Page 7 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

He held up his hands. “Relax, big brother. I’m not saying we shouldn’t take it seriously, but maybe we’re looking at this the wrong way.”

Owen stopped pacing. “What are you getting at?”

Mason leaned against the tool chest, looking completely unbothered. “You think one of us made a mistake. But what if we didn’t?”

I exchanged a look with Owen, who frowned.

“What are you saying?” he pressed.

Mason tilted his head toward the tray of lug nuts I had tossed down. “I’m saying, what if someone else loosened them?”

Silence.

I stared at him, waiting for him to crack a grin, to throw out some half-assed joke about saboteurs in Medford. But he didn’t.

And that was when my stomach turned to stone.

Owen shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Who the hell would?—”

“I don’t know.” Mason shrugged. “But I know you, and I know Ethan, and I know me. And none of us are careless enough to screw up something this major.”

I dragged a hand down my face, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

It was ridiculous. It had to be.

But was it?

The sabotage at the shop hadn't been constant, hadn't been obvious. A part here, a misplaced tool there, a delay in a shipment that should’ve been routine.

Minor things. Annoying, but nothing outright dangerous.

Until now.

I glanced at Owen. He was staring down at the tray of lug nuts like they held the answer to a question none of us wanted to ask.

Then his jaw tightened. “We need to check every car we worked on this week.”

I nodded, already moving toward the logbook. “Agreed. If someone’s messing with us, we need to catch it before someone actually gets hurt.”

Mason exhaled, pushing off the tool chest. “Guess I'll put on my detective hat.”

I glared at him. “This isn’t funny.”

His easy grin faded. “I know. But you're pissed, Owen’s brooding, and someone has to keep this from turning into a full-blown crisis.”

I didn’t argue, mostly because he wasn’t wrong.

Owen rubbed the back of his neck again. “So what now?”

I tightened my grip on the logbook. “Now? We check every damn car. And we keep our eyes open.”

Because if someone was screwing with Grady’s Auto, they had made a big mistake.

And I was going to find out who the hell it was.

Mason let out a low whistle and flopped back onto the workbench. “Damn, Ethan. Your blood pressure must be through the roof.”

I shot him a glare. “You think this is funny?”

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