tears.

I do as he asks without question, and he places his feet in the farmhouse sink. It’s one large space instead of it being separated into two. I turn on the faucet without him asking. The water is cold since there is no electricity; he flinches but doesn’t pull away. He squirts a ton of dish soap over his feet and hands and begins to scrub.

The white suds turn pink from the blood and the sink gurgles while the water drains.

“He’s in bad shape,” he begins to say, not looking up from his feet. “I’ve placed bandages and stitches where they need to be, but there isn’t anything I can do for the anal trauma.”

Every man in the room stops breathing.

“What?” Jokester chokes. “Are you saying this sick fuck raped Cosmo?”

Ryan sniffles and inhales a deep breath. He tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling. His eyes are watering, and he’s trying to compose himself so he stays professional. “Pretty brutally. There’s damage. He needs to go to a doctor to make sure nothing is too severely injured on the inside. I’m not a specialist. I’m a paramedic. I can’t—”

I take Ryan into my arms, and he begins to sob for Cosmo. “You did more than any of us could, Sassafras. You did good. We’ll get him help, don’t worry.”

“He’s going to need therapy. But, first, we have to find who’s doing this. It could be one of us next.” Ryan tugs himself out of my arms and rinses off his feet and hands. I give him a towel to dry off, hold him close to me, and then slide down to the floor to sit on our makeshift bed.

A storm might stop raining, but life sure doesn’t.

And right now, it’s a downpour.