The Unexpected First (The Unexpected Series Book 2)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Igroan as the sun beams through the window above my makeshift bed waking me like the evil bastard that it is. I look at my watch and realize it’s already nine a.m. I begin to roll onto my back when I realize something is in my hair.

What the fuck?

I gingerly glide my fingers through my hair only to feel more fingers. I stiffen at the discovery, continuing to roll slower than a tortoise trudging uphill through molasses in January. My heart stutters in my chest when I see my girl fast asleep with her arm dangling over the edge of the bed holding my hair like a tether to keep me near.

I relish in the feel of her hands on me, even if it’s just my hair. I smile up at her face which is half hidden by the mattress. It looks like she was hanging off the bed entirely at one point while I slept. Like the selfish bastard I am, I place the hand I ran through my hair on top of hers, closing my eyes to savor the moment. My heart beats harshly in my chest as I hold her as close as she’s allowed me to in the past week.

She begins to stir after a few moments, and a sharp intake of breath tells me she’s awake. I don’t move, worried that any movement will frighten her more. She gently tugs her hand free from under mine. I hear Ellie mewling from above me and Ryan’s soft giggle makes my heart swell.

“Good morning, El.”

“I’ve never been called that before.” I can’t help but chuckle at my stupid joke.

“Jesus, Grey. You scared the shit out of me,” Ryan shrieks.

“Good morning, Kitten.” I open my eyes, taking in the sight before me. Ryan is still laying on the bed with my traitorous cat wrapped in her arms.

Ryan’s smile warms my heart.

“Did you sleep ok?” I ask, hoping she’ll bring up the fact that she was touching me.

“I slept better than I have been.” She sighs, not making eye contact with me. “I’m sorry if I pulled your hair while I was asleep.”

I chuckle, sitting up and kneeling in front of the bed before her. “Baby, if your hands are on me, I don’t care what you do to me.” With a wink, I climb to my feet and walk to the bathroom.

It’s the first day I’ve been able to come to the studio since being back. Ryan insisted on staying home, not prepared to handle being around too many people at once. Having told Nat at least about the abduction, he has been fucking amazing in helping to keep shit running even though he’s trying to retire. The rest is Ryan’s story to tell.

There are two other artists who have been here with Nat. One is nearing the age of retirement as well, the other closer to my age.

Shaun, the older artist, his deep olive skin weathered by years in the sun, steps out from his room with a client on his heels. They approach the front counter to take payment while I observe. The younger artist, Dixie, sits cross-legged on the couch drawing on her tablet, her kaleidoscope of long rainbow hair hanging around her. She is constantly asking how she can improve and practices tirelessly whenever I see her here. After Shaun explains the after care to his client, I ask that we all chat.

“I know you both love Nat, I do too. He was my first mentor, and he is always welcome to tattoo here whenever he chooses.” I grin at Nat who shakes his head at my statement.

“You already bought the shop, son. You don’t need to brown-nose me.”

“What’s your point, kid?” Shaun’s annoyance is plain as day.

“My point is, Shaun.” I level him with my gaze “While we all love him, this is my shop now and though Nat may have overlooked you selling drugs here, that is not something I’m ok with.”

“He’s got good weed, though,” Nat snorts behind me.

“I don’t give a shit what he has. It’s not going to be sold out of my studio. It’s my reputation on the line now. So, Shaun. Pack your shit,” I say flatly.

Dixie giggles from her place on the couch. “It’s about time someone called his ass out. Sorry, not sorry.”

I smirk at her. She reminds me of Loki, it’s going to be nice having some camaradaerie here like I did in Miami. Shaun storms out of his room with a small bag with what I assume are the drugs he’s been selling from the studio.

“I’ll be back for my shit when I get my truck,” he growls.

“You can come by on Monday when we’re closed,” I call after him, knowing I’ll have Bennett here with me. It’s older artists like this shit who give us a bad fucking name.

Dixie looks between Nat and I before standing to her feet.

“Uh, I’m gonna go hang out in my room. Just let me know when it’s safe.”

She disappears behind the curtain of her workroom.

“You’ve known, and you haven’t done shit about this? Weed I’m less concerned about; I’ll blaze along with the best of them, but you don’t sell the shit here, old man,” I scold Nat like he’s a child. He may as well be with how fucking stupid he was with this. “The asshole is selling fentanyl.”

“It’s not like he’s going to stop. He’ll just start working out of his house like we used to.” His tone is cold, and he’s obviously upset with me for getting rid of the artist he opened the shop with. Others have come and gone but Shaun has been here with him through it all.

“He can do whatever he wants as long as it’s not here. I can’t fucking believe you allowed him to do it for this long. You’re fucking lucky no one caught onto it. I was here for what? Two weeks, and I realized what was going on.” I shake my head. “Let’s go over the shit you’ve left me with and figure out what I need to do from here.”

I take a seat at the desk behind the counter, attempting to turn on the computer only to find that it’s unresponsive.

“Tell me this thing works?” I ask, afraid I already know the answer. It looks ancient.

“Sorry, son. Never thought to replace it since I keep track of everything on paper.” He winks at me before he walks out the front door.

“Son of a bitch!” I yell.

“You alright, boss?” Dixie walks up leaning against the counter.

“I will be when I find out just how fucked I am with this shop,” I groan.

I spend the next several hours going through every piece of paper I can find in the shop. There is barely anything written in the ledger I found for the past month for Shaun and I know damn well he’s had people in and out of that room for more than just a quick fix.

“How many people have you inked in the past month?” I ask as I look over her lines in the ledger.

“Twelve,” she says shyly. “I’ve been trying to get my name out there more.” She sounds panicked as she answers.

“Breathe. I’m just trying to see how badly I’m fucked.” I go line by line and see her numbers match. “Did you fill this out for your clients or did Nat?” I raise a brow, the handwriting looks very feminine.

“I did it, Nat didn’t take care of the books at all. I think Shaun had at least twenty people in the chair this month but I’d be shocked if he wrote anything up.” She rolls her eyes. “Nat would let him get away with murder.”

I snort at the remark.