Page 112 of Fury

“What’d she say?”

“She said she hasn’t seen Ashley for years. That Ashley started blowing her off a while before that, and she just gave up on her. She sounded irritated.”

I got in touch with Rhys, and we met at his apartment in Chicago, which was more of a shabby garage than a normal living space.

I opened another can of beer. “Anything new with Med?” I’d been keeping tabs on him and his crew from jail through word of mouth, through the internet, through Rhys.

“His club is still having a hard time bouncing back from that series of surprise attacks. He hasn’t been on his home ground in maybe two years now.”

“You’d told me, but I figured that was temporary.”

“He’s still keeping himself on the move. No one ever really knows where or when he’ll pop up, posse in tow.”

“So he’s spooked down deep.”

“Oh yeah. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd that suddenly all these fires blew up around him and he’s been on the run? Moving around only with a core group of men, keeping his head down low? Is it the eighties all over again, and nobody sent us the memo?”

Rhys shrugged as he lit a cigarette. “From what I hear, thefamigliaisn’t happy with this mess.”

“The Tantuccis? The Smoking Guns always worked with the Tantuccis,” I said.

“Yeah, them.”

“The Tantuccis got any enemies?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Rhys let out a tight laugh.

“I mean a specific rival. Someone who’d benefit from a branch of the Tantucci labor force being shut down.”

Rhys took in a breath, leaning back in his ratty vinyl sofa. “Well, I got to say, the hate the Tantuccis got for the Guardinos is legendary around this town. Those two families have been enemies from Prohibition days. You think maybe Med got himself in the middle of that lasagna, and the Guardinos are using him for target practice to keep the Tantuccis in line?”

“Why not? I followed one of the Guardinos’ hit men years back. Remember, when you were helping me out, keeping an eye on—”

“DeMarco, right?”

“Yeah. Turo DeMarco.”

“He’s top tier now, dude.” Rhys shook his brown hair from his dark blue eyes as he played with his lighter, adjusting the flame. “He’s risen up in the world since then. His name turns heads, that’s for sure. Started low level over a decade ago, but he’s a decision maker now. Played his cards right. He’s real smooth.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

Real smooth.I grabbed the bottle of bourbon and gulped down a mouthful. “If Med’s got Turo DeMarco after him…”

“Boom.” A chuckle rumbled deep in Rhys’s big chest.

“Huh.” I wiped at my mouth, my throat burning in a blaze of bourbon. Med’s business targeted and Med on the run. My veins raced with heat, and it wasn’t from the booze.

Med had pissed someone off and in a big way. But what intrigued me was that only someone from the inside would know how to pinpoint all these hotspots that had been raided, spots that had been in his territory and notoriously under the grid. Med was a paranoid psycho to begin with, and now he was shaken up, freaking out, and on the run like a cockroach scurrying across a bullet ridden wall in the darkness.

I saw the connection like a map spread out before me. And on that map flashed a route between DeMarco and someone who knew the inside of Med’s club.

And that someone could only be, had to be, Serena.

Rhys tamped down on the leaves in his pipe, lit it, and took a couple of stiff inhales. “Ah. You always come through for me, man. Damn. Shit’s fine.”

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