He thrusts a piece of paper and a pen at me. I scribble down my apartment address and give it back to him.
“Thanks for checking over the bike for me. Don’t I need to actually pay something to own it?”
I’m confused how this entire transaction is happening. He’s giving me a bike from a random dealership without getting any money from me. That doesn’t seem super legal.
Hal’s lips tip up in a half smile. “We own the dealership. I can sell you the bike at whatever price I want. After the horrible customer service you received, I figured a little discount was in order.”
Of course they own the dealership.
Why would I choose a dealership owned by someone normal, instead of three dudes who are definitely involved in organized crime?
It makes me wonder what they were threatening Dave for if he works for them, though.
I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say to him calling it a small price cut. “A discount is a thousand off, not selling it for twenty percent of the price.”
Before Hal can respond, Rook chimes in. “Hal’s not going to let this go. Just take the discounted bike. As you’ve pointed out, we have enough money. Selling this bike for a couple grand isn’t a big deal for us.”
I roll my lips between my teeth as I contemplate what Rook said. There’s just one thing holding me back from accepting Hal’s generosity. “Do I have to do anything in exchange for the price cut? Because I’d just prefer to buy it outright if so.”
I know better now than to accept anything from anyone other than the few people I trust at this point.
I’m pretty sure I hear Rook hiss, “Fucking hell.”
But I’m too hypnotized by the emotions crashing through Hal’s mint green eyes to check. Anger and heartache war fordominance in his gaze for a long moment before he smooths out his expression.
Without his ever-present smile, Hal assures me, “No, Lark. There’s nothing you have to do in exchange. I know you don’t know me, but I swear there aren’t any strings attached.”
He’s right. I don’t know him, but for some reason, my gut says I can trust him.
Blowing out a breath, I hope I’m not making a massive mistake. “Okay. I’ll take the discount. I can write a check now or get cash to pay later. Which do you want?”
“Check works, but wait until you get the title, just in case there are any issues.” Hal looks over my jacket and pants before his lips flatten into a harsh line. “Did you bring any protective gear with you? I know you’re a shifter, but road rash still hurts like a motherfucker. Trust me, it’s not something you want to experience.”
One side of my mouth turns up in a half smile at his concern. “My jeans are Kevlar lined, and my jacket is armored, so I should be protected if I go down.”
Here’s hoping I don’t, though. I’ve been practicing on Charlie’s and Coop’s bikes, but I’m still not super confident in my riding ability. Riding on the street is a whole different beast than dirt biking.
Him mentioning that I’m a shifter makes me wonder again what the three of them are. While they all have a scent, it just smells like general magic. So, I know they’re supernatural, but I have no idea if they’re shifters, fae, or even mages. My bet is on shifter, but I really don’t know.
“Really? That’s so cool!” Hal steps up next to me to get a closer look at my gear. “The jacket looks just like a regular leather one. We wear armored base layers under our street clothes so we don’t look like MotoGP racers all the time.”
I grin at his enthusiasm. Shrugging it off, I hold it out to him. “You can take a look at the armor if you want.”
Hal takes the hefty black leather jacket from me. He turns the garment around and inspects the shoulder and elbow protectors curiously. When he’s finished, he hands it back to me.
I put it on and notice he’s holding a phone up to my face.
My phone.
By the time I realize what happened, Hal already unlocked it.
My eyes narrow on him. “What are you doing?”
“Texting myself so I have your number and you have mine,” Hal informs me without glancing up from my phone. “That way, if you have any problems, you can reach me. And if I need anything else for the bike, I can reach you.”
I huff, surprisingly unbothered by him using my phone. I usually hate when people take my stuff without asking. For some reason, it doesn’t irritate me when Hal does it. “You could’ve just asked.”
I don’t know what good him having my number will do, though, when I have to switch it so often. I refuse to let the past drag me back, and changing my number monthly is a small price to pay for keeping my freedom.
