Played: Manhattan Ruthless - 8

Chapter

Seven

I read the headline again and scowl. “I can’t believe this shit! Once is a coincidence, twice is fucking sabotage. Somebody gave them that information, Elijah. Someone at our fucking company.”

Elijah frowns across the dining table while nodding his agreement. “The Fuller patent could have been put down to coincidence given we were all chasing the same goal, but this one was ours. Nobody knew about it. When I find out who leaked that information, I will …” His sentence is cut off by a snarl.

Nathan takes the newspaper from me and scans the article again. We’ve all read it at least half a dozen times. It’s the reason all of us James boys, along with our dad, canceled our weekend plans and are sitting in our childhood home on a Saturday morning. “So this is definitely a leak?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

“Nobody but key people in our organization knew about that patent. And now here it is, splashed across the New York fucking Times by Spartan.” I growl the name of our biggest competitor. Before now, despite our guts telling us something different, the contracts they won over us could be explained. They’re a well-established company, almost as old as ours. And while they’re not as big, their relatively new CEO is some young genius entrepreneur, at least that’s what Astyn Bartley was named by Time magazine last year. We lose out on contracts all the time—it’s part of business. But this tech was ours, and the patent was being filed Monday morning. Spartan, those fuckers, filed theirs yesterday afternoon.

“I can’t believe it. In our own company,” Pop says sadly.

I give him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “We’ll find out who it was, Pop.”

“And fucking destroy them,” Elijah snaps.

“So what’s the plan?” Drake asks. “The people who knew about that patent will also have seen this article. Everyone will be suspicious and twitchy as fuck.”

“But they’ll also be eager to find out whoever the fuck did this, because they’ve potentially put their jobs on the line too,” Nathan adds.

“We’ll get everyone involved in tomorrow,” I say. “Don’t give a damn that it’s Sunday. Between us, we’ll be able to tell who’s lying.”

“What if it’s not one of the people involved in the patent though?” Maddox says as he places a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the table. Cooking is his love language. I’d prefer Scotch at a time like this, but they smell incredible. All of us except Pop, who’s watching his diet, reach for one.

I finish chewing and ask, “What do you mean?”

“You said the information was leaked? Then it could have been anyone in the company with access to your systems. Theoretically.”

Elijah shakes his head. “Our firewalls are locked down tight, and we check for security breaches every day. There haven’t been any reported.”

Maddox takes a bite of a cookie. “I know you guys work in tech, but it’s developing faster than anyone can keep up with. With the strides in AI and whatnot, who’s to say it’s not some disgruntled minion who got passed up for a promotion or has no morals and wants to make a fast buck.”

I finish my second cookie and debate reaching for a third. Fuck, they’re good. “Bro has a point.”

Elijah regards him intently. “You sure you don’t want to come work in the family business, Mad?”

Maddox scoffs. “Fuck no.”

Our father huffs—he built that business from nothing—but Maddox flashes him a warm smile that instantly appeases the old man. It’s so good to see them together after everything that happened before Maddox left. It brings a lump to my throat when I recall him storming out of this house and swearing he’d never come back. It was years before he did.

“We still need to talk to everyone involved in that project,” Elijah says, bringing me back to our current problem. “It doesn’t hurt to lay our cards out on the table. Make them sweat a little.”

“It will have to be tomorrow,” I remind him. “I leave for the conference in Philly Monday morning and won’t be back until Wednesday.”

Elijah signals his agreement.

“If it is a leak at Jamestech, can the security team be fully trusted?” Nathan says.

Pop sighs. “Until we find out exactly who it is, everyone is a suspect. And if this goes back to the last patent Spartan took from under our noses, it’s been going on for a year at least.”

“Could be longer,” I add. “Who knows what other information Spartan has been handed.”

Pop’s lips flatten into a thin line. “Then I’ll wager it’s not going to be easy to find out who it is. They obviously haven’t done anything to come to our attention in the monthly security sweeps.”

Nathan leans back in his chair and runs a hand over his beard. “It could be someone from security.”

“So we need to hire someone from outside. Someone we’ve never worked with before?” I suggest.

Elijah looks around the table. “Any of you know any decent PIs?”

Drake’s eyes light up.

“Are you thinking Jessie Ryan would help?” Elijah asks. The Ryans are some of Nathan and Drake’s biggest clients. They’re also Irish Mafia.

Nathan shakes his head. “I’m not sure we need to involve them at this stage, not unless we need a hacker. And as much as I respect them, they’re still the mob. Besides, Shane keeps riding my ass about them having me on retainer and not the other way around.”

“And Jessie is pregnant, so they’re more protective than usual,” Drake adds, pulling off his tie and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. “I was thinking of someone else, anyway. He’s a guy I used in Chicago.”

I rest my forearms on the table and take another bite of cookie. “A good PI?”

“Better than a PI,” Drake says. “I believe the Morettis call him a fixer.”

Nathan rolls his eyes. “So, we’re gonna jump into bed with the Italian Mafia instead of the Irish mob?”

The irony of him being the one who objects to bringing this guy on board is too good not to comment on. “More of your closest friends.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, shrugging. “But my point still stands. Jamestech is a legitimate multi-billion-dollar corporation.”

Drake shakes his head. “This guy isn’t Mafia. He’s legit, I swear. He’s the one renting out the apartment in Marble Hill.”

Elijah frowns, and I can see him running down the extensive list of properties we own. We have a lot of properties in New York, and they’re managed by a realtor, but Elijah knows more about them than the rest of us. “The guy who’s looking after his sick grandfather?”

Drake nods. “Yes. See, he’s a good man. And he’s really fucking good at his job. Back in Chicago, they call him Hotshot.”

“Hotshot?” I roll my eyes. But I guess he can’t be as pretentious as his name suggests if he’s looking after his sick grandpa.

Drake grins. “Don’t worry, Mase, he’s nowhere near as cool as you.”

I return his grin and flip him the bird.

Ignoring me, he continues. “That’s what people called him. He helped me out with a few really tough cases. Plus, he happens to be in New York right now, and he’s looking for a case to get his teeth into.”

Elijah’s already nodding, the cogs turning in his brain. “Can you set up a meeting with him for Monday?”

Drake smiles and leans back in his chair. “Yeah, I don’t think that’ll be a problem. That okay with you, Mase?”

I nod. “Sure. Elijah can meet with the hotshot and fill me in on the details.”

Drake smirks at me. “Wait until you meet him. You’ll find out what I mean.”

Well, now I’m all kinds of intrigued and looking forward to meeting him when I get back. Let’s see exactly how hot Drake’s guy actually is. Figuratively speaking, of course—I don’t mix business with pleasure.