by Becca Steele
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 of urgency.”
“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 lik
e 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. Over to the right of the screen, past Christine, was what looked like the back of a head with red hair, partially obscured by a balding man. “If it is her, Martin could be looking at her, not at Christine. I don’t think we can say for definite, though.”
“There goes that plan, then.” Winter heaved a sigh. “But if this is her, she’s going to be there tomorrow. Wherever ‘there’ is.”
“We know where it is.” I remembered the info Lena had forwarded me from the dark web group. “Now we know that Martin, Portia, and Jaroslaw Milosz are all going to be there. They’re the three major players, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. They mentioned the buyers, too, so we need to be careful. We don’t know who these people are.”
“Thom!” Cassius suddenly shouted, making everyone turn to him. “Thom… Thompson. Portia Thompson.”
“Yeah, we got that, mate,” Cade told him.
“Well—”
Lena came strolling in, stopping whatever Cassius was going to say. Probably for the best. Her eyes arrowed straight to mine, and her lips curved into a smile. My stomach flipped. I was so gone for this girl. Come here, I mouthed.
She came to me straight away, dropping down into my lap and turning her head to speak into my ear. “You look so fucking sexy in those glasses. Just thought you should know.”
“Yeah?” I kissed the side of her face, sliding my hand up her leg.
“Please. Stop.”
We broke apart at Cassius’ plea. I threw him an apologetic look, and he rolled his eyes in return.
“Okay. I have this.” Lena was all business again, sitting up straight and tapping at her phone. “West? Just added a video to the server.”
When I hit Play and it came up on the TV screen, I leaned forwards, not quite able to believe what I was seeing. I knew that Portia was involved based on what we’d just been discussing, but it was one thing knowing it and another actually believing it. Couldn’t ignore the video evidence, though.
“So. Tomorrow,” I began.
“Tomorrow,” Lena echoed.
According to the intel we had, the exchange was set for 10:00 p.m. that night. We hadn’t had any other information that would tell us otherwise, so we had to hope for the best. Cade and I had agreed not to get our dad involved in this, but we’d update him afterwards, as long as everything went to plan.
We were going in with caution. We needed video and photographic evidence, and to catch the actual exchange taking place. Proper shit that could be documented, so there was no question about who was involved.
“Remember. No confrontations. This is just about getting the evidence,” I reminded everyone, catching my brother’s eye as we crowded into Cassius’ SUV to drive to the exchange point. Cade was sitting back and letting me take the lead on this, which honestly fucking shocked me. He gave me a reassuring nod, settling back in his seat and tugging Winter against him.
We were arriving an hour earlier than the arranged meeting time so we could scope out the place and find the best vantage points. Thanks to Google, we had an idea of the general layout, although we couldn’t be sure of anything until we were actually there. I was bringing my drone—it would give us instant, up-to-date coverage which would help us with the layout and also provide additional video footage from above.
Yet another industrial area. This one was a lot more run-down than the others, and there didn’t appear to be any security to speak of. No cameras, no security. Probably why they’d chosen the place. After driving around in circles for a while, Cassius pulled over next to a small, dilapidated warehouse with half a roof. All the windows had been smashed, and the walls were plastered with graffiti. After grabbing a pair of bolt cutters from the boot, he snapped the heavy-duty chain and padlock across the doors, then shoved them open, his muscles straining with the effort. The doors scraped along the ground but eventually slid open.
“Lucky I brought the bolt cutters,” he commented when he hopped back in the car, looking far too pleased with himself. He drove inside, bumping over the bits of junk that littered the floor. The space was mostly empty other than the litter, except for a pile of wooden pallets stacked in one corner.
Once we were out of the car and had all our equipment in hand, we filed out of the warehouse, and Cassius closed the doors, looping the chain around them so they looked as if they were still locked.
“That’ll have to do. Nowhere else to hide the car unless we want to park miles away.” He took one last glance at the doors, his mouth twisting, clearly unhappy about leaving his SUV behind.
“Hey, mate. It’ll be okay.” Stepping up to him, I clapped my hand on his shoulder.
“Yeah. Hope so.” He gave me a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Come on. Let’s do this.”
We headed to the open area that the trade was supposedly taking place. The info had mentioned “warehouse 4” which was easy to spot, a large black painted 4 above the doors. Stopping a safe distance away, behind a stack of rusting metal crates, I launched my drone into the air, holding the controls, complete with a small viewing screen, in front of me.
My eyes were drawn to movement in the corner of the screen, and my stomach dropped.
Fuck.
“We’ve got problems.” My voice remained calm, though inside I was fucking panicking. Everyone crowded around me, watching as figures appeared and the warehouse doors began to open.
“Everyone into position, now. We’ll have to do what we can. Get as much footage as you can, but don’t let yourself get fucking caught,” Caiden hissed, taking over while I concentrated on directing the drone over the area, looking out for anything we might have missed.
I remained where I was, holding the drone steady, and everyone else spread out, keeping to the cover of the crates and buildings around the immediate area. We were just filming, gathering evidence, so the risk should be minimal.
Not that we could rely on anything. We’d learned that the hard way when everything had happened with Christine.
Winter stayed close, balancing her phone on the crates and setting it to film through a gap, angled at the warehouse doors. She kept up a commentary for me in a low voice, while I circled the drone higher, bringing it over the warehouse roof. I had to switch to night vision here, although it wasn’t fully dark yet. When I lowered the drone to the jagged hole in the roof, it didn’t pick anything up thanks to the dim interior.
“Martin and Portia have turned up together.” A completely inappropriate laugh burst from her before she clamped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I just thought of her calling him Marty, and it made me laugh. I don’t know why.”
I flashed her a quick grin, before returning my attention to the screen. “What else? Looks like the lorry is inside the warehouse.”
“They’re going into the warehouse.” She huffed. “I can’t see anything else now.”
I took the drone as low as I dared, almost scraping it along the roof of the lorry that took up all the fucking space inside. “We need to get closer. I can’t see anything.”
“Let’s go. Where are the others?”
Carefully navigating the drone back out through the warehouse roof, I scanned the area. “There.” I angled my head at the screen. Caiden, Zayde, and Cassius were circling the area, gradually getting closer and closer to the warehouse, their aim clear.
“Where’s Lena?”
We both spoke at the same time.
Dread rose in me so fast that I couldn’t catch a breath.
My whole world stopped when I heard the scream.
FORTY-TWO
I’d slipped inside the warehouse as soon as Caiden had given the order to get into position. This was where we needed to be, and I knew the others would be right behind me.
Only, they weren’t right behind me. Seemed like they’d decided to err on the side of caution, scouting the outside area before getting to where the action was. Fuck that. We were wasting time.
Keeping low, I hugged the walls. It wasn’t a huge warehouse, and the lorry inside took up most of the available space. Crouched in the corner, I began filming, watching as Jaroslaw Milosz exited the cab and came around to the back. It appeared that he was alone for now.
Unlocking the back doors of the lorry, he lowered a ramp, then lit up a cigarette, leaving it dangling from his mouth as he clipped the doors into place so they remained open. Whines, growls, and barks reached my ears, and I zoomed in with the camera, debating whether to get closer.
My mind was made up when Jaroslaw stepped back down the ramp and headed outside. This was my chance. No one else was here inside the warehouse with me. Darting forwards, I raced up the ramp and into the black interior of the lorry.
I’d come prepared with a head torch so I could keep my hands free. If only I could’ve used a headcam—but it wasn’t worth the risk if I was caught. My phone was uploading the video to my secure server as I filmed, immediately deleting it from the phone itself. It would do that as long as my phone signal remained. There was no way I was planning on being caught, but if I was, I could plead innocence, and no one would be able to pin any evidence on me.