Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)(55)

“Can you shoot?”

“Dima taught me.”

“You can have my gun if you need it.” I still thought Dinara looked too out of it to make this kind of monumental decision so shortly after having the option handed to her on a silver platter.

“It’s my decision,” she clipped, her eyes becoming more focused. “My past, my decision. Don’t try to stop me.” “I won’t,” I promised.

She took a deep breath before she stepped into the building, followed closely by me.

The air was thick with smoke, spilled beer and sweat as we headed into the dimly lit bar of the whorehouse. A couple of men sat at the bar, chatting with prostitutes, and half a dozen booths were occupied as well. In some of them the whores and their customers had already moved past chatting. In our better establishment any kind of touching was limited to the backrooms but here things were handled a bit more openly. One of the whores was rubbing a fat guy through his pants while he was pawing at her breasts and slobbering all over her neck.

Dinara didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes scanned the room, and I did the same, but didn’t spot anyone who could be Eden. “Let’s go to the bar counter,” I said.

The men at the bar checked out Dinara hungrily but the look I sent them made them avert their gazes hurriedly. The barkeeper, a lanky blond guy in his twenties, came over to us,. “Mr. Falcone,” he said with a reverent nod.

“What can I do for you?”

“Two vodka, and you can tell me where Eden is.”

“She’s in a backroom with a customer. Do you want me to get her for you?”

“No,” Dinara said quickly.

The barkeeper gave me a questioning look and I nodded. “We’ll wait for her. Let her finish her business. But get us those drinks. We’ll be over in a booth waiting.”

With a hand on Dinara’s back, I led her toward a booth in the corner. We made ourselves comfortable and a moment later a waitress delivered our drinks. Dinara looked around, her face hard. “This place is disgusting.”

“Are your father’s whorehouses better?”

“Most of them aren’t, no. But he’s got a few more luxurious establishments as well.”

Dinara nipped at her vodka then set it down again. I slid closer to her, seeking her gaze.

“Thank you for being at my side,” she murmured. “You have every reason to mistrust me or to mind your own business but instead you chose to help me, even when I’m being a bitch.”

“You aren’t a bitch. You are stubborn and strong-willed.”

A slow smile spread on her beautiful face but it dropped rapidly.

Her eyes snapped toward the bar and I followed her gaze. A woman and a man had just stepped back into the bar through the backdoor. The man had his arm wrapped around her waist and she was leaning into him, giving him a flirty smile. Her hair was colored a burgundy red and her skin was tanned, but her cheekbones were unmistakable.

Dinara froze. “It’s her.”

She sounded small and terrified, like that girl in the recordings. I ran my thumb over her hand, hoping to give her strength. I narrowed my eyes at her mother who was still all over her customer. Hatred burned in my veins.

Hatred and a hunger for revenge on Dinara’s behalf. I wished she’d ask me to handle the woman for her. I wouldn’t hesitate—pretending otherwise would have been a fucking lie. I wouldn’t even have qualms about it.

Eden kissed her customer one last time before he walked off, then her pleasant smile fell and she scowled at his back before she turned to the men at the bar with a seductive smile. She hadn’t noticed us.

“I need to go,” Dinara pressed out. “Now.”



She jerked to her feet, her eyes haunted. I stood, grabbed her hand and led her outside as fast as I could. I wasn’t sure if Eden saw us, and even if she did, would she even recognize Dinara?

Dinara was hyperventilating when I pushed her down into the passenger seat and squatted before her. I touched her thighs. “Hey. Look at me. I’m here. I can protect you.”

“I know,” she said between gasps and slowly her breathing calmed and her eyes really focused on my face. “But I need to protect myself. Instead I lose it as if I were still the little girl from back then. I should be strong but I’m not.” The despair in her voice and eyes cut me deeply.

“You are,” I said firmly. “But you have to give yourself time. You went from thinking your mother was dead to seeing her in flesh and blood. You need time to work things out.”

“Take me back to camp,” Dinara whispered. “I need to get out of Vegas.

I need—” She shook her head. “Just take me away.”

I leaned in and kissed her before I closed the door and got in behind the steering wheel. For the first time since I’d known Dinara she looked like the frightened child she didn’t want to be perceived as. I could see her struggle to be strong, but the girl from the videos, a shadow from the past, lingered in her eyes.



Dinara was awfully quiet on our drive back to camp. I couldn’t forget the haunted look in her eyes when she’d seen her mother. By now, her expression was controlled and her eyes closed off. This was almost worse than before because I didn’t know what was really going on inside of her.

After I parked the car at the edge of camp, neither of us moved. “You’re not thinking about running back to Chicago for good, are you?”