Page 40 of Secondhand Secrets

More awkward silence passed before he let out a sigh and turned back to Jamie. “The Syndicate were out to get me for leaving and hurting Sarah was part of their revenge. Except, she never had any real contact with the Syndicate.”

Jamie frowned at Chip. “You said they held her hostage in a freezer?”

Chip shrugged and took another sip of his beer. “Sure did, but Dean’s friend, Ramos, infiltrated the Syndicate and ended up being the guy holding her hostage.”

“Ramos? So, he kept Sarah safe.” Jamie’s lips bowed further, and she focused on Dean. “Does he live in Harlow too?”

“No, Ramos is back in L.A., at least for now anyway. He does still sometimes slip Syndicate information to me, but that’s getting harder to find since the showdown with Luciano folded the Syndicate’s West Coast branch. Last I heard, the feds are now focusing on the East Coast arm.”

Chip set his bottle down on the table with a light thunk, tension drawing high in his belly. “That sounds ominous.”

“In that the Syndicate still exists? You bet.” Dean, a real roll-with-the-punches-and-don’t-sweat-the-rest type, showed no true concern on his face, although he did twist the brown-glass neck of his beer bottle between his fingers. “The East Coasters are harder to nail down. Far more sophisticated. Less blatant thug, more stealthy corporate shark. Even in my days at the Syndicate, the East Coasters already had plans to shift toward a more legitimate facade of making bank, buying up large companies and the like. Though, I doubt their hands will ever stay clean.”

Dean’s warning settled like a lead ball in Chip’s brain, and he blew out a hard breath, the man’s description of the Syndicate a million times more menacing and insidious than anything he’d experienced. Not that he had any experience with crime rings. “I don’t know how you kept yourself and Sarah safe that day.”

Dean shook his head, clearly still blaming himself for Luciano’s inability to leave well enough alone. “All I know is, I’ll do anything to stop something like that happening again. And believe me, knowing the Syndicate, I can’t, in all honesty, say their beef with me is over now that Luciano is gone.”

Silence befell the table, and Chip stared down at his drink until a bottle top pinged to a stop before him on the table. He glanced up at Greg, now jabbing his chin toward the entrance. “Isn’t that your girl over there?”

Sure enough, Ally stood before the doors wearing a floaty, knee-length dress speckled with giant sunflowers, her gaze quick to meet his, her habitual smile slipping the moment her attention hit Dean. Still, she padded over, her fingers digging into the leather of a small, violet clutch that acted as a barrier between her and everyone else.

Jamie pulled out the empty seat beside her and offered it to Ally, while Ally’s greeting to Chip was no more affectionate than a simple and overly safe “Hello.”

He tilted his head to one side and sent her a What gives? look, although his actual words were far tamer. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The tension over her face faded, and she at least didn’t shy from giving him a direct stare. “I felt bad about skipping out on you yesterday and wanted to see your friends again while I had the chance.”

In an apparent peace offering, she smiled out to the others at the table, her joy once more drying when she got to Dean. His presence a seemingly sad reminder of what had passed between the two. Even if Dean made no sign of being bothered. Though, once again, not all that much bothered Dean.

“Hey, Ally”—Jamie nudged her with an elbow—“hope these two didn’t upset you too much yesterday spilling Chip’s news like that.”

“News?” Chip narrowed his eyes at Jamie. “What news?”

Though Jamie opened her mouth, Ally’s giggle interrupted any potential reply, and she swatted a hand in a gesture to let the subject go. “No, it’s fine. It was just a surprise. That’s all.”

Her reaction, plus the fact he still had no answer, had him glaring at the guy most likely to defy all social cues and speak. Greg. “What news?”

“Dude.” Greg gave a condescending grimace, one that said he thought Chip was slow on the uptake. “Your Encode grant.”

Chip’s world stilled, and he looked to Ally. Her quick exit yesterday and sheepishness today made a whole lot more sense.

“You got the grant already?” Dean’s question pulled Chip’s focus away.

“No, I’ve only—”

Ally’s lips parted in Dean’s direction before she spoke. “You knew?”

But her attention didn’t stay on him long, her gaze flicking to Chip with a small and incredulous shake of her head. “He knew?”

Her clear disappointment brought a pang to Chip’s heart, and he groaned, pressing his hands to his face and adding in his own head shake. “No. He didn’t know any more than you. And no, there’s no money.”

Though he dropped his hands, ready to ask why his news even upset her, Matt took his turn to interrupt.

“Here we go again.” Matt huffed out a big, exasperated sigh. “You’re playing yourself down, Chip. Making these finals is a huge deal. If you get it, there’s a huge target on your back as a tech genius in the making, and you’re set for life. If you don’t get the grant, well, pretty much every other tech company out there will at least be interested in looking at your ideas.”

He flared his eyes at Matt, a non-verbal order for him to shut up before Chip’s attention instinctively turned to Ally again, her lips pressed into a tight line and her bare shoulders rounded. The shift of her gaze away from his made his world slow, a new understanding taking over.

He hadn’t told her. He’d slept with her but hadn’t revealed this part of his life. Why? Right there and then, he wanted to explain, but any explanation would bring up personal details neither his friends nor Dean needed to hear.

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