Page 140 of Crazed

"Pretty sure you want the information I have," Tully gloats, focusing on me.

I tighten my arms to my chest, trying not to react. Everything about Tully gets on my last nerve lately. I respond, "Such as?"

He lights up his cigar, puffing a few times, creating a cloud of thick smoke around us.

I step a few feet back and wave the smoke out of my face. A lot of guys I know love cigars. To me, it's always felt like it was smothering my lungs. Plus, I prefer to stay in shape. Not being able to breathe while working out doesn't sound appealing to me.

He takes a few more drags then slowly releases more toxic air. He states, "Leo's ordered a raid on your club."

The hairs on my neck rise. "What are you talking about?"

Papà hands Tully a tumbler of whiskey.

Tully takes a mouthful, swallows, then calmly answers, "Our contact inside just relayed the message. Leo's men planted drugs in it. The FBI is raiding it in ten minutes."

"You're lying," I accuse, but my gut says this isn't one of Tully's games. He spoke without dragging it out like he usually does.

Papà's color drains from his cheeks, but it's quickly replaced with rage. He snarls, "Leo set us up with the FBI?"

It's a crime family rule no one breaks. We deal with our problems between families. Unless they're on your payroll, getting law enforcement agents involved is a huge sin. It opens all the families up to legal issues. Plus, the stronger we all are, whether we're on the same side or not, the harder it is for the police to hurt any of us.

"He did."

I tug on my hair and mutter, "Jesus. Ten minutes..." I focus on Tully. "What are they planting?"

"Heroin."

"Fuck!" I yell. Then I point out, "And you knew but did nothing?"

Tully takes another puff of his cigar, like we're playing a game of cards or something.

It irritates me but also gives me a sense of relief. I freeze, realizing he's back to playing games. He'll only do it if he's in control of something.

Now I'm going to owe him again.

Shit.

Better than having the FBI on my back, I suppose.

"Tully?" Papà demands.

After another mouthful of whiskey, Tully responds, "My guys went in and removed the drugs."

Yep. I'm going to owe him big-time.

"When?" Papà questions.

Tully finishes his drink. "Twenty minutes ago."

"They got everything?" I ask.

"All of it. But now my inside guy's compromised," Tully announces.

My gut dives. I'm going to owe Tully double. This isn't some little favor. It takes years to penetrate your guy into another crime family.

"You're sure they got it all?" Papà asks.

Tully nods. "Every last packet."

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