Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)(37)

Nino appeared before me and held out his hand. “Come on, Ekaterina.”

My eyes widened. I put my hand in his and followed him outside. Before the door closed, I heard Mom whimper. “Please don’t hand me to Grigory.

You wouldn’t believe what he’d do to me.”

“Probably the same thing I’d do to fucking scum like yourself.”

Nino led me upstairs. He picked up a Coke for me at the bar then we headed into a room with a bed and bathroom. I took a hesitant sip from my Coke, then gave him the smile Mom had taught me. He shook his head. “No need for that ever again, Ekaterina. Your father will be here soon, then you’ll be safe.”

I nodded, even though I didn’t know what safe meant anymore. I remembered feeling safe distantly. I remembered lying in Dad’s arms as he read me Russian fairytales. Mom didn’t allow me to say anything in Russian.

“You can take a shower and I’ll ask one of the girls to bring you clothes.”

I nodded again. He nodded too. “You’re not going to run, are you? I don’t want to lock you in.”

“No,” I whispered. I didn’t want to run anymore. Ever since Mom had taken me with her, things had been bad. I wanted them to return to how they used to be.

He nodded, then he walked out.

I looked at the bed, remembering the bed I’d been in less than an hour ago. A bed in Cody’s basement. I shivered. The old man who’d been in it with me hadn’t come with us. Nino had stayed with him for a while before he’d joined us in the car.

The look in Nino’s eyes afterward had reminded me of the look that I sometimes saw in Dad’s eyes, or even Remo’s eyes just now.

I sank down on the bed and tugged at my white, frilly nightgown. They all loved frills and white. Wrapping my arms around my chest, I waited. I hated the silence. Usually, Mom always allowed me to watch whatever I wanted on TV after the men left, for as long as I wanted. Falling asleep before the TV

was better than listening to my thoughts, to the voices of the men my memory kept repeating. Now nothing drowned out the words the old man had said.

They replayed over and over again in my head. “Sweet little girl. Good girl. Give Daddy what he needs.”

I pressed my palms over my ears, but the voices didn’t stop.

The door opened and a woman came in. I kept my hands over my ears.

She looked at me, her eyes big and sad, and put down a heap of clothes.

“They’ll be too big on you. But better than what you’re wearing now, right?”

I blinked at her. She left again and the voice became even louder. I hummed but they were deep in my head, louder than my voice. I rocked back and forth, wanting out of my head, out of my body, away from the voices. I felt so tired. But if I closed my eyes now, faces would join the voices. My palms hurt and my ears rang but I pressed even harder, my nails scratching my scalp. “Stop,” I gasped. “Stop.”

But the voices kept on whispering. Stop never worked.

The door opened again. Remo stood on the threshold. He stepped inside and I shut up. Humming loudly made people think you were strange. I slowly lowered my hands. Blood and skin stuck under my nails from where I’d hurt my scalp. My pink polish had peeled off in places.

I was momentarily distracted by a red stain on Remo’s gray shirt.

“Did you kill Mom and Cody?” I asked.

Remo raised his eyebrows. Dad had always tried to hide everything bad from me, but Mom had told me everything. Remo was like Dad. He had the same dangerous glimmer in his eyes. They were killers. Mom said they were bad, but neither Dad nor Remo had hurt me. The nice men Mom had brought home, they had.

“No, I didn’t,” he said.

He crouched before me, meeting my gaze. The other men preferred to tower over me. He didn’t look sad or as if he felt pity for me. He looked as if he understood me.

“Why not?”

He smiled a strange smile. “Because they aren’t mine to kill.”

I didn’t understand.

“Would you be sad if your mother was dead?”

I looked down at my hands. I loved Mom. But I wasn’t sad. Sometimes I even hated her. “I’m a bad girl.”

“You’re trying to be a good girl so people hurt you less?”

I frowned then nodded.

“Don’t,” he said firmly.

I looked up.

“Don’t ever try to be good to people who hurt you. They don’t deserve it.”

I nodded because that’s what I thought was expected.

“Your father will be here in a couple of hours, Ekaterina. He’s going to take you home.”

“Home,” I repeated, testing the word. I remembered warmth and happiness. It seemed so far away, like the fairytales Dad loved to tell me.

He straightened and looked at me. “Nothing can break you unless you allow it. If you ever return to Vegas, you’ll get your chance to end it.”

I didn’t understand anything. My body was screaming for sleep but I fought it.

“We ordered pizza. You can have some.”

I nodded. Then my eyes darted to the TV attached to the wall across from the bed. Remo headed toward the nightstand and took the remote before handing it to me. I immediately turned it on and raised the volume. It was late so all movies were for adults. I stopped when I saw a familiar scene from the movie Alien.