The Fight In Us: A Brother's Best Friend College Romance (The Four Book 4) by Becca Steele (read me a book txt) 📗

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.

“Hi.” His voice came down the line, all low and husky as if he was trying not to be overheard. My body’s reaction was instant, and I frowned. I’d spent years loving Weston in secret, used to not acting on my feelings, and this sudden desire was so unexpected.

“Hi.” I aimed for casual, but I was pretty sure that I didn’t convince either of us. “What’s up?”

He sighed into the phone. “You said I’ve been distancing myself.”

“Yeah, because you have.” Stepping away from the computer, I swiped my car keys from the desk and left my bedroom.

“I know,” he eventually admitted, after a moment’s silence. “It’s…complicated.”

“Talk to me. Please, West.” Padding up the stairs to the upper floor, I pulled my phone away from my ear to check the time. I hadn’t slept yet, having spent half the night inside Martin Smith’s apartment building, but I was running high on adrenaline right now.

“Fuck, Lena. It’s— It’s… A lot of it is to do with your brother. He’s my best friend.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” I snapped, then bit my lip. “Sorry, didn’t mean it like that.”

Another sigh. “Look, he asked if there was anything going on between us, and I lied to his face and said there wasn’t. I can’t lie to my best mate. It kills me.”

“We need to talk. In person.” I hit the button on my car key to unlock the door, then slid behind the wheel.

“I know we do,” he admitted, and that was all I needed to hear. Without a reply, I hung up the phone and directed my car towards his house.

Once I’d arrived, I parked off to the side of the house and used the key I’d had cut recently to let myself in. It was more than likely that everyone was asleep by now—everyone other than Weston, hopefully. I needed to talk to him, to work out what was going on in his head. He’d find it much more difficult to avoid me in person, I’d make sure of it.

My first stop was the computer room, but the door was locked and there was no sound from inside. I didn’t know the pin code, so instead, I turned around and headed up the stairs.

Straight for Weston’s bedroom.

TWENTY-FIVE

Stepping out of the shower, I roughly ran the towel over my hair before wrapping it around my waist. The bathroom was steamy, too hot, almost, and I was glad to escape into my slightly cooler bedroom. As I