Until Ireland

by Tl Reeve

  My brother inclined his chin as he turned down the music and placed the call. As I stepped out the door, I caught a glimpse of Hunter talking on his phone. Whoever it was, it hadn’t been one of his women. His face was dark and serious. He glanced my way, and his features didn’t soften. Well, looked as though more shit would be rolling down our hills sooner rather than later.

  When he hung up, he strode toward me. His mouth was set in a firm line. His eyes narrowed. “What happened?”

  “How about you tell me what put you in a foul mood, and I’ll tell you what’s going on in there?” I hitched my thumb toward the garage.

  “Call Mack.” He scowled at me. “You worried him this morning, and he knows you were hiding something.”

  Fuck. My bike was going to be the least of our problems here in about ten to twenty minutes. “Can this day get any worse?” I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs while throwing shit, neither of which would fix the situation I was currently in.

  “That bad, huh?” Hunter stared at me then glanced at the shop. “What happened?”

  “I think the car came from a chop shop.” I frowned, deflating in front of my brother. “The chop shop.” I didn’t have to say a name—he knew who I meant.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Hunter folded his arms, adding to his imposing visage. “How the fuck did that happen?”

  “Of course, all of this is speculation,” I said, holding up a hand. “I could be wrong. Whoever did the inspection could have just been shit at their job.” I explained the VIN numbers and face plates within the vehicle. If we wanted to delve deeper, we could check the center console to make sure that number matched the parts number for the vehicle, but a simple VIN run would be easier and take less time.

  “You’re never wrong,” he spat. “It’s why people trust you with their cars.”

  Yeah, that too.

  Guilt ate at me. When Mack found out, he’d lose his shit. Twice as much now, since it seemed my brother told him what happened to me this morning. Hunter didn’t have to come out and say it. He’d given Mack enough info to put the fire under my feet so I had to explain the situation, but he wouldn’t talk about Edgar and the Lux Automotive bullshit.

  “There’s a first time for everything.” At least, I hoped there was. If not, things were going to get a hell of a lot worse before they got better.

  “Well, like you said, we’ll wait to see how the VIN run goes, then we’ll call Mack. Doubt either of you thought your day would be taking this fucked of a turn.” Hunter patted my shoulder before heading inside. “Don’t stay out here too long. You’ll get lost in your thoughts.”

  I smirked. “Fuck off.” They all knew me too well. I’d wind myself up with what if questions and scenarios that would make me feel worse or sicker than I already was. I had that problem—anxiety. My mom used to call me a nervous Nelly. Maybe I was. My intuition was never wrong though, so it only aided the queasy unease in my stomach.

  Landon appeared at the mouth of the garage a few minutes later. He didn’t say anything, only stared at me for a second before joining me. “Cobi and Franks are on the way. They should be here in ten. Hunter and I will get all the discrepancies out of the car so we can show them better.”

  “Don’t.” I scrubbed my face, knowing full well I’d probably be smearing grease all over me. “It’ll only be more time-consuming to put it back together later.”

  “You’re convinced it’s stolen then?” He quirked a brow. “It could be a simple misunderstanding, you know.”

  It could. I was thirty-five percent sure it could be a simple mistake and sixty-five percent sure the car was hot. I’d put all my hope into me being overly paranoid after my bike was pinched, but deep down, I should have seen the writing on the wall. “I wish I could say what I knew for sure.”

  “I’ve been around you long enough, Ire,” he said. “You’re beating yourself up over this when you shouldn’t be. You’re the mechanic, not the buyer.”

  “That’s not the argument you should be making,” I replied with a droll look. I’d had a chance to end Edgar, but after my last confrontation with him, I ran. But not before he had his goons intimidate us as a reminder to not say a word.

  He held up his hands. “You know what I’m saying.”

  I did. He was right. “Yeah.” I stared at the garage. “Come on, Cobi will be here soon and then we’ll know the truth.”

  When Cobi arrived, my head was pounding with the worst stress headache I’d ever experienced. My stomach churned from not eating a thing since the bagel Jackson made me. Not that I thought I could stomach anything right now anyway. I wavered between crying like a blubbering bitch and puking, both of which I hated with a passion.

  Behind them were two squad cars. While one set of officers put up caution tape—really good for business—the other began to photograph everything, just in case. Cobi stood next to my computer, watching as I input the information I had on the vehicle to buy the parts. So far, everything checked out.

  “I’m going to run the VIN,” Cobi announced. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

  “Cobi, we got something,” Franks said, motioning him over to the car. Yep, I was going to puke.

  I followed behind him. This was my fucking shop. I had to know the truth. I peered over his shoulder as Franks peeled the VIN plate from the dash to uncover the original UK VIN number. Oh shit. That shouldn’t have happened. If the car had gone through the proper channels once it was bought, the VIN plate would have stamped into the dash after the UK SM was removed. None of this was Mack’s fault, I kept telling myself. I realized in those moments I’d only known him for a little over two months, but I trusted him. He put his reputation on the line every time he did something. He’d never buy a stolen vehicle. Never. That much I was sure of.

  “I’ll run it anyway, just to be sure,” Cobi said. “Someone get Mack on the line. He’ll need to be here for this.”

  I waited for confirmation as Cobi sent the number in to dispatch. From there, they’d run the VIN through their database to see if any flags came up. I wondered, not for the first time either, how they’d do a check on the UK number. Would they have to call someone else? Would it bring in a whole other agency? I exhaled. The more I thought about what was about to happen, the more I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

  “I’ll call Mack.”

  “Wait,” Cobi said, placing his hand on my arm. “Give me two more seconds.”

  So, I did. When dispatch came back with the VIN being for a 1992 Chevy Suburban, I laughed and walked out. I’d have to make the call now and do the one thing I dreaded most. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I scrolled through the missed messages from Mack and frowned. My chest ached more than my stomach churned. This was going to devastate him. I hit send on the phone then put it to my ear.

  “Ireland,” Mack said. “I’m glad you called. I’ve been worried about you.”

  Did he have to be so fucking caring? Did he have to twist me into more knots as I stood there trying to formulate a way to tell him his car was stolen when he bought it and now we were all going to be in trouble?

  “I need you.” I croaked the words out, gagging as I did.

  “Ireland!” he shouted, fear filling his voice. “What’s wrong?” He yelled at people as he hurried through wherever he’d been then slammed a door behind him. “Talk to me, baby. What’s happened? Are you okay? Your brothers?”

  God. Did he have to be so concerned about me? “We’re fine. But...” I let out a breath trying to gather up my will power to tell him the truth. This is going to suck. “Mack, I need you here because it’s about your car.”

  “Spit it out, baby. Tell me what’s going on. You’re not making any sense.” His tone turned frantic. I’d never heard him like this, and I swore I never would again. It sucked. I explained what happened while Landon and I were working on the repairs.

  “I didn’t think much of it, Mack. Shit happens. Sometimes people don’t know where all t
he plates are. Sometimes they want both to keep the authentic look of the car, but you should know the VIN assigned to the Aston Martin came from a 1992 Chevy Suburban.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Mack roared. “How the fuck did this happen? You have to believe me—I don’t buy stolen property or shit from chop shops.”

  I jumped at his tone, wincing because I knew his reputation was on the line. I was just as responsible because I could have stopped Edgar and I didn’t.

  “I do.” I never once believed he had anything to do with this at any point in time. Mack staked his life on everything he did. “I even said as much, and Cobi doesn’t believe you had anything to do with it either. Which leaves the auction house where you bought the vehicle.”

  “Lux Auto Auction,” Mack said. “Shit.”

  “Oh no...” I pressed the heel of my palm to my eye while shaking my head. Tears sprung to my eyes. In three words, my world came crashing down around me. “Mack, there’s something else I need to tell you too.”

  “You can tell me anything, baby. What’s wrong?” The soft way he spoke to me only tore my insides up more.

  “The reason I’m here at my shop and why I moved is because of Lux Auto. I found out Edgar, the owner, was fencing cars.” I braced myself for whatever Mack had to say.

  Sometimes things were too good to be true. I got a taste of what it’d be like to have a man in my life who truly cared about me and in an instant, a cosmic joke, it was all over.

  Chapter Nine

  Mack

  Bright yellow caution tape had been wrapped around one of the bays, and two police cruisers greeted me when I pulled into the parking lot of Banks Automotive. Cobi was leaning against his vehicle as though he’d been waiting for me. Chances were, he was, considering my car was causing this uproar.

  A quick scan of the lot didn’t show either Ireland or her siblings. No doubt they were situated inside the building somewhere, not hiding but keeping out of the officers’ way so they could do their job without delay. I hadn’t even opened up the driver side door before a hauler was backing in. It’d be taking the Aston to their impound until everything was worked out.

  Cobi wasn’t fucking around, and I was grateful I had the wherewithal to make sure I’d snagged all my paperwork concerning the Aston after I’d gotten off the phone with Ireland. My girl already had a metric shit ton on her plate. I wasn’t going to allow my car to ruin her, even if neither of us had known the car was stolen. I had every intention of informing Cobi of such. After, of course, I found Ireland and made sure she was okay.

  The frantic call from her had taken at least a year or two off my life. I could still hear the pain—fuck—the fear in her voice. No doubt Ireland thought I’d be upset at her for the loss of a possible two-plus million payday. The blame laid on the auction house, as far as I was concerned. Although I was a lot of things, I was no thief.

  It was also pretty fucking amazing I’d even made it here without crashing my car, considering I had done double the speed limit to get here.

  Cobi pushed off the car he was leaning against and headed to me. “Mack—”

  I didn’t even pause in my stride to the front door. “Later,” I gritted out between my teeth, aware I got away with brushing the other man off because of our friendship.

  Cobi had a woman; he’d hopefully get my priority right now was Ireland. Once I assured myself all was well with my girl, I’d answer any questions he had for me.

  I pushed open the glass door with force. Landon and Jackson were behind the counter, talking quietly. Both looked worried. “Where’s Ireland?” I asked, skipping over pleasantries.

  Jackson was the first to acknowledge me with a chin lift toward the office behind them.

  I walked with purpose through the area between the wall and the countertop, not even acknowledging the office door that was labeled ‘private’ before opening it without a quick knock.

  Hunter was kneeling in front of Ireland, softly talking to his sister who was curled up in a ball, like she was trying to protect herself against what was occurring outside the room. She’d been crying too—was still fucking crying, and she was biting her lower lip.

  Hunter stood. Ireland didn’t.

  Ireland had strikes. I had lessons. She was about to learn the first one. Short of her fucking another guy, and even then, she was mine. I was never going to let her go, and we’d work through whatever life deemed to throw at us together.

  “Mack,” Hunter said, his eyes flickering back and forth between his sister and me. They were filled with concern.

  Couldn’t blame him. I knew more was at stake than just a car. The family was relatively new to the area and could lose its reputation. Nothing like small town living, where everyone knew everyone else’s business. Even if she was only fixing a stolen car, people would judge her like she’d been the one to steal it. I wasn’t particularly worried about myself. I’d survive whatever was thrown my way, thanks in part to the Redman name and how long my family had lived in this town.

  My automotive business was lucrative, but it wasn’t everything. I also had Flame and enough money in the bank that I’d never need to worry about cashflow for the rest of my life, even if I gave up both businesses tomorrow.

  Couldn’t say the same for Ireland or her brothers. But I’d do everything in my power to make sure that didn’t happen.

  I didn’t have time to soothe anyone but the woman sitting in the chair. I stepped to the side, opening up the doorway. “Give us a minute, Hunter.” Ireland hadn’t even acknowledged me yet. Like Cobi, I’d chat with Hunter once I was done talking to his sister. After I reassured my girl in the chair all was still good between us.

  After a moment more, Hunter walked out of the office, closing the door behind him with a slam.

  Moving to stand in front of her, I waited for her to notice me. When she didn’t, I dropped down, squatting before her. I laid my hand on her ice-cold fingers. She tucked her chin deeper into her knees. “Cupcake.” Silence. “Babe, look at me.” My tone was firm, letting her know I wasn’t messing around.

  When she finally lifted her face, her eyelashes were wet and spiky. Her pretty emerald eyes were dark with pain, and it killed me. “I’m sorry, Mack.” Her voice caught on a sob.

  “Aww, cupcake.” I maneuvered my hands behind her, pulling her from the chair and into my arms before I stood. “You did the right thing contacting the police, and you’ve got zero to be sorry about.”

  Ireland buried her face in my neck, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if she was wiping her nose on my suit or inhaling my scent. I smiled when I heard her inhale, knowing it had been the latter.

  “It’s not your fault, babe,” I assured her again, comprehending where her mind was at the moment. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I brought this shitstorm right to your front door.”

  Her breath hitched. “I was already knee-deep in it before you though.”

  She’d had started to tell me her involvement in Lux when she called me but was pulled away when Cobi had questions.

  “Talk to me.” I felt her soft sigh across my neck. “Cobi is waiting on me. I brushed him off to get to you first. I give him about ten minutes before he comes looking for me to get answers, so every minute you don’t talk is less time we have.”

  I got comfortable on the floor, situating her so we were face-to-face, her legs on either side of my thighs.

  “Little over a year ago, I used to work for Lux.” Her long pause had me watching her emotions as they played across her face. Whatever she was about to tell me, my gut said I wasn’t going to like it. “I was…ah…” She took a deep fortifying breath. “Involved with the owner. Edgar.”

  “Involved?” I inquired, needing her to confirm what I already suspected. I knew she wasn’t a virgin. I also understood I had no say what she did before meeting me. What angered me, however, was the fear and guilt in her gaze. I could kill the son of a bitch who put that in her gaze.

  Her eyes dropped to mine.
Pain filled those pretty green orbs. “Yeah. I’d worked at his garage for about nine months. We dated for six of those nine months.” Her eyes dropped to her hands, her cheeks bright red with embarrassment. “Until the first time I was working on a car, and I realized it was stolen.”

  “And?” I nudged when she went silent. I needed to know as much as possible before Cobi banged on the door.

  Ireland sighed and continued. “I brought it to Edgar’s attention. He told me he’d take care of it. All he did was feed me a line of bullshit.” She snorted in disgust. “As a mechanic, you come to realize shit happens with cars. Often, people don’t know they’re driving a boosted or chopped car, trusting the person they purchased the car from or the mechanic who worked on it.”

  “You believed him,” I said, ignoring the churn of my stomach just thinking of her with another man. It did shit to me on a caveman level.

  “Yeah, and I was stupid, Mack, because it didn’t just happen once. Three more times in less than six weeks. I brought it to his attention each time, and he always told me he’d take care of it. I stupidly assumed he had. Hunter worked in a different garage, and I finally explained to him what was going on. He wanted me to go to the cops and pleaded with me to. I didn’t. And that,” she said, pounding on her chest with her hand, “is on me. My inability to do the right thing ended up endangering my family, forcing us to sell my dead parents’ house and leave the only home we’d ever known under the cover of night. The place Dad bought for our mom and where she brought each of her kids home from the hospital—gone.”

  “The boys don’t hate or resent you, Ireland,” I reminded her. The siblings were close. Sure, they busted on each other all the damn time, but under it all, there was love. And they weren’t afraid to show it to each other.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “They don’t have to. I resent myself enough for all of them.”

  Getting off track would eat up time we didn’t have, so I prodded, “What happened the last time you brought it to Edgar’s attention?”