Page 27 of Crossing Lines

“Sure, hang on a second,” she said laughing.

“Thanks.”

“What in the hell is going on?” Chip asked. I held up a finger.

“Landry.”

“Derek, it’s Trace. I need a favor.”

“Sure thing. What’s up?”

“I need all the information you can find on Kurt Bohlen. B.O.H.L.E.N.” I spelled out the name, my worry skyrocketing. “He’s from New Mexico. Anything you can find would be great. Where he’s been, who he hangs out with, all that shit, and kid, do me a solid, don’t mention that name or this search in front of the suit. I’ll come in and tell Gabe what’s going on as soon as I figure it out.”

“Sure thing. I’ll get back to you soon.”

“Thanks, kid.”

“What are you doing?” Chip questioned, his voice tight.

I blanked my screen, slid the phone back into my pocket, and met his gaze, then looked at Tank.

“You remember the bounty Stel and I took while you two were off in Colorado chasing the Dante brothers?” They both nodded. “Stella got into a fight. Remember her black eyes and broken ribs?” They nodded again.

My anger grew just remembering that case. I cracked my neck to relieve some of the tension. “The one who got shot and locked up—that was Kurt Bohlen.”

“Son of a bitch. If he saw us…he could have followed us back.” Chip cursed again.

“That’s what I’m worried about. No way he’d forget my mug. When I caught up to him and saw what he’d done to Stel that day, I’d lost my temper.”

“You should have killed the bastard,” Tank growled. “A little lye, a little water…” He shrugged.

“I wanted to, but by the time he was unconscious, the cops were there. I didn’t know it beforehand, but the neighbors called them when they heard gunfire. Which was probably for the best.”

“So what’s the plan? Are you going to tell Stel?” Chip raised a brow as he finished off his beer.

What was the plan? I scrubbed a hand over my face and shrugged. “I don’t know. What’s the chances that the fucker was watching from afar?” I asked.

“Pretty good. That’s how he avoided capture the first time. No one could ever figure out why he wasn’t there. Most of these assholes want to be there to gloat and celebrate. They figured it out soon enough that he was a coward and hid out, letting his men go down.”

“That seems too good to be true, though. I’ve got a feeling—” Chip started then stopped. Shaking his head.

“What?”

“It would make more sense if someone was passing along info. There’s no way—that op was a complete clusterfuck—but we both know how well planned out we had our side of it. There should have been no way for this op to go down like it did.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Someone must be feeding them info. I’m thinking it’s the CI; what was his name?”

“Morris Austin.”

“Yeah, him. He knew more than he said, that’s why the peckerhead didn’t show up that night.”

“He was found dead two days ago,” Tank commented before downing the rest of his beer. “His body was left at a roadside rest area—” He looked at his phone. “Seems like a hit. One shot to the back of the head.”

“Who sent that over?” I asked.

His lips tipped up. “Ruby Dee. I’ve had her searching for him since you two called me from the hospital.”

“And you’re just now telling us this?” Chip snarled.

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