The Fight In Us: A Brother's Best Friend College Romance (The Four Book 4)

by Becca Steele

  I shook my head, letting her do whatever she wanted, my attention drawn to her face. Or more specifically, her mouth. Tamping down the urge to lean forwards and just kiss her, I attempted to focus on what she was doing.

  Everything was quiet for a few minutes as she tapped on the keys, scrolling through information so fast that my eyes couldn’t keep up. When she’d located our secure storage, she opened a folder, clicking through the files quickly. Eventually she cleared her throat, bringing up a video on the screen and hitting Play.

  I hadn’t seen this one. But I recognised the location straight away.

  “Dad’s house,” Caiden said in a low tone, and Lena nodded. He grimaced. “When was this?”

  When Lena didn’t answer and the video kept playing, he fell silent. We watched as the camera panned down the corridor in my dad’s home, slightly shaky. A door cracked open, and I already knew what I’d see.

  The room that no one talked about.

  Sure enough, a TV screen came into view, then another. One displayed a betting scoreboard, and the other showed a currently empty shallow pit, surrounded by metal bars all around. There were two hinged openings either side of the ring, which I knew the dogs would come through.

  After a moment, the camera turned away from the TV screens and panned around the room, focusing on the people who were watching the TVs. It was mostly the backs of heads, but I could recognise most of them. One guy came into profile, close to the camera, and the picture went black.

  Zayde hissed through his teeth, but that was the only reaction he gave at seeing his dad on-screen. Voices, too muffled to make out, sounded, and the next moment, the video ended.

  “Wait, can you go back? Slow it down,” I instructed.

  At the same time, Winter glanced over at Lena. “What were the voices saying?”

  Lena grinned. “Zayde’s dad caught me loitering. I played the clueless girl, said I was looking for my brother. He seemed to buy it.”

  “Good thinking.” Winter returned her smile as she went through the footage again, this time going frame by frame.

  “There!” I held up my hand, and she paused. “Zoom in on the top left corner.”

  “That’s him, isn’t it?” Caiden spoke up, and I nodded.

  Martin Smith was leaning against the wall, but his eyes weren’t focused on the TV screens. He was staring intently at someone else in the room, and as Lena zoomed back out, I followed the direction of his gaze.

  “Christine. I should’ve known,” Caiden spat in disgust.

  “Well, we’re not getting any answers from her. She’s fish food now.”

  “Nice thought.” Caiden looked at Z and smirked, then caught Winter’s expression. “Snowflake, I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

  She shook her head. “I know she was evil, but she was still my mother, you know?”

  “I know.” He tugged her onto his lap and buried his face in her hair, whispering something in her ear that caused a soft smile to appear on her face, her tension melting away.

  “When was this?” Cassius asked, clearly eager to change the subject.

  “This was the party where I first met Winter. Remember?” Instead of looking at him, or me, her eyes met Zayde’s.

  A spike of pure jealousy ripped through me at that moment, taking me aback. I remembered that night all too fucking well. Lena had shown up at the party, looking all hot and moody—her default expression until lately. It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed how good she looked, but I was good at ignoring the part of me that was attracted to her, since she was Cassius’ little sister, and she didn’t seem to be interested in me anyway.

  I’d lost track of her and had ended up playing darts with Z when Lena had appeared in the room, her hair all messed up and her makeup smeared around her face. Seeing her there had made something inside me twist uncomfortably. When she said she needed a lift home, I’d found myself offering as soon as she’d said she couldn’t get an Uber, and then Zayde had jumped in and offered his services. We’d argued a bit, and then Lena had stepped in and told me that she was choosing Z. The irrational anger and hurt I’d felt at the time rose up in me now as I watched her hold his gaze, both of their expressions unreadable.

  Fuck this. I needed to get out of here.

  “Getting a drink,” I muttered, climbing to my feet and stalking out of the room before anyone else could comment. Once in the kitchen, I bypassed the fridge, heading outside instead. I stepped off the deck and onto the cool grass, walking across the back garden until the house was distant behind me. We’d recently had a small football pitch installed—nothing much, just a rectangle of Astroturf with a goal at either end and white lines painted on the ground. Tall lights at the sides illuminated the pitch so we could play outside during the winter when it got dark early.

  There was a football lying against one of the goal nets, and I grabbed it, then began kicking it around. I stopped after a couple of minutes, because football for one didn’t work. Sinking down onto the Astroturf, I rested my back against the goal, rolling the ball idly up and down my legs.

  “Want to play some one-on-one?”

  I looked up to see Cassius standing over me.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  We played in silence for a while, and then Cassius spoke again. “Is everything alright?”

  Guess I hadn’t done a good job of hiding things. “Yeah…no. I dunno, mate. Everything’s still all fucked in my head, y’know?” I sighed. “I’ll be okay.”

  He nodded. “I know. It’s a lot to deal with. I’m worried about Lena, too. After everything she’s been through, I don’t want her hurt anymore.” Swiping the ball from the ground, he began twirling it on his finger, his gaze troubled. “I don’t want her getting into trouble, either. You know how reckless she can be. We need to keep an eye on her.”

  “Yeah.”

  There was silence for a moment while he studied me with an odd expression on his face. “There’s nothing going on between you and her, is there?”

  I licked my lips. “Uh…”

  “She doesn’t need any more complications in her life right now.”

  For the first time, I looked my best friend dead in the eye and lied to his face.

  “There’s nothing going on between us.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Something had happened with Weston. He’d withdrawn from me, and I didn’t know why. He’d said he wanted to take things slowly, but ever since we’d all gathered to discuss Martin Smith, it felt like he was avoiding me. He’d make excuses anytime we were in a situation we’d potentially be alone together, and when we were around everyone else, he treated me…not with indifference, exactly, but as he treated Kinslee—friendly, but keeping himself at a distance.

  It was driving me insane.

  All this had led to me making a snap decision one afternoon. I worked better alone, and that was how it was going to be if Weston wanted to keep his distance from me. It took me a couple of days to put my plan into place, and then I was ready.

  First things first, I headed to my friend Raine’s house. In her bedroom, I placed my phone and keys on her bedside table, next to a framed photo of her and her boyfriend, Carter, then reclined back on her bed. She grinned at me, her eyes sparkling as she held up a pair of tight black leggings.

  “Ta da!” Stepping closer, she passed them to me. “So you see here, you’ve got these two pockets, plus the inbuilt belt. I don’t know why you wanted me to line it with this wire mesh stuff, but here it is. It’s removable.”

  I smiled at her enthusiasm. Raine designed clothes on and off, and when I’d come to her with my idea, she’d thrown herself into it head first.

  “These look perfect.” I stroked my fingers across the soft leather.

  A shy smile spread across her face. “Thanks.”

  “Honestly, Raine, this is so good.” I examined the tightly knit wire mesh that lined the interior of the inbuilt belt. It would block any electromagnetic signals, allowing my phone to rema
in undetected, if I needed it to. And more importantly, it would hide the tiny device I was planning on bringing with me that may just be the answer to our problems. If we were lucky.

  “It was fun to make something different for a change. You don’t even want to know how many dresses I’ve designed lately.” She pulled a face, but I knew that she loved everything she designed.

  “I’ll be coming back to you for more if this works out,” I told her with a grin.

  We chatted for a while longer, before she had to leave to meet her boyfriend.

  Then it was time for me to get to work.

  Back at home, I changed into my new leggings, adding the few supplies that I needed to bring with me. Less was more when it came to this kind of thing. After strapping on my boots, I headed down to the garage and put the back seats down in my car, then loaded my bike.

  I had the address memorised, so I didn’t need to use the satnav to work out where I was going. When I drew close to the destination, I parked my car on the road on the darkest part of the street, outside a large, gothic-looking house. Retrieving my bike from the boot, I took a moment to think through the directions I’d memorised, then set off.

  The house I was aiming for was one of a row of four-storey Georgian terraces, each one split into separate apartments. My destination was the very top floor, but I hit the buzzer for the second floor and hoped for the best.

  “Yeah?” A slow, lazy drawl came from the speaker.

  I hit the button to reply. “Pizza delivery for 3b.”

  A huff came out of the speaker. “Wrong buzzer, dude.” But I heard the welcome sound of the door unlocking, and I hurried inside, quietly closing the door behind me. As I’d hoped, there was a cleaning supply cupboard under the stairs, and after easily picking the lock, I settled inside to wait.

  By the time I exited the supply cupboard, stretching, the entire building was dark and silent, other than the emergency lighting that dimly illuminated the hallway. Avoiding the security cameras, which basically only focused on the external doors, I crept up the stairs, all the way to the top.

  Pausing outside the door, I took a moment to regain my breath while I studied the lock. I was not a locksmith by any stretch of the imagination—the basic padlock on the supply cupboard was pretty much the extent of my skills, but lucky for me, Martin Smith had recently replaced his standard lock with a keyless pin pad that could be operated remotely. Something that I’d found out accidentally when I’d been going through the email records Weston had acquired, and had sparked the beginnings of a plan in my head.

  Turning on my tiny key ring torch, I carefully swept it over the shiny keypad. Thanks to the surface, I could easily see the fingerprints over six of the numbers. I memorised them, then stepped back for a moment while I thought about the combination. These keypads gave three chances before you were automatically locked out of the system, and if I was unlucky, an alarm would also alert Martin Smith. So I had to act cautiously.

  Fortunately, I liked a puzzle. Turning over the numbers in my head, I tried to line them up with what I knew about him. Most people when choosing a pin code would pick something that they’d easily remember—something meaningful, rather than a random string of numbers.

  I immediately ruled out his date of birth since the numbers didn’t fit, although it would have been too obvious of an option anyway. The only numbers that fitted, based on the information I had…it couldn’t be, surely. Then again, it was clear that he hadn’t had any contact with his ex-wife, so I was guessing their split hadn’t been amicable.

  Holding my breath, I typed in the date of his divorce and hit Enter.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The light at the top of the keypad turned green, and I breathed a sigh of relief, slowly and carefully turning the door handle after pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Before I entered the apartment, I used the little antiseptic wipe I’d brought with me to go over the keypad quickly, although I doubted that my fingerprints would even be noticeable with the smeary prints that were already on there.

  After that, I entered the hallway, closing the door softly behind me. Inside, everything was dark, which I was grateful for. Tiptoeing along the carpeted floor, I made my way towards the furthest room on the left. An easy search on a popular property website had brought up the floor plan of this place, so I knew the layout already.

  My destination?

  Martin Smith’s bedroom.

  Or more specifically, his phone.

  There was a sudden yowl, and a ball of fur and claws launched itself at me.

  Thinking fast, I spun away from the cat and opened the door to my right. The kitchen.

  The cat flew through the door, and I spun again, yanking it shut, pausing at the last second so that it wouldn’t slam. Easing it closed, I ignored the outraged hiss. Nothing was going to detract me from my purpose.

  Inching along what felt like the world’s longest hallway, I finally made it to the bedroom. The door was ajar, and I peered through it before even thinking about opening it any wider. Of course, the bedroom had to be pitch-black. I could barely make out anything.

  Time to use my trusty torch. Pressing the little button to turn it on, I directed the beam into the palm of my hand, then carefully pointed the edge of the beam at the floor.

  My heart was racing. I’d done stuff that other people would probably consider dangerous or ill-advised, but this…I’d never broken into someone’s house before. Although, I guess there hadn’t been any actual breaking in, since I’d used his passcode.

  It was doubtful the police would see it that way, though.

  As usual, I blocked those thoughts from my mind, allowing myself to become a shadow. My heart rate slowed, and my breathing became more even. Sweeping the torch across the floor, I took in the room at a glance. The lump in the bed that was a sleeping Martin Smith, the dresser against the far wall, a glint of metal…

  There.

  On the bedside table, next to a glasses case, was his phone.

  Crouching down, I moved with agonising slowness, testing the floor in front of me with my toes before I dared to put my weight on it, hoping that the floorboards wouldn’t creak and give away my presence. When I finally reached the bedside table, I waited for a moment, listening to his breathing and reassuring myself he was still asleep before I turned my attention to his phone.

  It seemed to take forever as I inched it off the table and into my hands. My palms were sweaty, and the phone slipped before I managed to steady it against myself. Resting it on my knee, I eased open the zip pocket of my trousers and pulled out a tiny metal pin. I used the pin to pop open the slot on his phone that housed the SIM card and currently empty SD card slot. Taking out the little device I’d brought with me, I inserted it into the slot, then laid the phone back on the table. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice it, or at least, not until it was too late.

  His breath stuttered, and I reacted immediately, dropping flat to the floor.

  Then he sat up in bed.

  Fuck.

  I did the only thing I could. I rolled under his bed.

  The bed creaked, and then I heard a snapping sound which could have only been his glasses case opening. Holding my breath, I waited, feeling the mattress dip dangerously low so that it was almost touching my face.

  Then his weight was gone, and I could breathe again. That was, until he flicked the bedside lamp on. I shuffled further into the shadows under the bed, trying not to panic by reminding myself that the odds of him actually looking under his bed were incredibly low. I mean, who looks under their bed every time they get up?

  There was no way I was going to risk moving—the only way in and out of the apartment was through the front door, and I wasn’t about to pull a Winter and risk broken legs or worse by climbing out of the window. Especially since we were right on the top floor. The only thing I could do was wait.

  Finally, finally, he was in bed and asleep again, or at least, I hoped so. Rolling out from under the bed, I tiptoed towards
the door.

  Two more steps.

  I made it to the hallway, and there was the front door. Almost out. Passing the kitchen, I noticed that the door that I’d closed was now ajar. I sensed it almost before I saw it, that ball of hissing, spitting fur coming for me.

  There was a crash as I staggered into the small console table that stood against the wall.

  Not bothering to take my time, I ran for it. I heard a shout from the hallway, but as I threw the front door closed behind me—as softly as I could in my hurry—I didn’t see anyone, so I could only hope that Smith hadn’t reached the door of his bedroom.

  There was nowhere to hide on this floor, so I raced down the stairs as fast as I could, all while trying to avoid the cameras. By the time I’d reached the second floor, I heard the faint sound of a door opening above me, and I pushed myself even harder.

  Instead of going out of the front door, where anyone looking out of their windows would see me, I aimed for the supply cupboard again. I hid there for what felt like hours, sitting on an upturned bucket, until I judged it was safe to leave.

  Back in my bedroom at home, I turned on the computer program that would record Martin Smith’s calls in real time. All I could do now was wait. There was a flashing icon on my screen, which meant that someone from Kryptos had left me a message.

  My heart skipped a beat seeing the name Nitro appear.

  Weston.

  Nitro: Cass wants you to stay home instead of intercepting the dogs exchange.

  Me: No.

  He was clearly online, because he replied straight away.

  Nitro: He was adamant

  Me: He needs to trust me. I know what I’m doing.

  Nitro: I know, but you can be impulsive sometimes. He worries about you.

  Me: Do YOU worry about me?

  Nitro: What’s that supposed to mean?

  Me: You’ve been distancing yourself

  There was no reply, but a few minutes later, my phone rang, and his name flashed up on the screen.