Page 122 of Deep Tide

“Oh. Yeah, sorry, I’ve been distracted.”

Silence.

“Well, do you still want this or not?”

His pulse picked up. “You got a hit?”

“Yeah, and it’s a badge.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s one of your guys. A fed. Name’s Brian Wentworth. No, wait. Bentworth.”

“Bentworth with a B?”

“Yeah. You know him?”

Sean’s head started spinning. He knew the name. He clicked open his email. He entered the name in the search field and clenched his teeth as he waited.

An email popped up, and Sean bit back a curse. Brian Bentworth was DEA. He was copied on a thread with Sean two years ago during a joint operation based in Houston. Sean must have met him at some point, too, which was why he’d looked familiar standing around that pump jack the other night.

“Sean?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you get the name down?”

“Yeah, I’ll check it out. Thanks.”

“Well, do you want me to—”

“Don’t mention this to anyone.”

“Okay.”

“No one, Nicole. Do you understand?”

“I got it.”

Sean ended the call, sweating as he set down his phone. Bentworth was a federal agent. And he was tied in with both that rancher, Tillman, and Luc Gagnon. But Moore had insisted they didn’t have any undercover agents working on this.

But clearly someone was, which meant one of two things. Either someone was working undercover and Moore was being intentionally kept out of the loop.

Or the operation was compromised.

Sean shut his laptop and got up from the stool. He needed to talk to Moore, ASAP. If someone was keeping Moore in the dark—and by extension, keeping his whole team in the dark—that was a major problem. It meant someone didn’t trust him, and Sean found that difficult to believe. He’d worked with Moore for almost eight years. If there were doubts floating around about him, then the Bureau’s top brass wouldn’t have placed him in charge of one of the most important operations the cyber crimes unit had ever undertaken.

Sean raked his hand through his hair and looked around. He needed to suss out what the hell was going on without tipping Moore off in case he was the problem.

He grabbed his keys and phone and walked out the door, his mind racing a million miles an hour as he tried to formulate a plan. Moore was in Brownsville right now. Sean would have to drive down there, then find a way to get him alone and talk to him.

Sean stepped onto the elevator just as his phone buzzed. Leyla.

Shit.

He needed to let it go to voicemail. He should have called her by now, but he still hadn’t nailed down his plans.

If he didn’t pick up, though, she’d think he was blowing her off. He connected the call.

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