Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)(100)

Dinara snorted. “I’m not nostalgic!” She disappeared behind her trunk to relieve herself, and I hid behind an assortment of rocks to do the same.

Dinara scanned the horizon when I joined her a couple of minutes later. I kissed her plump lips. “They’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

“I know,” she said, but she didn’t stop searching the area. Finally, the outline of our huge motorhome appeared in the distance. It had its own shower and toilet, a kitchen, living area, and plenty of sleeping room.

The horn sounded a few times as usual before the motorhome pulled up beside our cars. The door on the driver’s side swung open and Aurora hopped out of the motorhome, her blond hair in a messy ponytail. “Roman refused to take a nap. He was too eager to watch the race,” she said with an apologetic expression.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “He can be as stubborn as his mother.”

Dinara sent me a warning look before she headed for the passenger side and climbed up to free Roman from his child seat. He wrapped his short legs around her waist as she came toward me. His dark hair was all over the place.

It had grown in the last few weeks and fell into his eyes, but he hated having it cut so we just gave up. Maybe he’d eventually grow tired of it being so long.

“I’ll cook dinner,” Aurora called as she headed into the back of the motorhome. When our son was born four years ago, we’d wondered how we’d manage to keep racing. Dinara had paused for a year and just supported me, but then she’d missed it too much. The standard races weren’t a big problem. Dinara’s friend and former pit girl Kate could watch Roman during that time but the sevenday circuit was a bigger problem. Luckily Aurora, Fabiano’s and Leona’s daughter, was fascinated by racing and wanted to earn additional pocket money, so she played our babysitter for a few weeks during the summer holidays. This was the second year she helped us out after begging her father for over a year to allow her this job. I had to swear to him to protect her with my life, which I would have done anyway. Fabiano was like family, so Aurora was too.

I set up a small fire in front of the motorhome. Dinara and I sank down in front of it with Roman between us. He’d fallen asleep the moment he was reunited with us. No surprise considering that it was four in the morning. His nap and sleeping routine always got messed up during this week. Aurora carried our breakfast over to us. Hash browns, bacon and eggs sunny-side-up. She yawned and gave us an embarrassed smile.

“Go to bed,” Dinara urged. She too looked exhausted. I was beyond that point. My head felt as if it was filled with cotton candy.

With a wave, Aurora disappeared in the motorhome and after a few minutes the lights went out.

“I wish we could sleep in our bed,” Dinara mumbled.

“Yeah.” I stroked Roman’s unruly head. We’d chosen his name because it worked in Russia and Italy, so we didn’t offend either of our families.

“But the rules are the rules.”

Dinara rolled her eyes. “I get it. We all have to sleep uncomfortably to have the same conditions.” Fifteen minutes later, the three of us huddled together in our shared tent. Roman hadn’t woken. I admired him for his ability to fall asleep in a heartbeat and continue to sleep no matter what happened around him. With him between us, Dinara and I fell asleep. This had become a tradition for us. One of us always gave in and drove a bit slower so the other could catch up and we could have family time in the evening.

Dinara and I were competitive but we didn’t really race to win. We raced because it was our life.

Dinara’s breathing evened out. She’d fallen asleep with her chin resting against Roman’s head and a peaceful expression on her face. Having Roman had really turned us into our own little family. We’d worried if it would be a problem to keep up our nomad life with a child but Roman never knew another way of living. He loved being fawned over by all the pit girls and getting to ride in all the cool race cars. And since we had him, my brothers and their families occasionally visited camp, even if Dinara and I tried to visit them as often as our tight racing schedule allowed.

Late the next morning, during our second breakfast, Aurora, Roman, Dinara and I sat around our kitchen table in the motorhome together and ate the khachapuri that Dinara had made.

“My father bought a new lodge near Aspen, a bigger one,” Dinara said as she checked her messages on her cellphone. Our main contact to our families

during the season was via phone. Dinara saw her father and halfbrothers even less frequently than my family. And her contact with Dima was limited to occasional text altogether. She showed me the screen with several photos of a splendid timber lodge.

“The last one was already too big for us. You told him that we won’t add more kids to our family, right?”

“I did, but I think he prefers to ignore it. Once Jurij and Artur start giving him grandkids we’ll be off the hook.”

“That can take a decade.”

“With so much space, we could all celebrate together. A big FalconeMikhailov Christmas,” I joked. The Bratva and the Camorra still only tolerated each other. There was no cooperation. Dinara’s and my marriage hadn’t changed that, not that we’d advertised our union. We didn’t want to stir up trouble in Chicago. Over the last decade, we’d established a routine.

We celebrated Christmas with my family in December and then we celebrated again with Dinara’s family. Because her father didn’t want me to set foot in Chicago, he’d bought a lodge in Aspen where we could celebrate together and enjoy a ski and snowboarding holiday. It was a compromise that worked well and Roman was ecstatic over getting presents twice.