Page 79 of Secondhand Secrets

Despite her attempts to avoid his gaze, he cupped her face and peered into her eyes—the soft concern in his forced her tummy to stiffen. She didn’t want concern. Especially not his. Not over her. Not over the breakup. Not over this. She also didn’t want to give him false hope.

Even as he took her hands, she winced at his insistence, sensing a need to unleash the talk she’d avoided in Boston. Only now, things were worse, and she didn’t know how.

So of course, she went with changing the subject, turning her attention to the sheriff standing over her. “How did you and Dean find us?”

The sheriff scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and his lip twisted into a small grimace. “Well first, you and Sarah didn’t show at our agreed meeting point, then came a report of an undeclared jet landing.”

“Once we spotted the plane, we hid the patrol car down the road and legged it over here,” Dean called over from next to Sarah. “We held our position on the opposite side of the barn, making it hard for anyone on the plane to see us.”

“Yeah, well”—the sheriff shook his head, his attention cast to the ground—“I don’t suppose that’s the last we’ll hear of Mark or the Syndicate.”

Dean’s expression firmed, and he nodded. “We’ll need reinforcements around town.”

“Lots of folks won’t be happy about that.” The sheriff jammed his hat back on. “But I’ll see what I can muster.”

“We’ll need more than that. They have my laptop.” Chip turned to the sheriff just a little behind him, his hands still holding hers. “I buried my work in an encrypted file and deleted any obvious data outside of that, but it’s not impossible that Mark could still recover something.”

“Still wouldn’t want to be Mark Farro.” The sheriff frowned at the ground. “Possession of your laptop makes him a national security risk. I’d say he’s not about to show his face anytime soon. In fact, he’s lost a lot coming after you, Chip. His assets may well be seized.”

“For some reason, none of that makes me feel better.” Chip’s gaze dipped, like he worked through the implications of what he’d just heard. That he was more at risk than ever.

“Maybe I can help.”

The statement came from an unfamiliar voice, and everyone quickly turned to the barn’s back door. A man stood there holding Chip’s laptop satchel high in one hand. His other hand rising in an act of cautious surrender.

Dean and the sheriff drew their weapons again.

“Put down the bag,” Dean barked out the order.

“Whoa. Hold on.” The man’s voice shook and sweat beaded his dark skin, his brown gaze flicking between the two armed men as he bent his long limbs and lowered the bag. “I’m so done with guns. I’m done with deranged people. I want out of the Syndicate. I just want out.”

“That guy’s from the plane.” Chip’s forehead wrinkled and his eyes held a hardened stare. “He was the one hacking into my computer.”

“No, man. You got it twisted.” The guy lifted his shoulders in a stiff shrug, the move shifting his loose t-shirt above his baggy jeans. “I’m just some tech guy, like you. Mark took over Encode, and my life has been hell ever since. Arrest me if you want, but I snuck out of that plane to get away from the guy. And I brought your laptop, didn’t I?”

He pointed at the satchel, and Dean and the sheriff yelled at him to keep his hands up. He did so with a quick, panicked motion, and Dean shuffled forward, collecting Ally’s discarded cuffs, his gun aimed until he had the new arrival restrained.

“Can we please make up a story about my arrest?” The guy’s voice took on a quick sort of rambling, and Dean marched him toward Mark’s other surviving employee. “Tell everyone I got caught trying to defend him. I’ll do the time, okay? Just make it sound like I was on his side, so he’ll leave me alone.”

Dean pressed on the guy’s shoulder, forcing him to sit, the other Syndicate man scrunching his face at the geek in a look of disgust.

Ally felt for the guy. She could see a lot of Chip in him—this man only a few steps in deeper with the Syndicate—just another pawn with his skills held hostage. Meanwhile, the sheriff strolled over to the satchel, slow to open the front flap before pulling out Chip’s laptop. “This yours?”

Chip nodded, the laptop cover decked out with a distinctive sticker of a cityscape Ally had also seen before.

His attention returned to her, his pupils dilated and his unwavering focus seeking the answers she still didn’t want to provide. “We’re still not okay, are we?”

His question referred to Boston. To her leaving. The small lines between his brows a sign of his pain over her exit, no matter how quiet the execution.

She shook her head, stirring her dizziness. She wasn’t okay either. “Nothing’s changed.”

He pulled her hands closer and kissed her knuckles, the tender gesture filling her heart with even more excruciating guilt. “Ally—”

She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to recall her ordeal in Boston. His dad. That woman at the gala. How out of place she’d felt. If she didn’t keep remembering, she’d cave. She’d take Chip back.

“There’s a reason you hesitated on telling me about the Encode grant.” She opened her eyes to find even more strain on his face, all of which begged her to change her mind.

But he pressed his hand to her cheek and wiped her tears away with his thumb, still caring for her through this difficult moment. “I didn’t want to lose you, even then.”

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