Page 44 of Until Ireland

“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 the 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.

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