Chapter 20 Definitely Not Backing Down
Theo
I hate that smug smile on his face.
Even from inside the shop, through the smudged glass and the glare from the streetlamp, I can see it.
Bash is standing on the sidewalk like he owns the block, one hand in his pocket, the other adjusting his watch like he’s checking how much of our lives he’s about to waste.
Raine’s at the door, one hand braced on the frame, shoulders tight.
She doesn’t step out, but also doesn’t step back.
She just stands there in the doorway, the human version of a barricade, jaw clenched so hard I’m amazed it doesn’t crack.
Outside, the guy with him hangs back a step—Bash’s shadow, not his voice.
Inside, the three of us pretend to be normal, playing the part of customers.
Elias stands in the middle of the lobby, relaxed on purpose, hands loose at his sides.
Jax is behind the counter, pretending to reorganize a stack of invoices he’s definitely reading upside down.
I’m off to the right near the tire rack, a rag in my hand that I haven’t actually used, trying not to stare like a deer at a rifle barrel.
Bash says something I can’t hear through the glass that causes Raine’s shoulders to twitch. Then, after half a beat, she shifts like she’s swallowing a curse and steps back, opening the door wider.
Shit.
He steps in as if he were invited to brunch, merrily and amused.
“Evening.” Bash’s voice is as smooth as oil as he crosses the threshold. His gaze sweeps the lobby in one slow slide, taking in the bikes, the tools, and three men in leather and denim who definitely don’t look like random customers. His mouth curves. “Well. This is cozy.”
Behind him, the henchman closes the door and plants himself just to the side of it. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. That’s not his job.
Raine moves automatically to the side of the entrance, still between Bash and the rest of the shop. “You said you wanted the rent,” she says, getting back to business. “I’ve got it.”
“I see that.” His eyes flick to the small lockbox on the counter where she put the envelope ten minutes ago. Then back to us. “And company as well. Busy night, Raine.”
“They’re customers.”
Bash’s gaze slides to Elias first, reading him the way predators do. Elias meets his eyes, calm as ever, his poker face strong thanks to all the high-tension situations he's been in. Then Bash looks at Jax, whose anger is more evident than it should be by the way his jaw ticks. Then he looks at me.
I make a conscious effort not to shift my weight or shove my hands in my pockets or do anything that screams I am lying already and I haven’t even opened my mouth.
“Customers,” Bash repeats. “Late ones.”
Raine crosses her arms, leaning into an attitude as strength. “You’re here late, too.”
He smiles like she’s an amusing dog that just bared its teeth. “Touché.”
His gaze comes back to us. “What brings you gentlemen to this fine establishment at”—he checks his watch—“ten-thirty-seven? Aside from Raine’s sparkling personality.”
Jax opens his mouth, and I feel my soul leave my body. He should be the last one to answer that question.
“I—” he starts.
“Bike issues,” I start, cutting in before he can throw gasoline on the problem.
My voice comes out steady, which is a miracle in itself.
“We rolled in right before closing. She was halfway through a job when she realized she needed to lock up, so we offered to help her finish and close, so she wasn’t here alone this late. ”
Bash’s eyes come back to me, sharper now. “Did she now?”
I nod once, keeping my chin leveled. “Yeah. She saved my ass last week with a brake line at cost. We’re returning the favor.”
There. That's plausible and mostly true, if you throw the word “metaphorical” in front of “brake line” and ignore everything else.
He studies me a little too long. “And you are?”
“Theo,” I answer, and then add, “just a friend,” because I’m a goddamn idiot.
I feel—more than see—Raine tense at my shoulder. I should’ve said customer. Mechanics don’t stay this late for friends.
I'm so stupid. It's too late now. It’s out.
Bash hums like he’s filing that away. “Theo. Elias.” His gaze flicks to the patch on Elias’ EMT shirt. “And…?”
“Jax,” Jax supplies, idle and cocky, like he’s not vibrating with the need to put his fist through something. “You here to take the money and go, or you planning to help close the shop too?”
Bash laughs quietly. It’s not a nice sound. “You’re mouthy.”
“He’s employed in the service industry.” Elias is calm, cool when he speaks. “It’s an occupational hazard.”
Raine moves then, cutting sideways in front of Jax as if she can physically shield his smart mouth. “You wanted rent,” she repeats, voice flatter. “Here it is.”
She steps over, snatches the envelope from the lockbox, and holds it out with steady fingers. I know her well enough now to know there's effort behind that. To our surprise, Bash doesn’t take it.
He strolls forward instead, ignoring the outstretched money, and wanders the front of the shop like he’s at a gallery opening. His hand drags lightly along the counter, along the wall where Raine’s framed photo of her and her dad hangs slightly crooked.
He pauses there. Tilts his head at it. “Shame what happened to your old man,” Bash muses. “He was… useful.”
He says it like he’s talking about a tool that broke, and it ignites a fire in all of us.
Jax’s fingers curl so hard around the pen in his hand I hear it crack.
“I fixed the shop after he was gone,” Raine explains. “I keep it useful.”
“I can see that.” Bash finally takes the envelope from her, turning it over in his hand. “Still. Different vibe in here now.” He glances back at us. “Clearly.”
The henchman by the door hasn’t moved at all, not a blink or a word, just quiet observation. A second weight in the room. Bash tucks the envelope into the inside pocket of his suit jacket with a smooth flick. “So, let’s get back to these… customers.”
He gestures lazily at us. “What were we saying? Bikes. Favors. Late nights.” His gaze settles on Raine again. “You didn’t mention any of this when you texted.”
“I just told you where I was so you could get the rent money.” She shrugs. “I didn't know I had to tell you more than that. Should I have told you what color shirt I was wearing too?”
“Mm.” His eyes flick to the bikes out front through the window. “Those yours? Or theirs?”
“Mine.” Jax says it at the same time I say, “Ours.”
Bash looks very entertained.
“Well. Now I’m confused.”
Raine shoots me a look that could peel paint. “I work on their bikes,” she inserts quickly. “They come in a lot. It’s not complicated.”
Bash’s brow lifts. “Ah. Regulars. That explains the charming familiarity.”
He steps closer to her, forcing her to either back into the counter or stand her ground, which of course means Raine doesn’t move. I doubt anyone could intimidate her enough to make her back up.
“Three regulars,” he goes on. “Three bikes out front.” His eyes quickly shift between us. “Three men who happen to all be here after hours, helping my tenant close up shop because they’re such… gentlemen.”
The word drips, like he knows that isn't right.
He looks back down at her, and his smile goes edgy. “That about right?”
Raine’s jaw clenches. “That’s what I said.”
Bash nods slowly, like he’s weighing the answer. Then he laughs, a quiet huff of genuine amusement that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Three,” he repeats. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Raine.”
“Excuse me?”
He leans in a fraction, voice dropping just enough that I have to step closer to catch it.
“You always did surprise me,” he murmurs. “But this?” He glances over her shoulder at us again, then back down. “Three men wrapped around your finger. You must be one hell of a lay.”
Jax moves, a quick shift off the counter, like his body couldn’t let that slide without some kind of reaction, and Bash clocks it instantly.
“Careful,” Elias warns under his breath, more to us than anyone, but Bash hears that too. His gaze ticks to Elias, cataloguing every small tell like he’s built to do it.
I have to force my hands to uncurl at my sides. If I lunge, if I speak, if I show anything, I just confirm what he’s already circling.
Bash lets the silence stretch, savoring it all.
“Relax,” he tells us finally, lazy. “I’m not offended. I admire efficiency. One little mechanic paying off a big bad debt with three… volunteers?” His tongue clicks against his teeth. “Smart math.”
Raine’s whole body goes cold. I can see it in the way her shoulders stiffen, in the way her hand flattens against the counter like she needs something solid.
“That’s not what this is.” She keeps her voice low, anger simmering just below the surface. “Don’t talk about them like that.”
“Like what?” Bash asks innocently. “Like they’re assets?”
He looks at me like he already knows the answer, and even though I know I should keep my mouth shut, I don’t.
“We’re not part of this.” I step up alongside Raine before I can talk myself out of it. “We don’t owe you anything.”
Bash’s gaze slides to me, assessing, up then down and back up again. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Theo.”
“Yeah, funny thing about opinions.” Jax leans in, confident as ever. “People have them even when you don’t ask.”
Elias exhales slowly like he’s counting backward from ten, being the only real rational one here.
Bash laughs again, more delighted this time. “I like him.”
“Lots of people do,” Jax quips.
“I don’t think I am being clear,” Bash replies. “See, the thing about people like you is… you’re very predictable. Men who think they’re wolves. Men who think they’re in control.” His eyes sharpen. “Men who don’t realize when they’ve walked into someone else’s hunt.”
The henchman shifts his weight by the door, just enough to remind us he’s there.
Raine moves in front of me a little, like she can block the line of sight between me and Bash with five feet and sheer will.