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

by Becca Steele

  “Idiot,” I teased. “Come back here under the shelter.”

  He shook his head, droplets flying everywhere. “Nah, I like this. It’s refreshing.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” I began the hunt for my clothes, when his low taunt reached my ears.

  “Too scared to join me?”

  “What’s it worth?”

  Raising his arms, he pointed to himself. “The chance to get up close with your boyfriend’s sexy body?”

  “One could never accuse you of modesty,” I told him, but I abandoned my hunt for my clothes. Steeling myself against the pouring rain, I threw myself at him. His lips slid against mine as his arms came around me.

  “Mmm. This is refreshing.”

  “I told you.” He flashed me a smug smile that faded as his hand grasped the back of my neck, tilting my head while his other brushed my hair out of the way. “Tastes refreshing, too.” One slow lick down my throat as he chased the raindrops.

  “West.” I could feel his cock thickening against me. “I want to carry this on.” Ugh, why did I have to be the sensible one? This wasn’t me. “We need to go inside. Think of Cass.”

  He jerked back from me. “Never mention him again when we’re naked. Never.”

  “It’s a deal. But we should go inside.”

  “I know.” He placed a kiss to my forehead. “You go first, and I’ll see you back in the party once we’re both cleaned up.”

  “Okay.” After one last kiss, I stepped back, out of the rain.

  When I returned to the party, Weston was already there. It had taken me a while to sort my hair out, since the rain had made it all frizzy and I really didn’t want to have to explain why it was in that state. It was now piled on top of my head. I had to change my dress, too, since I also didn’t want to have to explain the mark on my back.

  The dress had worked its magic anyway. I still couldn’t quite believe that Weston had officially claimed me as his girlfriend. Happiness bubbled up inside me, leaving me with a permanent smile on my face.

  I raided my mum’s huge walk-in wardrobe—she had hundreds of dresses, and although she was shorter than me, I knew I’d find something suitable. So here I was, in yet another black dress, only this one covered my back and was even shorter than my original one.

  Weston was standing by the windows, talking to Caiden, with a glass in hand. He beckoned me over, so I made my way to them, detouring to grab my own drink on the way. When I reached him, he threaded his fingers through mine, pulling me closer.

  Caiden stared at us with raised eyebrows. “What’s all this about?”

  West shrugged. “What? Me holding my girlfriend’s hand?”

  “Girlfriend, huh?” He grinned, pleased. “My little brother got himself a girlfriend.”

  “Less of the little. I’m the same height as you, thanks.”

  Cade ruffled his hair. “Yep. But I’m still the older, responsible one.”

  “The boring one, you mean.”

  “There’s nothing boring about me. Isn’t that right, Snowflake?” He smirked at Winter, who had wandered over to join us. Her eyes flicked down to my hand, joined with Weston’s, and she squeezed my arm lightly with a smile on her face, before turning her attention to Caiden.

  “You’re far from boring.” She leaned in to kiss him. “Except when you watch Top Gear. That can get kind of boring.”

  He huffed. “We’ll have to agree to disagree. Anyway, I’m happy for you both. How’s Cass taken the news? Or haven’t you told him yet?” Caiden addressed the question to me, but it was Weston who answered.

  “I told him on the way over. He took it well. I think.” He looked like he was about to say something else, when his phone sounded in his pocket. “That better fucking be Xenon,” he muttered, his attention suddenly diverted to the issue that was still hanging over our heads: the dog fighting and Martin Smith.

  I took his drink so he could check his phone, all of us falling silent as he read the message. “It’s not Xenon—it’s my program sending me an alert. I’ve got it automatically flagging up Martin Smith’s data. Listen to this email.”

  In a low voice, he read from the screen.

  “Thom. Funds transferred from AH. M.”

  “Fuck.” Caiden scrubbed his hand over his face. “We’d better mention this to Dad.”

  “I agree.” Weston shoved his phone back in his pocket. “If he’s using Alstone Holdings, then he needs to be stopped.”

  The atmosphere turned heavy. We needed to get this guy.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention?”

  We were pulled from our thoughts by the sound of my dad tapping a glass, standing in the centre of the room.

  “As you all know, we’re here to celebrate my son’s birthday. Cassius? Where are you?”

  Cassius was standing off to the side, close to the buffet table, chatting to Kinslee. At his dad’s words, his head shot up, and a beaming smile crossed his face. He joined our dad in the centre of the room, and someone dimmed the lights. Although it was daytime, the sky was dark thanks to the heavy rain outside.

  “On three. Let’s sing Happy Birthday to Cassius!”

  He counted to three, and everyone began to sing as my mum entered the room with a huge birthday cake balanced in her hands, with two candles on the top. I covered my mouth to hide my smile, because my mum had put me in charge of ordering the cake.

  Cassius didn’t miss a beat, blowing out the candles and grinning hugely as everyone cheered, but then his eye caught mine, and I knew that he was aware of who had chosen his cake.

  I wandered over to him when everyone had gone back to mingling with each other. Weston came, too, his fingers threaded through mine, the feeling so natural it was like we’d been together for years.

  “This is your doing, huh?” Cassius raised a brow, looking between me and the cake.

  “Yep. Quite a good likeness, isn’t it?”

  Weston snorted with amusement. “It looks like…if a cartoon version of Cass was run over by Z’s bike and half his face is melting off.”

  “Then the bakery did their job,” I said in satisfaction. I’d asked them to give me a badly decorated Nailed It! version of my brother’s likeness—and they’d done it perfectly.

  “Tastes fucking amazing,” Cassius told me through a mouthful of cake. “Great job, sis.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  My cousin called to him, and he headed away, leaving me with Weston next to the cake. He stared down at it, still grinning, then pulled his phone from his pocket. “Let’s commemorate our relationship status with a selfie of you with this cake.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  I checked my phone with a grin. The selfie I’d taken with Lena yesterday hadn’t gone unnoticed. It seemed like most people were fans of me and Lena being together. In the photo I was trying (and failing) to feed her a piece of Cassius’ birthday cake, and she was laughing as I took the photo, dropping bits of cake all over the floor. Now everyone knew she was mine.

  We’d celebrated all night, wrapped up in each other, until I’d eventually left her bed in the early hours of the morning. She had school, and I had lectures in the morning, plus an essay that I wasn’t even close to finishing.

  Fuck, I wanted to wake up with her. She only had a couple of months left at school, and then we’d have the whole summer. I couldn’t fucking wait. And after the summer, she’d be starting at Alstone College.

  I made it through my morning lectures on autopilot, my mind turning from my girlfriend to Martin Smith. Caiden and I had arranged a meeting with our dad later in the day, and maybe we’d get lucky. Maybe.

  Heading into the packed cafeteria at lunchtime, I spotted my boys with Winter and Kinslee at our favourite table in front of the windows. After grabbing a sandwich and a bottle of water, I made my way over to them, taking the seat opposite my brother, who had Winter perched on his lap.

  “Ready for later?” I spoke around a mouthful of bread, and Winter pulled a face at
me.

  “What is it with you and Cassius and your gross eating habits?”

  I shrugged. Swallowing, I uncapped my bottle of water and took a swig, before glancing over at my brother. “Did you hear from Dad?”

  “Yeah. All sorted,” he assured me.

  Nodding, I grinned at him. I had confidence in us, in what we’d planned to do. Now my dad was involved, it was actually a weight off my mind. Thanks to his help, we were going to be able to access information that we wouldn’t have had a chance to get hold of before.

  “Looking good, Z.”

  My gaze swung away from my brother to see Portia standing at our table, then flicked to Winter in time to see her baring her teeth. Blanking Portia, she pointedly turned away, and Cade wrapped his arms more tightly around her, kissing her neck.

  Zayde, meanwhile, acted like he hadn’t even heard her. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but there was no love lost between them. Between her and any of us, for that matter.

  Before Portia could respond, her attention went to someone behind me, and her eyes narrowed, a vindictive gleam coming into them. “You’re not welcome here,” she called.

  The whole cafeteria seemed to fall silent, and I sat back to watch this shitshow play out. Spinning in my chair, I took in the person she was addressing.

  Her ex-best friend, Jessa, who was standing, frozen to the spot, tray in hand and her eyes wide.

  “Fuck this,” Winter suddenly mumbled, swinging herself off Caiden’s lap and standing. Kinslee wasn’t far behind her. I watched, open-mouthed as she stormed up to Portia. “You’re. Not. Welcome. Here.” Every word was punctuated by a jab into Portia’s chest, and I would’ve laughed if I hadn’t known how overdue this was.

  “Get the fuck out of here.” Kinslee came to stand next to Winter, her arms crossed across her chest.

  Portia stared between them, blinking like she couldn’t quite believe what was happening, before she decided to cut her losses and turned on her heel, making a point of sauntering out, flicking her red hair and swaying her hips.

  Winter threw herself back into Cade’s lap, inhaling a shaky breath. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

  He grinned, placing a kiss on top of her head. “I fucking love you, Snowflake.”

  “Where did Jessa go?” Kinslee slid back into her own seat, reaching out for her bottle of Sprite and taking a sip.

  “Dunno, but I wonder what happened between them. I heard my mum saying that the De Witts had fallen out with the Thompsons, so it might’ve been something to do with their parents,” Cassius said.

  “Probably pissed off that Lars De Witt went into business with Alstone Holdings.” Cade shrugged. “Whatever, I don’t wanna talk about Portia anymore.”

  “Me neither. I need to finish up my essay before we meet Dad. Meet you out the front?” Standing, I swung my bag onto my shoulder.

  “See ya later.”

  Two hours later, my essay was done and submitted via the student portal, and I was ready to go. As I left Alstone College to meet up with Caiden, my phone rang, Lena’s name flashing up on the screen.

  “Hi.” I heard the smile in her voice. “I just thought I’d wish you luck.”

  “Thanks. I’m hoping we don’t need it, but I’ll keep you updated.” Sliding behind the wheel of my car, I checked my rear-view mirror before starting up the engine. “Come over later?”

  Her voice went all soft. “Yeah.”

  “Good. Talk to you later.” We said goodbye, and then I turned my car in the direction of my dad’s office.

  This time, security was expecting us, and after being issued with passes, we were ushered straight up to the floor my dad’s office was on. His secretary greeted us—neither Caiden nor I ever learned their name, because they didn’t always last long, but we both gave her a polite hello before entering his office.

  When we entered, he was placing his desk phone back down, a look of despair on his face. “Your cousin.” He sighed.

  “I’m assuming you mean Roman. What’s he done now?” Caiden threw himself into a chair, looking amused. Our younger cousin, Roman Cavendish, had a bit of a reputation. He attended Hatherley Hall, an exclusive boarding school up in the Cotswolds, while my aunt and uncle worked overseas.

  “You don’t want to know.” My dad groaned, rubbing his brow. “Something to do with arson, from what I can gather. Why my sister insists on involving me, I don’t know. I suppose I shall have to call the school board, yet again.”

  “Good luck with that.” Caiden laughed, conveniently forgetting that he used to give my dad just as much grief when he attended Alstone High.

  “We have approximately six minutes.” My dad steered the conversation away from the touchy subject of my cousin and on to the reason for Caiden’s and my presence. “I’ve called Martin in for an appraisal. If I’d called it a meeting, we would have run the risk of him bringing his laptop. You should have around thirty minutes to get the data, if all goes to plan.”

  “Never expect a plan to go as planned,” Caiden cut in. “We’ll be as quick as we can.”

  With Martin Smith occupied, we headed down the corridor to his office. We had to take care not to be seen, but thankfully this corridor only housed a small number of executive offices. We were lucky that Martin Smith didn’t have his own secretary—not in here, at least. He shared his with two other members of staff, and their secretary’s desk was out in the main room where a number of the lower-level employees worked.

  The door was locked, but we had the pin code thanks to my dad, so that was soon taken care of. Inside, my eyes swept the sparsely furnished room, zeroing in on the sleek laptop that rested on his desk.

  As we’d agreed earlier, Caiden kept watch while I got to work.

  The laptop was locked, but I’d brought the solution with me. A small USB key that slotted into one of the ports on the side, it would bypass the security and, if all went well, copy the details of his hard drive across to the key. I’d written the program myself and tested it, so I was crossing my fingers that all would go well. I’d expected the laptop to have additional layers of security if it had sensitive information, so I just had to hope I’d done enough to get it to work.

  I fitted it into the port and hoped for the best.

  Thank fuck this wasn’t like one of those movies, where a random alarm would start blaring and a big message would appear on the screen saying ACCESS DENIED. Just the opposite—the computer unlocked straight away, and the program got to work.

  1 hour 23 seconds remaining…

  What the fuck? I let out a groan.

  “What’s wrong?” Caiden hissed.

  “It’s saying—”

  15 minutes 45 seconds remaining…

  “Never mind, it just thought it would scare the fuck out of me for a second.”

  Caiden blinked, shrugging, then returned his attention to the doorway.

  After the longest fifteen minutes of my life, the program had completed its task, and I quickly removed the USB key and pocketed it. Careful not to touch the laptop keys with my fingers, I used the sleeve of my hoodie to lock the screen again.

  “Do you think we have time to search his desk?” I wondered.

  “No. Dad’s done that already. I’m sure he said that was one of the first things he did. Let’s get out of here.” Caiden motioned me towards the door, so I straightened up, and with one final glance around the room to make sure everything was in place, I joined him back in the hallway, locking the door behind us.

  There were security cameras, but I’d already taken care of those remotely. Not that I expected Martin Smith to be browsing random footage from the middle of a Monday afternoon, but you could never be too careful.

  Mission accomplished, we got out of there.

  FORTY

  Thursday evening, and it appeared that West had been lucky and been able to get away with copying the data undetected. Martin Smith’s laptop had thrown up some interesting information. So far, noth
ing incriminating, yet. But what we had found was a series of deleted messages and recovered internet browser history that had given us enough clues that I was certain we could figure out the missing puzzle pieces.

  While Weston took care of getting into import and export records, my trail of breadcrumbs led me deep into the dark web to a social network buried under other layers, undetectable but disguised in plain sight. In short, you wouldn’t be able to find it unless you knew what you were looking for, but once you knew it was there, it was kind of obvious.

  I’d taken care to use every shielding technique I knew, tracking and backtracking, constantly erasing my digital footprint. When I hit the network I was looking for, I registered using fake details (I highly doubted there were many people using their real details), and I was in.

  Imagine a Facebook on steroids, with zero censors, and this was pretty much it. I followed the trail to a group, simply called Dogfighting UK, and clicked to join, and then I was in.

  Fucking jackpot of all jackpots. I’d hit the mother lode. Scrolling through the group, I saw there were countless photos, videos, stats about different dogs, dates and details of events that were taking place, and discussions on breeders, transports…in short, a whole lot of incriminating evidence.

  I didn’t even want to take screenshots, in case I was somehow detected, so instead, I documented the evidence through use of my phone camera and notes, concentrating on anything I could find relating to the more local fights. The group was fairly large, but that was to be expected from a national group. Only a small number actually seemed to be southern England–based, but I took down the few details that I could find.

  Before I signed out, I found a post that seemed to be a noticeboard, and I saw that someone who went by Thom had arranged to purchase three pit bull terriers from a guy based in Romania. I noted down the date, which matched with the message we’d found on Martin’s phone, weeks earlier, and got out of there.