The Fight In Us: A Brother's Best Friend College Romance (The Four Book 4) by Becca Steele (little readers .txt) 📕

“By reducing the packaging, we can not only save money, but transport roughly 30 percent more goods, meaning more profit,” my dad was saying as I entered his room without knocking. Caiden’s head was bent over my dad’s computer, both of them intent on the screen, as my dad tapped on a chart with a silver pen.

“Makes sense. Did you look at the stuff I emailed you?”

My dad smiled proudly. “The eco transport company? I did, and I have a meeting set up with the director next month.”

Listening to their conversation, a combination of bitterness and sadness filled me. My dad was so proud of Caiden. I knew he saw him as a leader. And I didn’t begrudge him that, at all—my brother was a born leader. Me, though? I knew my dad still saw me as the happy-go-lucky kid who needed protecting. Maybe it was the curse of being the younger sibling, but I’d never felt more redundant than I did right then. I wanted my dad to be proud of me. Maybe, if I could crack this thing with Martin Smith, I could prove myself to him.

My dad looked up, noticing me, and a wide, genuine smile spread across his face. “Both my sons? This is a pleasant surprise.”

I returned his smile, the bitterness dissipating as I took in his face. We fell into an easy conversation about university, and by the time the workday had ended, I was much more positive. My dad was working late, no surprise there, so Caiden and I said our goodbyes and stepped outside. Perfect fucking timing, since Martin Smith was exiting the building right then.

“That’s him,” I murmured to my brother, and he gave a sharp nod before we trailed him at a distance, all the way into the car park where I pulled out my phone and set the camera to snap a few discreet photos as we walked past. He got into a silver Mercedes saloon car, slinging his briefcase into the seat next to him before starting up the engine.

“Do you have the number plate?”

“Yep.”

“Let’s bring this guy down.”

EIGHTEEN

“These tips are ridiculous. We’re not getting anywhere.” I blew out a frustrated breath as James kicked at the ground next to me.

“I know,” he muttered, his gaze constantly shifting around us as we stood in the grimy alley behind a warehouse that lay to the east of Alstone. I knew he was uncomfortable, and to be honest, I’d rather he wasn’t involved, but he’d ended up being tangled up in all this when he’d stumbled on his uncle, Roland Hyde, placing bets on one of the fights. The same uncle that was currently waiting on his trial for fraud and embezzlement, among other things.

The fights in question? Dog fights. Underneath Alstone’s pristine surface was a seedy underbelly, and illegal dog fighting was something that I’d never, ever be okay with. I’d made it my mission to uncover the organisers of this and bring them down, and I wouldn’t allow myself to fail. James had been with me on a few of my recon missions—there as my backup-slash-getaway driver, although I preferred to work alone. It was easier to remain undetected when there was only one of you.

I think James still felt a sense of responsibility towards me in a way, though. We hadn’t really interacted much since he’d come to my rescue, not until I’d started investigating the dog fighting. I’d always be grateful to him, but I think we both wanted to put that situation behind us. But after he’d found out that his uncle was interested in the fights, we had a common cause, and over the past year we’d become…not friends, exactly, but friendly, I guess you could say.

I appreciated his backup, but last Halloween, we’d received a tip-off that a dog fight was taking place on an industrial ground over in Highnam, and let’s just say, I had first-hand experience of being inside a huge rubbish bin, when James had accidentally made our presence known by managing to fall over a bike. I mean, who the fuck trips over a bike? It wasn’t even lying down—it had been standing up, chained to a lamppost. Anyway, needless to say, we’d missed that opportunity and hadn’t managed to come close again since.

“That’s all of it.”

We both stiffened at the voice coming from the end of the alley, and I ducked down, hopefully undetected with the large recycling bins that blocked us from view. I angled my phone around the edge of the bin, my camera already recording, just in case we managed to pick up anything useful. Watching the view through my phone screen, I made out two figures silhouetted against the streetlamp. One handed something to the other. Cash, possibly? It was hard to tell from a distance.

“I trust you. You know what’ll happen, though, if you’ve short-changed me.”

“It’s all there,” the first voice insisted. “Martin—uh, Mr. Smith, counted it personally.”

“Good. In that case, you can expect the delivery on Thursday. I think you’ll be pleased. This batch is from Romania. Same family as the last. Highly trained, vicious little bastards.”

My heart sped up at the words. They had to be talking about the dogs. Had to be. So far, these people had been like ghosts—moving from location to location, leaving no traces behind. I knew some of the Alstone elite actually enjoyed the dog fights, much to my disgust. The fights were normally filmed, and bets were placed on the dogs—I’d seen it with my own eyes. No one seemed to be bothered about stopping it, so I had to take a stand.

The voices grew fainter, and a moment later, I heard the sound of an engine starting up.

Once the guys were gone and I was back in my car, having parted ways with James, I googled the name of the guy they’d mentioned. After narrowing down my search to the local area, I had it.

He