Page 69 of Secondhand Secrets

Chip gave a derisive laugh. “Tell me about it. I’m living through an avalanche of bad right now.”

“Bad? What else isn’t working?”

“Okay, not bad exactly. Just, I got weird vibes at the presentation this morning”—trying to sort through his thoughts, he pinched the bridge of his nose, his unease predating learning about Ally’s exit—“their past and recent questions about my work seem out of sync with what I’m actually pitching, and when I asked the receptionist if Jay Evans, the guy who first called me about the presentation, would be in the meeting, she had no idea who I meant. I put that down to the new CEO owner doing some standard corporate reshuffling, but even then, I’ve never heard of the guy, which is unusual for this industry. He apparently owns a bigger non-tech company in New York called Laset Enterprises, so maybe I’m just imaging th—”

“Hang on. Laset Enterprises?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That name sounds familiar. Give me a minute.”

Chip’s ears filled with Dean’s muffled footsteps and then typing, like Chip must have caught Dean at home. “Was this CEO at your meeting?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t say m—.”

“Holy shit.”

“What?” An icy tingle swept down his spine. Dean wasn’t a guy all that easy to surprise, and he sounded truly shaken now. “What is it?”

“You’re right. Laset did buy out Encode, and Laset is Mark Farro’s company.”

“Mark? Mark Who?”

“Did your CEO today have blue eyes and brown wavy hair?”

“Yeah, why?”

“This is bad news. Really bad news. If there’s any chance they sought you out specifically.” Dean let out a low growl, followed by a frustrated sigh. “I need to get off the phone and find Ally. Shit, I need to break the news to Sarah too.”

“What? Ally? Sarah? Why?” Chip’s heart thundered, and sweat prickled along his hairline. A prospect far more frightening than Ally solo-traveling cross-country taking over. “This doesn’t have something to do with the Syndicate, does it?”

“Afraid so.” Dean paused, as though a couple of seconds of silence might be enough to quell the overwhelming buzz filling Chip’s ears, his nerves well and truly fried. “Mark Farro is Luciano Conti’s cousin.”

“Oh, shit.” Chip wasn’t one to swear, but he did now, pieces from the last few weeks falling into place.

“Mark’s worse than Luciano. Smarter. More covert. I’m going to need some heavy evidence to believe him buying Encode is just a coincidence.”

Dean and Chip both. Though Chip now regretted not looking deeper into Laset Enterprises, a task he’d skipped over in favor of working on Stonewall, relegating any research as something to do only if he was offered a contract.

He’d been too busy chasing success. On proving himself to his dad. On convincing Ally that a life together could work. Not only had he allowed her to pass him by this morning, he’d inadvertently put her in danger.

“I only know basic details on your Stonewall program, but my guess is”—Dean’s voice broke through Chip’s panic—“he’s done his homework on me. On Sarah. And when he found out about you and what you were working on, he saw his golden ticket to gain revenge and a profit.”

Another moment passed, and Chip’s mind hooked on the questions Encode had lobbed at him over these weeks—the implications of reverse engineering Stonewall, and how his code could be misused. Then his thoughts jumped to the fact that Mark Farro might hurt anyone Chip loved. Maybe even Ally.

“As of this morning, he has access to my code. This is bad.” He shot to his feet and headed out of his room. “I need to fix this.”

In seconds, he raced down the stairs, collecting his laptop bag on his way out the front door. “Dean, find Ally for me. I’m on my way.”

Mark’s focus faded from the woman speaking ahead of him in the long boardroom. Despite the potential in this candidate’s idea and his love of making money, his mind clung to nothing but closing his deal with Chip Overton.

Even if he already had access to Chip’s partly finished code, he wanted Stonewall in its entirety—he wanted Chip’s signature in a watertight contract—and thus, control of his work as well as the man himself.

Every bit of research he’d done on Chip, on his idea, on his future potential, said this investment would pay out. And so far, everything was going to plan.

Mark sat taller and listened a little closer to the woman’s ideas on tracking customer’s online behavior, although she had zero chance of winning the Graduate grant over Chip. Maybe in time, Mark would find the headspace to approach this lady with some other offer.

“Boss.” The man beside Mark, his new lead tech, cleared his throat and leaned in closer. “Something’s not right.”

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