Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)(3)

reverence in the voices of so many people when they talked about the monsters from Vegas.

I didn’t doubt he carried the name Falcone like a weapon if required, but he seemed confident enough to control the racers with his own charisma. I watched him return to the shabby gas station. A couple of pit girls who’d gathered in the shadow of the roof followed him with their hungry eyes. A powerful name, money and the aura of a bad boy with the indisputable fact that Adamo had a body few girls would dismiss drew them in like a moth to the flame. His sweaty shirt clung to his chest, revealing the lines of muscle and an impressive six-pack, and his ass in the dark blue jeans wasn’t shabby either.

I knew he’d be calling Vegas now, asking for further instructions. Adamo may be the organizer of the races but his oldest brother and Capo Remo Falcone was a control freak and would keep a watchful eye over everything.

Two Russians showing up in their territory definitely required a family chat.

My pulse picked up thinking of Remo but I squashed my anxiety. This wasn’t a sprint, it was a marathon.

Dima stalked toward me. “This is bad. You know that, right?” he whispered in Russian.

“We’ll see,” I replied, not bothering to lower my voice. Soon everyone would realize we were Russians, why try to hide it?

“We should call your father in case things go badly. I can’t protect you alone.”

“No,” I clipped. “Remember your promise, Dima.”

“I do. And the first oath I ever made was to protect you.”

“We’ll be fine.” I didn’t feel the same amount of confidence my voice conveyed. Adamo hadn’t been overly hostile, and I had a feeling Remo wouldn’t hurt me. I wasn’t completely sure about Dima’s safety, but every attempt to make him leave my side had been futile. Torture or death weren’t my main concern though. I didn’t want to be sent away. I needed to get to know Adamo Falcone, get him to trust me so he’d tell me everything I wanted to know. But for that to happen, I had to become part of the race circuit.





Remo wasn’t answering his phone, so I called Nino.

“What’s the matter? You never call so shortly before a race unless it’s urgent.”

Of course, Nino was already ahead. “It is urgent. We might have a problem here. Two new racers. Fake ID. Russian origin. Dima Antonov and Dinara—”

“Mikhailov.”

I was used to Nino knowing everything so I wasn’t overly surprised. “You know her?”

Nino was silent for almost a minute, which meant this was really bad.

“Talk to Remo. He can tell you more.”

“If he knows, you know. What’s the big secrecy about?”

“Dinara and Remo have history.”

“History, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dinara was younger than me, my age tops, so history couldn’t mean he’d fucked her, but that had been pretty much his only interest in the female species before he found his wife Serafina.

“Talk to Remo.”

“Isn’t he around? Why don’t you hand him the phone?”

“Give me a sec. He’s in the cage with Nevio.” My nephew was only six, almost seven, but Remo and he often trained in the cage, mainly to control Nevio’s outbursts and his hyperactivity.

Rustling sounded, then the line went quiet. I waited impatiently. It used to bother me a lot that my older brothers kept secrets from me, but now it mostly just annoyed me. Remo and Nino had gone through a lot together.

They shared many secrets I’d never be privy on. Another rustling in the line, then Remo’s deep, out-of-breath voice. “Adamo, you want to talk?”

I doubted Nino hadn’t filled him in on what I wanted to talk about but by now I knew Remo’s games. I leaned against the wall, my eyes following the redhead through the broken window. “Two Russian racers joined the circuit today. Dima Antonov and Dinara Mikhailov. I’m wondering if it’s a coincidence that Dinara shares the same last name with the Pakhan of the Bratva in Chicago?”

Her eyes briefly met mine and again that challenging smile hit me, as if she knew what I was doing and whom I was talking to. She didn’t look worried at all. That either made her very brave or very reckless. The latter would explain why she was into illegal street racing.

“No coincidence, no. She’s his daughter.”

“His daughter?” I repeated in disbelief, mostly because Remo didn’t sound shocked by the news or even worried. I’d hoped for some distant relative. But his daughter?

Fuck.

“And what the fuck is she doing in our territory? Playing car racer?

Don’t tell me this a coincidence.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah, she registered with some fake ID. She and a Russian guy with her.”

“Probably her bodyguard. I doubt Grigory would allow her to walk around by herself.”

“You think the Pakhan knows his daughter is in our territory?”

“I think Grigory makes sure he knows about Dinara’s whereabouts at all time.”

“How about you tell me why she isn’t afraid to be in enemy territory?

Why she revealed her name without batting an eyelash?”

Remo was silent on the other end. While Nino had done it to think things through, Remo probably only wanted to play with me.