Page 43 of Until Ireland

“Uh, Ireland,” Landon called from the pit below me. “I need you to come look at this.” Landon could be a perfectionist, hell we all were when it came to vehicles, though he didn’t call me to his side for help often, or more importantly, ever.

Curious, I put down my wrench and grabbed the grease rag beside me. I eased my way down the steps then joined him in the pit at the hole the driveshaft left. His flashlight was on, and he pointed to one of the stamped tags on the body. In foreign vehicles, stamp plates carried what we’d consider VIN numbers. Some had part numbers along with a set of assembly line digits. When a vehicle was transported overseas, an inspection was usually done by a DOT—Department of Transportation—agent, so the owner could properly upgrade the vehicle to our emission standards.

Once the upgrades were completed, the title along with all the paperwork from the vehicle was taken to a DMV to have the title transferred over to a US form. The vehicle was then registered in the US database, which gave the owner a US VIN number as well. Most of the time, the plates were replaced in a vehicle with the stamp of the US inspection to show the vehicle had gone through proper channels, including the plate on the door panel and several under the hood and on the chassis. I thought I’d find the same with the Aston Martin, but unfortunately, I was wrong.

“What the hell?” I stared at the plate on the chassis and the one on the transmission. One had been changed, but the other hadn’t. Could be an oversight though. People in a hurry did shit jobs, and if the original owner didn’t properly care for the vehicle, well, nothing would surprise me. Yet I couldn’t stop this sinking feeling that something was wrong. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach as I let out a shaky breath. “How many?”

“So far, three,” Landon said. “I’m going to take a look at the number on the dash and see if it matches this one here.” He pointed to the tin type on the frame of the car. “I have a sick feeling about this.”

So did I. “Do it. Let’s not touch another thing until we’re sure.” I climbed out of the hole and went to the engine. When I spotted the VIN number before, I hadn’t thought a thing about it. Not many would. So, I went back to where I’d been looking and checked a secondary spot where another plate would be. There, the numbers surprised me. They were the original SM VIN numbers for UK registration along with a US VIN number that didn’t match the one on the dash. Nothing special there though for the UK SM VIN. Some kept the original so they could order parts for their vehicle. However, what struck me as strange was the fact both numbers weren’t stamped everywhere as they should’ve been if a professional had inspected the car.

“Ire,” Landon called again. “There’s no VIN on the door.”

The knot in my stomach grew tighter. Between my bike being stolen and now this... “We’re going to have to stop all repairs and call the police.” When it rained, it fucking poured.

“Should you call Mack?” Landon joined me at the hood, looking out over the property.

“I will.” I didn’t think Mack had anything to do with this. In fact, I doubted he knew he bought something that could potentially be hot. “Do we have any paperwork on where he bought this car?”

Landon shook his head. “No. Something isn’t right here, Ire.”

No, it wasn’t. I only hoped who I thought sold Mack this car wasn’t the perpetrator, because if it was Edgar Lux, hell was about to rain down on all of us. “Let’s get police here first, maybe Cobi and Franks, to try and keep this hush-hush for now then I’ll call Mack. I’d hate for this to be a simple misunderstanding and not a chop.”

Landon grunted. “You’re the boss. I guess it’s easy enough to send the parts back if shit falls through.”

“Exactly. We’ll plan for the worst and hope for the best.” I dropped my rag on the cloth. “I need some air. I’ll be outside.”

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. “Thechop 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.”

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