Page 17 of Viking Ink

“Actually, no. Er. You know that young busker?”

“Rhys?” Mitch sat up wincing, pushing his sunglasses up so he could fix me with a bloodshot stare. “You didn’t finally hit on him?”

I stared at Mitch. “How do you know his name? Actually, how did Doc know his name? I didn’t know his name.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “Maybe because we asked him, instead of dropping fivers in his case and talking about the weather while we made cow eyes?”

First Doc had me being a hen and a bear, and now Mitch was calling me a cow? What was it about today and animals?

I sat down on the edge of the untidy desk that served as our reception desk. I really needed to find us someone to organise this shit.

“Anyway, it was nothing like that. Those arseholes from the pub, they found him in the square and beat seven shades of shit out of him.”

Mitch sat up straighter. “That poor fucking kid. Is he okay? Did you call the coppers?”

“He was pretty banged up and shaken, but didn’t want to go to the hospital. The bastards broke his guitar and trashed his belongings, so I brought him back to mine.” I sighed, waiting for the inevitable comments from my brother.

Mitch didn’t disappoint. He smirked into his coffee before he spoke, and I looked away. I didn’t need a serving of Mitch’s teasing this early in the morning.

“So, you brought him back to yours. Big Daddy Simon to the rescue.” He grinned. “Got to say though, the guy is a cutie. Seems like a good bloke. You could do worse.”

“It’s not like that. The lad needs somewhere to stay, somewhere safe. He’s scared of something, and not just those wankers who beat him up,” I growled out.

“Bro, I’m teasing you. You knew I would. You’ve been pining after that man for weeks. I’m sorry it took him getting beaten up for you guys to connect, but silver cloud and all that shit. And I mean if he’s scared of someone, then being here around you—hell, all of us—might be good for him.” Mitch took a sip of his coffee, his face looking less like death warmed up. “That’s how dad brought us up, right? To take care of each other and the people around us.”

“Oh, shut it, Mouse. You’re making too much sense for someone hungover,” I groused.

“I know. Shocking, right?” Mitch stood slowly. “I have a client coming in at eleven, just a straightforward industrial and possibly a conch—they haven’t decided on the second one yet. When is your first client in?”

I scratched my beard absently as I flicked through the desk organiser. “Eleven-thirty, just finishing the colour on Ryan’s hannya mask, then I have to duck out at one and pick Rhys up from Doc’s.” I moved over to my station, aware of Mitch staring at my back.

“Why?”

“Took him to see Doc this morning to get a check-up, and the old bastard offered him a job.” I pulled fresh needles out and checked the ink I had on hand. Ryan’s hannya would be a fiery red with golden horns. The job should carry through until just before I needed to pick up Rhys. “I’m going to bring Rhys back here. Thought I might see if he could help sort out that front desk, and our accounts system. His guitar got smashed by those dicks, so I thought we could help get him on his feet,” I said as I set up my ink pots.

“Did you now?” Cal’s voice rumbled behind me, causing me to jump. Fuck, I hated when Cal did that. The big bastard was too light on his feet. I swear the man was part cat.

“Fuck, sneak up on a guy why don’t ya?” I growled.

Cal just grinned and sat at his station next to mine. He looked decidedly un-hungover, with his grey hair up in a tidy top knot and his beard brushed and groomed to perfection, making me aware of my own scruffy appearance today.

Rhys seemed to like it, though. I’d damn near lost my breath when Rhys had reached out and touched my beard. I’d felt something in that innocent touch, something profound. I couldn’t explain it, not even to myself. I was so fucked.

“Earth to Simon,” Cal said.

Fuck, I really needed to get my head in the game. I couldn’t keep fixating on every little thing Rhys did.

“Rhys got beaten up by those dickheads we ran out of the pub last night. I helped him out and he’s staying at mine for now.” I may have answered a little more gruffly than I meant to, but Cal just nodded.

“Is he okay? You said something about Doc when I walked in?” Cal’s blue eyes narrowed in concern.

“He got knocked hard, face took a beating, and his ribs are bruised to fuck. I had to twist his arm to see Doc. He’s scared, I don’t know what of, but I do know he’s been through something more than what happened last night.” I sat back, looking at Cal and Mitch. “I don’t know why, but Rhys needs us, needs to feel safe.” I ran a hand through my hair in frustration. “Shit, I’ve probably overstepped with the guy, but my gut tells me I need to help out.”

Cal reached over and slapped my belly. “Your bubble gut’s been right more than wrong, brother, and you know we all like the lad. More than happy to help.”

“My gut’s flatter than yours, Cal.” I feigned a glare. “Thanks, though. I’ll pick him up from Doc’s after I finish Ryan’s colour.”

“We’ll be on our best behaviour.” Cal shot Mitch a look.

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