Chapter 15 Definitely Not Giving In
Raine
It’s been three days since Jax shoved his hand down my pants and then pulled away right when I was about to fall apart. Three days since I told him to get out and didn’t look back.
I’m still mad.
Mad, and annoyingly, stupidly turned on. Which is its own kind of self-inflicted torture.
The guys have texted. Theo with soft “You okay?” check-ins. Elias with a simple “Home safe?” Jax with a meme and a “you still mad at me, Sunshine?” that I left on read.
I shouldn’t think about any of that.
I should think about invoices, parts orders, and the bike on the lift in front of me that still needs its guts lined up before I can get to the fun part.
I wipe grease on my jeans and lean closer to the engine, narrowing my eyes at the alignment. “Come on, babes,” I murmur to the bike. “Work with me here.”
The bell on the front door jingles, but I don’t look up at first.
“We’re open.” I call it toward the front, voice pitching into easy business even as my frustration tries to ebb away at me. “Be right there.”
The silence that answers doesn’t feel like a customer. It feels wrong.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up instantly. I straighten slowly, wiping my hands on a rag, already bracing myself as I step around the lift and toward the small front counter. Sure enough, he’s there.
Bash.
He's leaning against the counter like he owns the very oxygen in the room. His dark suit, darker eyes, and gold watch that glints every time his fingers tap against the scarred wood irritate me to no end. There's no tie today, so casual asshole it is.
My stomach tightens as I make my way toward him.
“Afternoon, Raine.” His voice is smooth. Irritatingly so, and it grates my teeth. “Miss me?”
“No,” I deadpan. “What do you want?”
He smiles like I’m a funny little pet he likes to see do tricks. “Straight to business. That’s why I like you.”
He doesn’t like me. He likes owning things. And right now, I’m taped up on his ledger like a pinned butterfly.
“I’m working,” I remind him, trying not to roll my eyes so hard that I strain something. “So if this is a social call, you can see yourself out.”
“Oh, it’s not social.” He clicks his tongue like I’ve disappointed him. “We haven’t spoken in almost two weeks. Thought it was time for a check-in. You know. Family-friendly customer service.”
“Yeah, well, next time send a survey link instead.” I cross my arms so I don’t punch him. “You want your money. I know. I didn’t forget.”
“Good.” He pushes off the counter and takes a slow, idle walk around the small lobby, looking at my framed photos on the wall like he’s shopping for something to break. “Because… funny thing. Costs’ve gone up.”
My jaw tenses so hard I can hear my teeth clench. “Rent is already higher than it should be. You said—”
He lifts a hand, cutting me off in that annoying way that makes me want to hurt him more. “I say a lot of things, but, you know, time passes and situations change.”
He stops near the window, watching cars crawl by outside, then glances back at me like this is all so trivial.
“Two weeks left in this month.” He tsks his teeth, putting on a whole show of disappointment. “You’ve been cutting it close, stressing me out, and you know stress isn’t good for my health.”
“Cry me a river,” I mutter, doing my best not to assault this dickhead.
He ignores me, which is impressive considering I’m standing three feet away and radiating pure irritation.
“I’ve been thinking.” His voice drifts on, casual enough to sound harmless, but his eyes don’t match it. They’re on me, measuring, taking inventory. “Police interest. Customers claiming you attacked them. People watching who shouldn’t be.”
Is he really going to stand there and pretend like he wasn't the one who sent that crazy ass man in here to hurt himself?
My fingers curl around the rag so tight my knuckles ache.
“So,” he continues, “I’m considering a new fee. Call it a hazard tax. For all the new risks in my territory.”
My heart drops, hardly ablet to afford what he set it to this month. “A hazard tax.”
“Mm-hmm.” He smiles lazily. “Next month, rent might be double. Maybe triple. Depends on my mood. Depends on… your cooperation.”
The room tilts a little as my vision narrows.
“Double?” I choke out, trying not to sound as weak as I’m suddenly feeling. “Bash, I can barely keep up with what it is now. You know that.”
“Yes.” He answers with a pleasant little smile, the smirk in it giving him away. He’s enjoying this, enjoying the way I have to stand here and take it. “I do.”
“So why would you—”
“Because it’s my building,” he interrupts me, answering simply. “My block. My people making sure certain… nearby problems don’t spill in here.”
“That’s not protection,” I snap, raising my voice more than I mean to. “That’s extortion.”
His smile tilts, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Big word.”
“I read.” I shoot it back before I can stop myself, anger flaring hot in my chest.
“I know you do.” His fingers slide along the counter’s edge, slow on purpose, a lazy little show of control. “You’re smart.” The word lands almost affectionate, which somehow makes it worse. “Smart enough to know I’ve been very generous up until now.”
“That’s what you call this?” A short laugh slips out, more disbelief than humor. “Generous?”
“You’re still standing. Still open. Still breathing.” He lifts a brow, as if he’s listing perks on a rewards program. “Most people who owed me as much, as long, would not be.” His gaze stays on mine, unblinking. “I’ve given you time. Options. Warnings.”
He comes closer, closing space without rushing it, and I make myself stay planted, even when every instinct screams to step back.
“You want out?” His voice drops, quiet enough that it feels personal. “You know the fastest way.”
My throat goes dry. I do know. Wash his money. Cook the books. Use my shop as a funnel until there isn’t a clean bolt left in the place.
“Not happening.” The answer comes out steady, which surprises even me. “I told you. I’m not running your money.”
“It’s not running.” He keeps his voice almost gentle, like he’s trying to soothe a spooked animal instead of cornering a person.
“It’s helping.” His hand lifts in a small, calm gesture, as if he’s laying out a reasonable business plan.
“A few tweaks. A few false invoices. Some cash trades, some creative ordering. You keep the shop. You make more. I make more. Everyone’s happy. ”
“Yeah, until the Feds show up.” The snap in my voice is sharp enough to cut. “I’m not going down for you.”
His eyes cool, the warmth evaporating without warning. “You say ‘for me’ like I’m asking for a favor.” The words come out level, but the threat is underneath them, patient and ugly. “I’m offering you a lifeline, Raine. You keep treating it like a noose.”
“It is one.”
We stare at each other.
My heart is pounding so hard I feel it in my teeth. I can’t show it. I know that. I can’t let him see that tiny flash of fear that wants to crawl up my throat. Weakness is blood in the water with guys like him.
“I’ll get you your money.” I keep my chin up, voice firm even with my pulse clawing at my throat. “The real way. I don’t need your fake invoices. Your dirty cash. I don’t need to owe you more than I already do.”
He watches me for a long stretch, and it’s the waiting that gets under my skin, knowing it’s him deciding how to punish me for making him work for it.
“You have two weeks.” He says it the way someone reads a sentence they’ve already memorized. “Two. And if I’m not happy with what you’ve brought me by then…” He tilts his head, the gesture almost curious. “We’ll revisit our arrangement.”
“What does that mean?” The question comes out even though my stomach already knows the answer.
“It means…” His voice stays mild, which is the part that makes my blood go cold. “Next month’s rent might have a different number. Might come with consequences.”
His gaze drifts past me to the tool wall, slow and deliberate, cataloging the things that keep my world spinning. Then it lands back on my hands.
“It’d be a shame if something happened to your hands, Raine.” The words are smooth, almost sympathetic. “You need those.”
My fingers twitch. My mouth opens, ready to say something I’ll definitely regret, when the bell over the front door jingles again.
We both look.
Theo stands in the entrance, hand on the door, sunlight framing him from behind.
Helmet hooked on two fingers, hair a little messy like he’s been fighting the wind.
He takes in the room in one quick sweep.
Bash. Me. The thick-ass tension between us.
And I can see the way his jaw tightens. There’s still a faint bruise along it too—from the punch at the bar.
It’s yellowing now, fading, but seeing it again sends a fresh spike of anger through me.
This is bad.
This is so bad.
If he says my name the way he usually does, if he rushes over, if he so much as looks worried—
“Hey,” Theo says, easy and mild, like he walked into a bakery instead of a live grenade. “You Raine?”
My brain stalls. He doesn’t look at me. Not really. His gaze dips over my shoulder, taking me in without lingering. Then it shifts to Bash, curious and unbothered.
I blink. “Uh… yeah?”
He steps inside, propping the door open with his heel for a second before it swings shut behind him.
“Cool,” he throws out casually as if this is truly our first meeting.
And I gotta say, Theo has more acting skills that I could ever give him credit for.
“I’m Theo, Jax’s friend. He told me you’re the one to see about getting some work done on my bike.
Said you know your shit and don’t overcharge unless someone pisses you off. ”
Bash’s attention slides fully onto Theo now.
Not where I want it.
Theo gives him a polite half-smile. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back.”
Everything in me wants to scream Get out. Instead, I pick up the cue.