Page 52 of Until Ireland

So, the truth would negate some of the lie, right?

I grabbed my leathers and cut from the closet and headed back into my office to change. No sense in disturbing her after everything that happened. By the time I stepped out the door of the house, I had a confirmation text from Jax. They’d be waiting for us at the lot. A sense of relief flooded me. In a couple of hours, we’d have Ireland’s bike, and we could begin regaining the upper hand.

An hour later, I pulled into the parking lot of the auction house on the back of my custom-made bike that Wes built for me. The place was dark. Not even a guard cased the area to make sure no one trespassed. Jax stepped out of the darkness into one of the parking lot lights, illuminating him and the guys he’d called in a favor from. They crossed the parking lot to where we sat on our bikes. The loose gait and easy stride of the men belied their deadliness.

“There are six cameras, all of them focused on the main area. Ireland’s motorcycle is located near the back.” The space behind the lot was dense with trees. “From what we’ve gathered while waiting, no one must think the wooded area is easy to get through, since there’s no cameras or security there.” Jax snorted. “In laymen’s terms, this place lacks all kinds of security. I think Edgar runs the business on sheer brute force. He has a false sense of superiority and safety here.”

“Make sense,” I mumbled. “He beats the shit out of anyone who tries to steal from him or tries to go to the cops. I hate fuckers who use fear as a strength.”

“It’ll be his downfall,” Wes said. “Let’s take a look at the back-end of the property and then we’ll figure out the best way to get inside and retrieve her bike.

I nodded in agreement, following Jax and his guys around the perimeter of the area. We stuck as close to the metal fencing as possible to hide from the peripheral cameras. Since they kept them low instead of high, there were tons of blind spots we could work with. As we rounded the final corner, I noticed the three-quarters of an inch gap between the fence line and the trees. It was big enough for us to walk single file toward the area where the bike originally had been located. We came to a stop halfway down the path and crouched.

“Okay, the bike is approximately one hundred feet north of where we’re standing.” Jax pointed in the direction of where the Triumph rested. “Downside, we’ll have to walk it out.”

There was no way we could cut through sheet metal without causing a scene. “There’s a keypad lock on the gate. You got a way to bypass it?”

“Do monkeys fling shit?” Jax cocked a brow.

I lifted my hands. “Excuse me.”

Jax huffed a laugh. “I can crack the code. We have to watch for the cameras though. That’s the dangerous part.”

“We’ll have to time it,” Wes said. “Mack and I will direct you through the lot. I’ve been watching the way the cameras turn while we’ve been out here. They’re on a twenty second timer.”

“Oh joy,” Jax grumbled. “Talk about pressure to perform.”

I laughed. “You’ve got this.”

Jax and his guys climbed the fence with ease then lowered themselves back into the auction lot. When they disappeared, Wes and I went back to the gate to wait. We pulled out his phone and opened up his text message with Jax to begin relaying directions to him so they could maneuver through the lot.

I only wished I could be as relaxed as Wes appeared, leaning against the wall of the main building. I glanced around the area, watching for any suspicious activity. It all seemed a little too easy, but then again, brute force did offer a false sense of security. Too bad Edgar was going to learn the hard way that he’d fucked with the wrong people.

A few minutes later, the gate opened and Jax was pushing Ireland’s bike out into the open. “It’s not drivable. They fucked her ignition system.”

I bit back a growl of frustration. “Fuckers.”

“Good thing I brought the truck then.” Wes hitched his thumb toward the big-ass pickup sitting next to my motorcycle across the street. “Had a feeling this might happen.”

“Then let’s get out of here before someone comes snooping around.” Jax continued to push the bike out of the parking lot.

I’d laugh at the lack of security this place had if I wasn’t so furious with myself. I should’ve done a better job of making sure the business was legit, and I should’ve gotten Macey to run the Aston Martin to be sure nothing was outstanding on the vehicle. Once we had the Triumph loaded and strapped down, we headed out. Jax and his guys disappeared, leaving me to follow Wes. By the time we pulled into the long driveway to the ranch, the sun was already cresting the horizon, turning the early morning sky from dark blues to light purples and pinks.

Together, after unstrapping the bike, we walked the Triumph into my garage and closed the door. I’d show Ireland what we’d done after she was awake and had eaten something. “Thanks, man.”

“Not a problem,” Wes said. “You’re going to have to deal with this shit though. Bad enough you got tangled in the fucking web, but your woman is too.”

I realized that. “Next thing on my list of shit to do.” I smacked him on the back as I walked him to his truck. “This shit is far from over.”

Wes grunted. “Seeing Ireland’s bike gone will stir the fucker up, but it’s not like he can file a stolen property report. He’d have to explain how he got her bike in the first place.” Which was why I wanted to do it this way.

“Exactly. It’ll make a shit ton of paperwork for Cobi in the end, but it’ll also show we’re not to be fucked with.” I glanced at the house. “More importantly, she isn’t to be fucked with.”

“Sure enough.” Wes glanced at the window overlooking the garage area. “Go take care of your woman and keep me posted about your car.”

I nodded. “Thanks for tonight. I appreciate it.” I shook his hand, grateful we got her bike and humbled the MC had my back.

Wes lifted his hand as he opened the truck door and climbed in. When he was halfway down the drive, I stepped into the house and quietly made my way back to my office. Since it was close to seven, I knew Marcus would be up, probably perusing the auctions for a vintage 1970 Porsche 917K. The asshole had been on the hunt for one for about twenty years. Cobi said Marcus was number four on his list of people to call, which meant my time was running out. It still churned my gut to inform my friend what happened to his Aston Martin.

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