Black Crimson: A Little Red Riding Hood Story by Kage Linda

Author:Kage, Linda [Kage, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
Amazon: B09BRHN25Z
Goodreads: 58890090
Publisher: Linda Kage
Published: 2021-08-30T07:00:00+00:00

Half an hour later, with two plastic bags full of paint stuffed between our seats, we pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store near the rail yard.

Immediate trepidation filled me. “Is this place even safe?”

“Probably not,” Brick answered good-naturedly as he shut off the engine and reached into a gap behind my seat to pull up the infamous black hoodie he’d been wearing the first night I’d met him.

I sent him an incredulous glance and he pulled it on, zipped up the front, and flipped his hood over his head. “And you have no qualms at all about parking your car here, then just leaving it?”

“Nope.” He patted the steering wheel. “My baby’s got GPS, no-start anti-theft relay, and a 400-watt alarm, plus…” He plopped a white box on the dash and pushed a button on top. “A nanny cam. If anyone fucks with her after all that, well then…” He shrugged. “I’ve got insurance.”

I rolled my eyes, thinking it must be nice to be so stinking rich, while he grabbed the sacks full of spray paint and opened his door, saying, “You still in?”

“Of course,” I shot back.

This was insane and crazy, and yet kind of exciting, so I couldn’t seem to protest as I followed him from the car and off the main street, into the shadows toward the rail yard, where streetlights were rare, and darkness was abundant.

“Are you always so spontaneous and unscripted when you do this?” I had to ask as I hurried to keep up.

“Hmm?” He glanced toward me distractedly, then paused to reach out and carefully lift my hood up over my head too. “No. Never. But you insisted, so here we are.”

“What are we even going to paint on?” I asked, lowering my voice as we left behind more roads and regular city sounds.

“The first bare patch of wall we find. Like…” He slowed to a stop and pointed at an abandoned railcar that was seventy-five percent full of graffiti already. “This. This would be perfect.”

Except I think he had put a bit more thought into it than that. I glanced around, noticing we had plenty of nice, escape paths, a bit of privacy, and the canvas he’d chosen looked a bit like a learning wall because, from what I could tell, none of the other tags looked all that professional.

I squinted at it, barely able to see in this lighting. “Is it always this dark when you paint?”

“Sometimes.” Slapping his hands together, he waggled his eyebrows at me. “Now, we need to set you up with your own tag.”

My brows lifted. “My own tag?”

“Yeah.” With a nod, he widened his hands apart as if displaying an imaginary banner. “Your identifier. Your mark. Normally, we’d practice you off on paper for a couple of years first, but tonight, we’re just going to roll with it. Are you into bubbly letters or do you want something grittier and edgier that’s blocky? Or, you know, you don’t have to outline at all.”

“I…”

“And we’ll have to figure out what you actually want it to say.

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