Until Ireland

by Tl Reeve

  He shook his head. “You might not see it yet, Ireland, but Mack loves you, I’m one jealous son of a bitch.”

  Well. Then. When he put it that way... “Then go find love, Landon. Just remember, I’ll kick anyone’s ass if they break your heart.”

  “Same goes for me, for you,” he said. “Now, tell me, on a scale of one to Aston Martin, how excited are you to work on this vehicle?”

  “Very.” I followed my brother toward the car in question. With all of Landon’s talk of love, I wondered about Mack and I. Stupid, because of everything going on, but could he possibly love me? Did I love him?

  I think I did. I might have fallen in love with him the night of our date. Guilt ate at me. If I was in love with Mack Redman, then why the fuck hadn’t I? Better yet, why hadn’t I told him the truth this morning?

  That was the million dollar question I didn’t have an answer to yet.

  Chapter Eight

  Mack

  * * *

  Work was hectic, hence why I hadn’t yet hauled my ass to Ireland’s garage to find out what the hell had happened this morning. I wasn’t blind. There was a notable difference between the Ireland who rocked my world twice before breakfast and the Ireland after receiving the phone call which sent her running out of the house.

  The woman in question wasn’t talking to me either.

  Rather, she went the route of sending me racy pictures over text with her and the Aston. Not that I wasn’t grateful for them—I was. They’d go into my spank bank for consumption later on. I could also admit I was jealous of the hunk of metal. If she kept it up, when the Aston was finished, I was going to drive the car to my house, park it in my garage, and fuck Ireland on the damn hood, just so we could both work out a little pent-up aggression.

  Right now, however, I had to get a grip on my temper. Whatever caused her to rush out of the house also stopped her from talking to me. I had a feeling being pissed off wouldn’t help the situation either, and she wouldn’t be willing to explain what happened if I jumped feet first into her shit. I knew that like I knew the sun would rise in the east and set in the west every damn day.

  “Mack?”

  “Yeah?” I said, lifting my head from the report in front of me to focus on the beverage manager of Flame.

  “How do you want to handle it?” he asked.

  “Handle what, Jack?” I inquired nonchalantly, praying no one noticed my lack of concentration.

  “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Rather than answer, I stared at him until he huffed and finally asked his question again. “It looks like we’re going to have an issue keeping stock on the Grand Maya Tequila. The distributor is recommending another brand. Did you want to try it?”

  Fuck, I’d completely zoned out on the entire conversation. Hell, the entire meeting. It wasn’t like me to fuck off mentally, and I wasn’t proud of it, but I wouldn’t admit that to Jack. My business was important to me, and my employees were well aware of my focus and drive when it came to both when leading my teams.

  I shook my head. “No, the Grand Maya pairs with our Seafood Tower, and it’s a major selling point for both. If Johnson can’t find it, we’ll find someone else who can.” I paused. “Anything else?”

  Jack shook his head. “I’m good.”

  I glanced at each of my other managers sitting around my desk for our weekly meeting. When none of them raised a concern or issue, I dismissed them all and picked up my phone to dial Hunter’s cell before my office door even closed. I wasn’t risking calling the business number on the chance my little wildcat would pick up the phone.

  Hunter answered after the second ring. “Banks.” The other man sounded flustered. Word had gotten out how I’d taken some of my work to their garage, and now it seemed the sleepy family business was in demand.

  “You got a sec, Hunter?” I didn’t even bother identifying myself. Within a day of Ireland spending the weekend at my house, all her brothers had my number, and I’d made damn sure I had theirs. I also had zero issues with going behind her back to find out what the hell was going on. I’d deal with any fallout from Ireland later.

  “Is it a personal or business question, Mack? Because Ireland is handling the Aston. All questions or issues need to go through her,” he replied.

  I liked my balls where they were and therefore already understood the situation. “It’s personal.”

  “Hold on,” he said curtly as I tapped my pen on the desk in frustration. The blaring music in the background disappeared, and I suspected Hunter had moved someplace their conversation couldn’t be heard.

  At least I hoped so.

  “What’s up?”

  I didn’t beat around the bush. “What the fuck is going on with your sister?”

  There was a beat of silence before Hunter replied blandly, “What do you mean?”

  “She left my house this morning like a demon was on her ass, and I didn’t miss the devastated look on her face,” I said gruffly.

  “Did you ask her?” Hunter hedged.

  “No, Hunter, I didn’t. I just said fuck it, I’ll go behind her back and call you and risk her wrath and possibly gaining a strike or two from her. Of course, I fucking asked her,” I all but growled.

  He chuckled. “She still playing that game with you?”

  I snorted. She tried to occasionally, but I got her to remove them by keeping her on the precipice of orgasm until she promised to wipe the slate clean. It was something we both enjoyed. Yet, I doubted Hunter would be remotely interested in that tidbit of information.

  “Listen, I asked her before she left. She brushed me off and has been sending me pictures all morning of her with the Aston,” I answered, more than a little frustrated. It was an odd combo to be pissed off and aroused at the same time.

  Hunter released a hefty sighed before he gave in and relayed to me the events of the morning. “Someone took her bike. I can’t tell you who or when because we heard nothing.” The more he talked, the more my blood pressure rose. “So, when she came home and didn’t see her bike, all hell broke loose.” He grumbled under his breath for a second. “I didn’t think we’d need an alarm on the house or garage. But I’m telling you, Mack, we should have heard the door open. Yet, nothing. Plus, our vehicles were there. Yeah, the bike is worth a good bit of money, but our vehicles are too. This was targeted.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Hunter had a point. I couldn’t be sure of the exact monetary value of each of their cars, but together, they had almost three hundred grand sitting behind their house at any given moment. Add in a Triumph, and the value went higher.

  “She didn’t tell you any of this?” Hunter asked after explaining what happened.

  Clenching my teeth in anger, I took a moment to center myself. “Fuck no.”

  “Don’t be too mad at her, Mack. Up until this morning, she’d been telling us it wasn’t a big deal. We all just assumed it was one of our one-night stands gone bad and the harassment would eventually just peter out.”

  Hunter’s comment pissed me off. Those boys should have more respect for their sister instead of getting Ireland into messes due to their fuck buddies. If the police found out the incidences were because of some chick the brothers had banged, I planned on beating their asses for putting their sister in this position. Ireland should never have to handle any blowback because her brothers needed to get their dicks wet. For a second, I wondered just how many strikes I’d earn for that conversation.

  “Yeah, if that is the case though, why would they go after Ireland?”

  “A one-night stand wouldn’t realize Ireland is our sister,” Hunter stated, his tone filled with traces with regret. “All they’d see is us living with a chick.”

  “Maybe you guys should rethink bringing your dates back to the house,” I remarked, calmer than I felt. If what Hunter said was the truth, then moving Ireland into the ranch house should happen sooner rather than later.

  “Might not be a bad idea to do just that,” Hunters said.
>
  “Alright, back to the topic at hand. Who have you guys pissed off, recently?”

  “Not us. Cobi suggested otherwise this morning. He feels it might be someone with a hard-on for Ireland. It’s never our shit or the shop that’s getting vandalized, with the exception of the dick on our roll-down door, only her stuff.”

  I had to admit Cobi’s observation made sense. “Has she pissed someone off recently?”

  Hunter chuckled. “We’re talking about Ireland here, Mack. Anything is possible with that hothead. Although, honestly, I don’t think it’s one of our customers. Ireland is the only one of us who doesn’t get flustered or upset when it comes to dealing with them. Except for you, of course. I’d never seen her talk to a customer like she did with you.”

  I kept my mouth shut. Ireland’s response on our first meeting had been visceral, and she’d been reacting more to the situation than anything else. The same could be said for me.

  “You stated Cobi is running the investigation?” I asked, knowing the other man and how good of an investigator he was on the force. I’d give him a call later. Sometimes cops weren’t always forthcoming during their assessments, often suspicious of the victim until evidence showed otherwise. And who could blame them when the bike was worth some bank?

  “Yeah. Ire’s filed a report every time there has been an incident. This is the first time the cops have shown an interest though. I suspect it’s because the bike is a classic and is worth a shit ton of money, plus the insurance company will be getting involved.”

  Ireland’s bike wasn’t priceless because of its monetary value. I knew her heart would be heavy, and I realized the pictures she’d been sending me all day might be her way of dealing with the situation.

  I wasn’t going to stand for some asshole fucking with her life. It wasn’t like I wasn’t sympathetic to her pain. I was, but she should’ve trusted me enough to tell me what was going on this morning. I shouldn’t have had to call her brother to get the down-low.

  “I swear, I’m going to spank her ass for not telling me any of this,” I grumbled, not giving a fuck if her eldest sibling heard. I was pretty sure Hunter knew I was in love with his sister and would never hurt her.

  Hunter chuckled. “Yeah, man, listen, that’s a little bit TMI for me, considering your girlfriend is my fucking baby sister.”

  “I’m not apologizing.”

  “Didn’t expect you to.” Hunter paused. “Listen, Mack, in her defense, trust isn’t something that comes so easily to Ireland. Right or wrong, she’s got her reasons.”

  Again, Hunter was right. Because I didn’t know those reasons, it was a source of frustration for me. More than anything, being on the outside of this pissed me off. I’d seen the shadows she tried to hide reflected in her gaze when we were together. I’d made it my goal to remove them permanently.

  I sighed. “You know the reasons, Hunter?”

  “Yeah, Mack, I do.”

  I rubbed at the hair on my neck as it bristled in discord because he knew something I didn’t. “But I don’t.”

  Hunter sighed. “Not my story to tell, Mack.”

  I gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I wasn’t planning to ask you the whos and whys, Hunter. It’s Ireland’s responsibility, not yours.”

  “Go easy on her then, her bike, it meant—”

  I snapped, unable to hold my anger back anymore. “I know why her bike means so much, Hunter. We do talk to each other.”

  “Then you know she’s hurting,” he asserted, adding an edge to his voice.

  “I do now.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” he prodded.

  I looked up at the ceiling in my office, noticing how the lamp on my desk and credenza behind me cast odd shadows.

  “Mack?”

  “I’m going to handle it, Hunter,” I grumbled before saying goodbye and disconnecting the call.

  I tossed my phone on the desk in frustration, no doubt cracking the delicate glass screen. Whatever. I had enough money to replace the damn phone. Decision made, I was going to go see Ireland. Flame could run without me for a couple of hours. If shit came up, they could call me. Or, better yet, they could handle it themselves since they knew how to delegate around here too.

  I was in the middle of gathering my wallet and keys when the decision to leave was taken out of my hands thanks to the knock on my door. “Yeah?” I called out, not caring if the person on the other side heard all of my frustrations in that single word.

  When the door opened, Sacha stood waiting, his face flushed beet-red with anger. He hadn’t been in our earlier meeting because he’d needed to take care of something in the kitchen. Judging by the expression on his face, it looked as if I wasn’t going to be able to go after all.

  I jerked my desk drawer back open, harder than I needed to, and tossed my keys and wallet back from where I just removed them before I waved the irritated head chef of Flame in.

  “What’s wrong?” I tried not to take my frustrations on him, but what else could go south today? Turns out, I’d regret thinking those words.

  What was going on with Ireland was just the start of what was about to be dumped into my lap.

  Ireland

  Music was my refuge, especially when I was in a mood. Metal blared from the speakers as I began to pull the Aston Martin apart, piece by piece, before I laid it out on a drop cloth numbered specifically for me to put the vehicle back together. Not that I couldn’t just drop a part and put the new one in—I could. This, however, allowed me to focus on the task at hand, not making sure I had six bolts for a part and only found five.

  Underneath the vehicle was Landon. We were working in tandem today. While he removed and replaced the transmission, I did the engine repairs. We’d be more productive this way and hopefully have the repairs fixed sooner rather than later. As it stood, we had three more vehicles show up on the lot for inspection and fixing in the last four hours. I supposed I should be happy about all the work being brought to us, yet I couldn’t shake the upset from my bike being stolen right out from under everyone’s noses. It left a bad taste in my mouth, but thankfully, with the exception of Landon, everyone was giving me a wide birth.

  “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 i
f 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.”