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

“This is not good,” Martin muttered. “I have buyers lined up. We have three champions coming over on that shipment.”

“I know. We need to reschedule the trade for tomorrow.”

There was silence for a moment. “That shouldn’t be an issue. It’s only a day sooner than planned. We’ll have to discount the buyers for the inconvenience, of course, but it’s a small price to pay.”

“I agree.” Her voice lowered. “Would you prefer to discuss this in person? My parents are out, and I have this whole big house all to myself.”

A groan escaped him, making me shudder with revulsion. Gross. “Give me an hour, sweetheart.”

The call ended abruptly then. There was something familiar about the female voice, something I couldn’t quite place. I pulled over the side of the road when a thought hit me. Maybe James would recognise it. He’d investigated the dog fighting with me in the past, after all.

He didn’t answer his phone, so I used my phone software to record the first part of the message and forwarded it to him, asking if he recognised the voice. That done, I switched my engine back on to continue to Weston’s house.

At the next set of traffic lights, I checked my phone while I was waiting for them to turn green. There was a text from James with one word.

Everything suddenly became clear to me.

Thom wasn’t a man.

She was a woman.

And I knew where she lived.

The lights had long turned green by the time I’d programmed the address into my satnav. I knew that everyone called me reckless and impulsive, but there was no way I was passing up this chance to catch her with Martin Smith. I wasn’t planning to do anything, anyway. Just to get visual confirmation of them together, before I headed over to Weston’s house. I had a feeling that this was the kind of thing everyone would need visual proof of. I could hardly wrap my head around it as it was.

Stashing my car next to the gated entrance to a field and hoping no one would see it, I slipped through the shadows until I reached the large Georgian manor house. It was similar to the one Arlo Cavendish lived in, although on a smaller scale. Less security, too, from what I could see in my brief scan of the area.

All I needed was to get a photo, and then I could leave.

The property was bordered by a stone wall that was low enough to scale. Just. Sneaking through the field that was situated to the left, I took a running jump, my fingers closing over the top of the wall.

Okay, it was higher than I thought. My fingers scrabbled for purchase, and I felt myself slipping. Using all my strength, I managed to pull myself to the top, collapsing against the rough stone with my legs either side of the wall.

Once I had my breath back, I looked over at the house. No sign of movement. She’d said she was alone, so I took her at her word. Sprinting across the manicured lawn, I found myself a hiding place in the shadows and settled back to wait.

While I was waiting, I sent Weston a text.

Me: I’ll be a bit late. Had to make an unscheduled stop

West: What? Where? You’d better not be doing anything dangerous

Me: It’s not. Promise. Guess where I am?

West: Knowing you? Somewhere shady

Me: I’m insulted

West: No you’re not

Laughing to myself, I forwarded him the recording of the phone call to Martin Smith, then sent another text.

Me: Listen to the recording I sent you and see if you can work it out

West: Now isn’t the time to play games

Me: Listen to it

His reply came through a few minutes later.

West: A woman? How did we miss this?

Me: Do you know who she is?

West: No

A set of headlights swung into the driveway, and I crouched lower, shielding my phone screen. Before I turned my screen off and my camera on, I sent one last message.

Me: Play it to the others. Bet they can work it out

The car came to a stop, and the front door opened. The woman stood there to greet Martin, her red hair bathed in the warm light that spilled out from inside the house, turning it a burnished gold.

I angled my camera towards Martin, watching as he exited the car. His severe features softened as he looked at her standing there waiting for him.

“Marty,” she said, her lips curving into a smile.

He closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms. Their lips met.

When they drew apart, he looked down at her, grasping her chin in his hand.

One word left his lips.

“Portia.”

FORTY-ONE

There was deathly silence in the lounge when I finished playing the recording. Caiden and Zayde exchanged disbelieving glances, and Cassius frowned, rubbing his brow like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Play it again?” Winter said at last, her tone hesitant.

When it had finished playing for the second time, Cade finally spoke up. “That sounds like Portia. A whole fucking lot.”

“It can’t be, can it? She’s like, nineteen. And Martin Smith is, what? In his fifties?” Winter glanced up at Caiden for confirmation, and he nodded, pulling a face.

“If it is her, I see why they wanted to keep it quiet.”

Winter stood, pacing up and down, deep in thought. “Why haven’t there been any signs? There must be something we missed. Can we play that video Lena took at the party again? You know, the one where she recorded the room of people watching the dog fight.”

“Yeah. I’ll get my laptop.” When I returned to the lounge, I connected my laptop to the TV and played back the video frame by frame, scouring it to see if there was anything we’d missed.

“There.” Winter suddenly pointed at the screen. “Could that be her?”

Sliding my glasses on, I zoomed in on the still of the video. “It’s possible. Hard to tell, really.” The image showed Martin Smith, staring over at Christine.