Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)(12)

I tangled my hand in her hair and gently pulled back, considering to stop this after all. Her gaze snapped up, and her lips pulled into a needy smile.

Fuck. I gripped her arms and shoved her onto the sofa.

To this day C.J. was the best lay I’d ever had, and much more than that, but these last few weeks all of my fantasies had revolved around a redhead. I knelt before her and raised her heels onto my shoulders before I plunged into her. As always when we met after a long time, we fucked all night until we were spent. That’s when we started talking about everything that bothered us, but this time I had a more important topic to discuss than race car driving.

“What do you know about Eden?”

C.J. lifted her head from my shoulder, looking surprised. “Eden? Why are you interested in her?”

“I’m interested in her backstory. Remo won’t share details with me but I have a feeling something important happened. It might be useful for our fight against the Bratva.”

Lying to C.J. wasn’t something I enjoyed doing, and usually I just skidded around topics she wasn’t allowed to know anything about.

C.J. sat up slowly, looking thoughtful. “Most of the other girls and I kept our distance to Eden. In the beginning because your brother ordered us to ignore her and then later because she really preferred to be on her own. I haven’t worked in the same place as her in a while. I think she’s now stationed in a dingy little club outside of Vegas.”

“You girls talk. Did you never speculate about the whys for her special treatment?”



“Donna was one of the few girls who were there when Eden first appeared in Vegas. She always said that Eden pissed off Remo majorly.” That’s what I’d gathered. No new information really.

C.J. smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I wish I could help you. Maybe you should talk to Donna. She’s waiting tables in the Red Lantern if you want to go looking for her.”

Talking to C.J. was one thing but going around questioning other prostitutes about Eden would definitely make Remo furious. The more I pissed him off now, the less likely he’d listen to me if I put in a good word for Dinara in case she ever showed up in Vegas to do whatever she had in mind.



The next day, I decided to give Remo another try. I joined my brothers in our gym in an abandoned casino for fight training. Savio had been surprised when I’d asked him if I could drive with him. Nino and Remo were already inside the fighting cage when Savio and I entered the vast hall.

Most people who stepped into our gym, but few were allowed, couldn’t stop staring at the chandelier dangling from the ceiling above the fighting cage. Remo and Nino stopped fighting when they noticed us. Savio and I strolled over to the cage. Fabiano was waiting for his turn and kept himself busy doing bench-presses.

He sat up. “Hey stranger.”

I gave him a short wave. Nino was already climbing out of the cage, making room for Remo’s next opponent. Fabiano rose from the bench but I gripped his shoulder.

“It’s my turn,” I said. He cocked an eyebrow then shrugged and sank back down. “Knock yourself out. Though, Remo’s going to do that.” “That’s right,” Savio agreed, chuckling.

I didn’t react. I wanted answers, and Remo had avoided giving them to me. In the past we’d shared some of our most honest conversation in the fighting cage. I hoped it would be the same today.

Remo’s smile widened knowingly when I stepped into the fighting cage.

It was difficult to trick Remo into doing anything. He was a trickster himself.

But I wouldn’t back down this time. I was sick of fishing around in the dark.

“That look in your eyes is a good start for a fight,” Remo said.

I didn’t bother taping my hands, raising them instead. “You ready to fight?”

“Always.”

I was usually a cautious fighter, keeping my defenses up a long time and not one for risky moves, but today I immediately went into attack mode.

Remo took me up on my offer and our next few hits bounced off our respective defenses before Remo landed two hard punches in my stomach and one in my kidneys. Then I got my first hit in. I raced more than I fought and Remo was still the best fighter because he made sure to be in the fighting cage as often as possible and not just for training. He fought against real opponents for money. If I wanted to keep this fight going long enough for answers, I needed to bring my A-game.

Ten minutes later, both he and I were covered in sweat and blood. I was bleeding from a cut in my lower lip and Remo from one in his eyebrow where I’d opened up part of his scar marring one side of his face. We did a water break, leaning against the mesh of the cage beside each other. “Ask,” Remo muttered between gulps of water.

“Why does Dinara think her mother’s dead?”

“Rest is over,” he declared and I barely had time to put away my bottle before he sent a jab toward my face but I dodged the hit.

“Because he thinks he can protect her,” Remo grunted as he avoided my upper cut.

“Protect her from what?”

“From herself, I assume.” Remo sent me a wry smile. “But we both know protecting someone from themselves is fucking impossible, right?”

I hopped out of his arm’s length. Remo had tried to save me from my drug abuse and wrong friends when I was younger. He’d only succeeded when he’d sent me off to New York, away from his protection. Sometimes the risk of falling without a safety net was necessary, that’s what Remo had learned from this experience.