Blood. His body was filthy with it, golden skin turned red with gore. The pool beneath him was warm and wet, fresh from the throats of the three businessmen who’d dared to steal a shipment of arms from Jim. John pushed himself up on his knees as Jim took his place behind him. “You really ought to come with me more often,” he cooed, rubbing lubricated fingers against John’s muscle. “You look beautiful in red.” “Thank you, Daddy,” John breathed, tilting his head to return Jim’s ghastly grin.