Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4) by Matt Lincoln (motivational novels TXT) 📗

search on those names in particular and had deliberately chosen to hide in the home of a relative with a different last name to throw us off. I smiled triumphantly as I stared at the address on the screen before picking my phone up off my desk to call Junior.

35

Charlie

Northern Ireland was beautiful. We hadn’t heard back from Fiona yet, but Junior and I had decided to head up to Northern Ireland anyway while waiting for any updates. The drive would take a few hours, and this way, we’d be ready to move as soon as we got a specific location. Like the Irish countryside, the long, narrow roads of Northern Ireland were bordered by lush green grass fields. Unlike the southern countryside, though, the sky up here was clear and bright.

I’d gotten used to sitting on the right side of the car and driving on the left side of the road by that point, so I was able to drive without any anxiety and just enjoy the passing scenery. Even if I had still been struggling, though, it wouldn’t have been a problem, as there were barely any other cars on the road.

A few yards behind us in a police car were Seamus and Officer O’Haines, one of the Garda who had helped us during the bust at the docks the previous night. Unlike the Republic of Ireland, which had the Garda Siochana as their primary police force, Northern Ireland had the PSNI, or the Police Service of Northern Ireland. Since the arrest would be taking place up here, we would require the local police’s assistance and cooperation, which is why only Seamus and O’Haines had come.

I drove past a sign indicating a petrol station just a few kilometers away and checked the gas meter on the car. It was running low, which wasn’t surprising considering we’d been on the road for a few hours by then.

I flashed my rear lights to signal to Seamus that I would pull over and then pulled into the gas station just a few minutes later. The station itself consisted of nothing more than a small, yellow house that I assumed was some kind of convenience store and two simple white pumps set side by side a few feet from the entrance of the house. One was marked “unleaded,” and the other was labeled “diesel,” but I couldn’t figure out how I was supposed to pay for it.

There was nothing around the small building aside from smooth concrete and gravel, so I parked the car in an empty space near the pumps since there wasn’t anything that looked like a dedicated parking space.

“Good idea,” Junior nodded as I pushed open the door. “We’ve been driving for a while. I should get out and stretch my legs, too.”

I walked over to the pumps just as Seamus pulled into the station behind us. They were the same size and shape as a mini-refrigerator and looked more like checkout counters that I’d find in a grocery store than gasoline pumps. An electronic screen mounted above the two pumps displayed the amount of gas pumped and the price, but I couldn’t figure out how to pay.

I was still examining them when Seamus came up behind me.

“You pay for it inside,” he explained, correctly guessing what was causing my confusion. “After you pump.”

“After?” I clarified skeptically. “How do they stop people from just filling up and then leaving without paying for it?”

“Well, that does happen sometimes,” Seamus shrugged. “There are always a few bad apples. But for the most part, people are honest and pay what they owe.”

I blinked at him in surprise. Maybe I was just jaded from dealing with criminals all the time, but I couldn’t imagine the honor system working out that well in the United States. It felt odd, but I went ahead and did as he recommended and began to fill up the car. To my surprise, it started to pump immediately, even though I hadn’t paid anything yet.

“You look like you can’t believe your eyes,” Seamus chuckled as he watched me fill the car up.

“I can’t,” I scoffed. “People would definitely take advantage of this in Las Vegas. I know I would have, back when I was still a dumb teenager. I was, unfortunately, all too familiar with stealing back then.”

“Ah, well, we all make mistakes,” Seamus clapped me on the back. “And you grew into a decent man, so there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Anyway, don’t let it overflow. It should be about done by now.”

I removed the pump from the car and replaced it before glancing up at the electronic screen. It said I owed fifty-one euros for forty liters of petrol, and honestly, I didn’t know how to gauge either of those amounts.

“Aye, that’s a bit steep,” Seamus grumbled as he lifted the other nozzle to fill his own car. “It’s not surprising, though, considering we’re up here out in the middle of nowhere. There’s always a surcharge in the countryside. Anyway, let’s head inside and pay.”

I followed him into the small yellow house. As I suspected, the inside was filled with narrow rows of shelves. It looked similar to other convenience stores I’d been in, except for the fact that I didn’t recognize half the brands. I spotted Junior at the end of one of the aisles, examining two different packages of what looked like chips.

“Hello,” the elderly man behind the counter greeted us, barely bothering to glance up from the magazine he was reading. “That’ll be fifty-one, twenty-six.”

I stepped forward and handed over the bills. The man reached one arm over to the cash register and moved his fingers over the keys surprisingly fast in what was obviously a practiced and familiar movement. He quickly counted out the change before holding it out to me.

“Have a nice day,” he yawned as I took the coins.

“I’ll pay for mine, as well,” Seamus declared as he stepped toward the counter with his own wallet. I walked