Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles, #6)(61)

“I’ll be there to shake you out of it. If you really want to kill them, then I’ll make sure you can do it.”

“Fuck, we’re both twisted, you realize it, right?”

“I made my peace with it,” I said with an ironic smile. “Have you considered how you want to kill them? With a gun, quick and easy, or with a knife, more personal and given that you don’t have experience stabbing someone, more painful. You’ll probably need a few stabs to kill. Do you want to torture them in advance? Or do you have another death in mind?”

Dinara pressed her forehead against mine. “Maybe it’s a bad sign that none of what you just said freaked me out.”

“If me saying it would already freak you out, then we don’t have to hunt your abusers down.”



“Yeah…” Dinara breathed out slowly. “I think shooting our first victim would be best. That way I can get my first time over with quickly. I don’t think I could just shove a knife into someone, much less several times. Maybe I’ll consider it for the later kills.”

“I can show you how to do it. We could practice on the corpse of the first victim.”

Dinara laughed. “Now I’m a bit freaked out.”

“Bad enough to run away from me?” I murmured. In the past I’d always kept this part of me safely hidden, especially when I was around girls but even around my family. With Dinara, I felt as if I could finally reveal this twisted, morbid side of myself.

“Never,” she said firmly, nipping at my lower lip.

Eventually Dinara fell asleep in my arms and like so often before, she mumbled and twisted in her sleep. I brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, wondering if this path we’d embark on was the right choice for Dinara, if it would dispel her nightmares or only add new ones.





We left camp right after the next race. Adamo had printed out the list with the addresses of my abusers. I scanned the names but they didn’t mean anything to me. They’d never introduced themselves with their real names.

The names didn’t hold the horrors of the past, but I knew their faces would.

Even if they’d changed over the years, I’d recognize their eyes. Those always haunted me the most. The eagerness … the hunger…

Adamo and I checked into a shabby motel at the interstate right outside of Reno, a place more fitting for our journey than a nice hotel.

We’d only spend a night here before we’d finally set out to find the first person on our list tomorrow. My very first abuser. I stared up at the grayishwhite motel ceiling, listening to Adamo taking a shower.

It wouldn’t be difficult to find him. He owned a hardware store in Reno where he worked six days a week. He was known as a sex offender. Since a conviction shortly after he’d abused me and a few years in prison, he had lived a solidary life. No family living nearby and if Adamo’s contacts were right, no close friends either. Adamo had done plenty of research since he’d received the list. He was determined to help me. His own demons powered him. Demons even more blood-thirsty than mine.

Adamo emerged from the bathroom in a plume of steam with only a towel wrapped around his narrow waist. Usually the sight of his abs and muscled chest always got me in the mood but today my mind whirled with too many thoughts of what lay ahead.

“You cut your hair,” I said quietly. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded strange, as if I was lost in another dimension.

Adamo came toward me and perched on the edge of the bed. I touched his short hair, gone the curls I could sink my fingers into.

“It’s easier to clean up. Things might get messy soon.”

He meant bloody. Soon things would get bloody. “Is blood difficult to wash out of hair?” I asked hoarsely. “Maybe I should cut my hair too.”

“No, keep your hair. I love it.” His brows furrowed. “Are you worried about tomorrow? He won’t escape, and if I can’t restrain him, which I doubt, I can still call reinforcement.”

“I’m not worried about that. I saw you fight Dima. I know you can handle even a capable fighter. I’m worried about myself.”

Adamo stretched out beside me, cloaking me in his fresh herbal shower gel scent. The bed creaked under the additional weight. “How you’ll handle the situation?”

I nodded and pointed at the new gun on my nightstand. Adamo had gotten it for me. “I held it in my hand this morning and imagined pulling the trigger while looking into the asshole’s eyes. In my imagination it felt good, it was easy, just a twitch of my finger, nothing more.”

Adamo leaned close, his lips brushing my ear. “If you’re asking if it’ll be as easy in reality, then I have to say probably not. We won’t know until the

moment. Maybe you’ll pull the trigger without a second thought, or maybe you’ll realize you can’t follow through with our plan.” “I have to.”

I didn’t want Adamo to be my executioner. I couldn’t put that burden on anyone else. “It’s my revenge. I should do it. With you at my side, I can do it.”

Adamo’s dark eyes met mine. “We can stop at any point. We don’t have to finish every name on that list. This is about helping you cope with what happened, not make it worse. And if you need me to do it, I’ll handle them all for you.”