The Fight In Us: A Brother's Best Friend College Romance (The Four Book 4) Becca Steele (speld decodable readers .TXT) 📖

“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, nothing 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.

This was what we needed to intercept. Intercepting a fight itself was too risky, with the number of spectators and people involved. But if we could intercept the actual transaction of dogs, especially if they were pit bulls, a banned breed in the UK, then we might be able to stop them.

As I sat and went back through the information I’d found in the group, I pulled up the transcripts of the conversations from Martin Smith’s hacked phone. It was easier to read through a transcript and look for connections, rather than replaying the voice recordings over and over again. What I couldn’t work out, though, was why this Thom guy was involved, and what, if any, his connection to Martin Smith actually was. There didn’t seem to be any communication between them. The only communication I’d been able to track with any regularity was that between Martin Smith and Jaroslaw Milosz, in relation to money. It all seemed to be cash, so there was no paper trail to be found.

There had to be something we were missing, and I hoped that West would be able to find it with the rest of the hacked data from Martin Smith’s laptop.

As if he knew I’d been thinking of him, my phone buzzed with a message.

West: Any breakthroughs?

I sent him a message to say I’d forward him the information I had and then continued going back over the transcripts. What were we missing?

I’d sorted the conversations into personal, work-related, and potential links to the dog fighting or the money disappearance. His personal calls were almost non-existent, unsurprisingly, since outside of work and the dog fighting, he seemed to keep to himself.

That all changed about an hour later.

Finally, I had the breakthrough I’d been hoping for.

Only, it wasn’t what I’d expected.

I replayed the call to Martin Smith’s phone again as I shot out of the garage, aiming for Weston’s house.

“Sweetheart? I told you not to call me on this number. No one can know about us.” He sounded annoyed.

“Except for emergencies, you said.” The voice at the other end was soft and female. “I couldn’t get hold of you.”

“That’s because I turned my phone off. I was in a meeting, for goodness’ sake!”

Oh, he was definitely getting angry.

“Marty, please.”

Marty? I snorted.

“What is it?” Now he sounded resigned.

“Jaroslaw’s in trouble.”

He hissed. “Are you alone? I don’t want anyone overhearing you.”

Her tone took on a haughty note. “Marty, I’m not stupid. Of course I’m alone.”

“Wait a moment.” There was the sound of shuffling and a door closing before he came back on the line again. “Alright. Continue.”

“Jaroslaw was almost caught by border control. He thinks they’re onto him, and worse, that they got his plates. He switched vehicles, and he’s laying low for the night in case there’s anyone on his tail, but he wants to get rid of the cargo as a matter