Twisted Cravings by Cora Reilly
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.
I lost my patience. “Nino said you and her got history. History how? I’m taking a guess that you didn’t fuck her at some point. You don’t fuck minors and I doubt you’d cheat on Fina.”
“Careful, Adamo.”
“Just spill the beans. I don’t have time to tear every answer out of you. I have a race to set up.”
“Then do it. I don’t see a problem.”
Oh, he didn’t?
“You want me to detain her and that guy with her? As leverage against the Bratva?”
We hadn’t been at open war with the Russians in Outfit territory. They weren’t our concern but the Bratva in Camorra territory definitely was. They’d attacked our restaurants, had killed the father and grandma of my brother Savio’s wife Gemma. He was the least vindictive of my older brothers, but he definitely held a huge grudge against the Bratva. Not to mention that Remo had declared war on Grigory for not helping him when the Outfit kidnapped me. Having a Bratva princess in our territory, especially participating in our races seemed like a particularly bad idea.
Remo was silent for a while. “No, let her stay. I see no harm in letting her drive in our races.”
“You see no harm? You sure Grigory will share your belief?” I muttered. If Dinara got hurt, or even killed in our races—even if deaths happened rarely—Grigory would raise hell.
Remo was keeping things from me. Again. Did he still think I couldn’t handle shit? Hadn’t I proved I wasn’t a goddamn pussy anymore since I’d returned from New York? These last three years, I’d done everything necessary to make the races in our territory even more profitable.
“I’m sure Grigory would interfere if he had concerns.”
“That’s what I’m fucking worried about, and I’m a bit confused why you aren’t, unless he didn’t give a fuck about his kid.”
“Oh, he gives a fuck, trust me.”
“Just stop the fucking games and tell me what the fuck happened?”
“You remember Eden?”
“That whore working in the Sugar Trap?” I’d never talked to her, much less touched her, but my friend with benefits C.J. had mentioned her a couple of times. They both sold their bodies for money.
“She’s Dinara’s mother. Ran off from Grigory with Dinara and eventually wound up in Vegas, asked for help to stay hidden from Grigory.”
“So what? You made a deal with Grigory and handed his daughter back to him on a silver platter and forced Eden to work as a prostitute to make her pay for kidnapping her own daughter? Savio once mentioned Grigory asked you to make her life hell.”
“You always think the worst of me.” His words dripped with sarcasm. My relationship with Remo had been bad for a while, especially in my early teenage years, but we’d gotten past that point, even if we still fought on occasion.
“Why did you get your hands dirty? Why didn’t you let Grigory handle her?”
He laughed darkly. “You think she would have met a kinder fate at his hands?”
“No, but I’m wondering why you’d take it upon yourself to have her punished.”
“I’m a sadistic, twisted bastard, remember?”
“Damn it, Remo. That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“So you’re saying I’m not sadistic and twisted?”
“You are but you always do things for a purpose.”
Remo didn’t say anything for a long time. “Keep an eye on her.”
“You think she’s trying to get closer to us to reconcile with her mother? Find out the truth about her past that you don’t want to share with me?”
“I’m sure the past is the reason why she’s there. As long as you keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn’t get herself, or you killed, we’re fine for now. Keep me updated.”
His dismissal rubbed me the wrong way. I was used to his cryptic words by now, but sometimes they still drove me up the wall.
“I’ll keep you updated, Capo.”
Remo chuckled. “You better do. How’s the racing business going?”
“Good. Didn’t Nino give you a report with the numbers? We’ve been growing these last couple of years, especially with the expanded qualifications races. But I don’t have time to chat now. I need to tell Dinara the good news.”
I hung up and my gaze returned to Dinara and Dima. Remo’s lack of worry regarding their sudden appearance worried me. He loved the provocation and thrill of a conflict, even now that he was a married man, maybe more so. Maybe he saw the appearance of the Russian princess as a perfect chance to bring some heat into our life. I, on the other hand, wanted to keep my racing business running smoothly. It was my baby, one in which I invested my heart and soul. I needed to find out why Dinara and Dima were really here and if they’d prove a problem. If they were, I’d make sure they’d leave our territory. Remo could figure out another way to make his life more interesting if torturing enemies and cage fights didn’t do it anymore.
Dinara still perched on the hood of her car, her red hair fluttering in the early evening breeze. Dima stood beside her with crossed arms, giving the surrounding racers suspicious looks. Not surprising given the looks they were giving Dinara. Some of them were only amused and derogative, others flirting or downright leering.
They thought she was a nice piece of ass who had no chance in the race and would be impressed by their racing skills. Some of these guys probably even thought they’d have a chance with her afterward.
Dinara pushed away from the car and stalked toward me, tossing her cigarette stub in her path and stomping it out. I smoked occasionally, but this girl was a chimney in comparison to me. I waited for her, pushing my phone back into my pocket. She was stunning with her high cheekbones, plump lips and long legs. The fire in her eyes and that confident smile curling her lips made her look like a fierce goddess, especially with that red hair flaming up in the sinking sun.
She stopped right in front of me. “And? Did we pass the inspection? Are we allowed to participate in your race circus?”
I smirked. “You’re allowed to participate in the qualification race today. If you make it into our racing camp that’s up to you and your driving skills.”
Dinara tilted her head. “I’m not worried about my driving skills, Falcone. What about yours? When was the last time you did a qualification race? You’re set in the main races, aren’t you?”
She had quite a mouth on her and bravado, I had to give it to her. Most people, even in the racing camp, either kissed the ground I walked on or tried to stay clear of my path from fear.
“I’m a part of the camp, because I’m one of the best drivers, Dinara. If I’d join the qualification race, that would only mean that fewer new drivers would get a chance to qualify.” The racers who participated in all the main races in the season were part of our racing camp, which was what the name promised: a camp where we all lived in the months of the races.
She leaned closer, giving me the chance to really admire the blue-green of her eyes, a shade I’d never seen. “Then why don’t you join the race today? Show off your amazing driving skills. Let’s see what you got, Falcone.”
I usually wasn’t easily baited but Dinara had me on her hook. I wanted to impress her, and I wanted to know why she was here. What her endgame was. “All right,” I said, grinning. “I’ll race today but don’t come crying to me afterward because your brother didn’t make the cut.”
“Dima’s a big boy. He can handle himself. Don’t underestimate him.”
“I don’t underestimate either of you. But you better not underestimate me either. I’m a Falcone, winning runs in my blood.”
“Arrogance too?”
I smiled. “I think you and I both don’t lack confidence when it comes to racing. Now let’s stop the chitchat and prove we aren’t just words.”
Dinara stood on her tiptoes, leaning even closer and bringing her lips close to my ear. “Yes, let’s do that, Adamo.”
She stepped back and turned around, walking away, giving me a perfect look at her ass in her tight pants. I ran a hand through my hair. She was a hot piece of ass, but I preferred less trouble in my sex life. Hooking up with grid girls or the rare racer girl had proven a hassle in the past, so I’d stopped reacting to advances. Business and pleasure better stayed separated.
I hadn’t participated in a qualification race in forever. Twenty-five drivers were set in the racing camp and five more could qualify to be part of it through a qualification race, but only the racers with the best positions throughout the year stayed in the camp for the next season. I was always among the best racers, had been for years, so qualifications hadn’t been necessary. Yet, I had to admit I felt a giddy kind of excitement about being part of a qualification again. The atmosphere was different, less dominated by money and bets, more free-spirited.
I grinned. This would be fun.
Dima’s face flashed with disapproval. His go-to mood lately. “We’re good to go,” I said.
“So, we got the official blessing of the Falcone clan?” he scoffed in Russian.
“Don’t know about their blessing but they don’t mind us racing. Or rather Remo Falcone doesn’t mind because he’s the one pulling the strings.”
“He’ll have his little brother keep taps on us. They have to suspect there’s more behind this than playing racers.”
“Of course, they do. I’m sure Adamo will do his best to extract information from me.”
Dima regarded me, gray eyes slanting to slits. “Don’t let his charm lower your guards.”
I burst out laughing. “What charm? Only because you have the sunny-boy persona of frozen bread doesn’t mean any guy capable of smiling is a Casanova on the hunt.”
Dima didn’t crack a smile. I bumped my shoulder against his. “Don’t worry. I can handle myself.”
“I know you can, but don’t underestimate the Falcones, not even the youngest. They don’t take it lightly if they’re being played, and out here we’re in their territory. Grigory would send the cavalry but it wouldn’t go over well with our men.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t conjure up ghosts, Dima. There won’t be a reason for the cavalry or any other rescue missions.” I kissed his cheek. “And I got you, don’t I?”
He sighed. “Just be careful. You know what your father will do if he finds out about this. One day he’s going to dump me in an oil-barrel.”
“He likes you too much for that. He’ll give you a quick end,”I said with a twisted smile.
Dima let out a sharp laugh. “Glad you find it funny.”
“Everything will be all right.”
“Eventually, you’ll have to put the past to rest, Dinara, or it’s going to swallow you.”
“It’s already chewed me half up. The only way I can put it to rest is to find the full truth. We both know my father was selective when he told me what happened.”
“He wants to protect you.”
“He can’t, nor can you. Nobody can. This is my fight.”
The roar of engines filled the air. I’d always loved speed. The thrill of it. Dima and I had raced against each other, bikes at first, later cars, but never on a professional level, or with as many competitors.
Adamo pulled up in his car beside mine, flashing me a confident smile.
Unlike most of the other guys, he didn’t look at me as if I was delusional for thinking I could race a car. Most of the girls who were part of the racing camp wore hotpants and lolled about on car hoods. Their only goal was to get in bed with a racer and better yet: become his official girlfriend.
One of these pit girls appeared on a podium off to the left with a start flag. Her hotpants didn’t even cover the underside of her ass cheeks, but I had to admit she could pull it off.
Dima came to a stop in his car to my right, sending me a warning look. “Don’t do anything stupid” was what his expression said. I rolled my eyes at him. We were here for a reason and nothing would stop me from reaching my goal.
My attention drifted over to my left where Adamo parked in his yellow BMW M4. His window was down and his muscled arm rested casually on his door. His eyes met mine and one corner of his mouth tipped up. My heart sped up and I narrowed my eyes at him, not liking my body’s reaction to the overconfident Falcone baby brother. But fuck, he looked all man, trouble and danger, how he lounged in his seat as if that was the place he was meant to be. His kingdom.
I revved the engine once, a challenge. I wasn’t easily intimidated. Adamo was a force to be reckoned with on the racetrack, but he wasn’t the only one who had speed in his veins. The sound of two dozen engines filled the silence, like a wolf pack growling in unison. Goose bumps rose on my skin and my fingers around the steering wheel tightened. I’d never been part of a race with more than a couple of drivers.
The pit girl raised a flag above her head, smiling daringly. Adamo nodded at me as if to say good luck.
I smirked. I didn’t need luck. I had skill, and the advantage of being underestimated by most of my opponents.
The second the pit girl dropped her arm with the flag, I slammed my foot down on the gas. Viper shot forward with a roar, dust rising up and hiding my surroundings from me. For several seconds I didn’t see my opponents or the street before me, only the impenetrable sand storm awakened by spinning tires. I steered the car straight ahead blindly, my foot on the gas not easing. Then finally the dust settled and my surroundings came into focus and with them, Adamo’s BMW which was a car length ahead of me. Dima was still on my right and another car had taken the spot where Adamo had been. We all drifted into the first bend in the road, but I barely reduced my speed, even as my car rammed into my unknown opponent. I sped up the second my car left the curve, my hands clutching the steering wheel to control Viper. Adamo was still ahead of me but I thought my risky maneuver had brought me closer.
My opponent on the left rammed my side, almost sending me flying off the road. Obviously payback. “Fuck you!” I raged. My foot on the gas became heavy from the force of the pressure I put down. Dima let himself fall back then slid over behind me and positioned himself behind my aggressive opponent. Then he drove into his trunk.
Grinning, I returned my focus to Adamo ahead of me. Dima would deal with the vengeful idiot.
I was slowly catching up to the BMW when Adamo suddenly slowed until we were hood to hood, and I could see his face. He grinned.
I cocked an eyebrow. A sharp curve lay ahead of us, much worse than the one before. Adamo raised his brows before he focused on the street and sped up again. The bastard had slowed to check on me. No matter how hard I jabbed my foot down on the gas, Adamo stayed half a car length in front of me. I entered the curve less than a second after him and my back tires broke out. I held on fast and carefully steered the wheel in the other direction before I sped up once more and catapulted Viper and me out of the dangerous bend. Four cars were only half a car length behind me, one of them Dima. We’d left most of the other racers behind, but only five of us would make it to the final race and I had a feeling Adamo wasn’t going to be on the losing side. He was too good and his car too damn fast.
Twenty seconds later, Adamo crossed the finish line first and I came in after him. I let out a battle cry. Pulling up beside Adamo’s parked car beside a makeshift winner’s rostrum, I let down my window. Adamo was already getting out of his car. The sinking sun had turned the sky into a fiery blaze behind him. He pulled out a cigarette packet from his jeans.
“Nice race, Falcone,” I shouted over the sound of the incoming race cars.
His lips twitched around the cigarette and he strode toward me. Again I couldn’t stop admiring his sun-kissed, strong forearms and the outline of his six-pack through his thin white T-shirt. As if he knew what I was thinking, his smile turned cocky. He held out the packet to me through my window and I gingerly snatched up a cigarette. Shoving the door open, I got out.
“You risked a lot,” Adamo said.
I shrugged, stepping closer to him. “Can you give me fire?” I put the cigarette in my mouth. Adamo leaned closer with the lighter, one of his hands protecting the flame from the breeze. Out of habit, because I always did it with Dima, I guided his hand with mine so the flame touched the tip of my cigarette. His hand was hot and strong beneath my palm. His eyes met mine and for a moment we were both frozen in the moment, in the realization of our sudden closeness. The second my tip kindled, I withdrew from Adamo and took a deep drag.
My eyes scanned the other cars, worried about Dima.
“He made it,” Adamo said as if my thought process was an open book to him. It was unsettling. “Fourth. But Kay won’t be happy with the way you two rammed him. He’ll file a complaint.”
I rolled my eyes. “This is illegal street racing. If he can’t stand the burn, he should stop playing with fire.”
Adamo chuckled and nodded. “His complaint will fall on deaf ears of course.”
“Because you want me in the final race,” I said, smiling challengingly.
“Because risky maneuvers raise the bets. And I have a feeling you’ll provide more reckless moves like today.”
“It’s all about the money, huh?” I leaned against my car, blowing out a plume of smoke. I was familiar with the business Adamo and his brothers dealt in. Money and power were all that mattered, but Adamo gave the impression that this was about more than that.
“The prize money for winning a main race is 25k. Winning the season, it’s 250k on top. Except for a few speed junkies with rich parents who never win anyway, every racer wants that prize money. But that’s not why you are here, Dinara, right?”
Considering that he and I both came from money, his derogatory words seemed hypocritical but I got what he meant. He searched my eyes, trying to dig deeper. I wondered what Remo had told him. Maybe half-truths like my father. If he knew everything, he wouldn’t look at me like this.
I smiled. “No, money isn’t what this is about. That’s what connects us.”
Dima advanced on us, expression hardening when he spotted Adamo beside me. “You risked too much,” he said in Russian.
“Some things are worth risking everything for,” I said in English, my eyes boring into Adamo’s.
Adamo inclined his head with a tight smile. “Congrats to you both for making the finals. Crank will send you the details of our camp so you can join us for the next race. If you don’t show up without a good excuse, you’ll be disqualified for the rest of the year.”
I nodded. “We’ll be there.”
Without another word, he turned around, heading toward the guy Crank, who’d registered us.
“He’s suspicious,”Dima murmured. “This could be a trap.”
I bit out a laugh. “You’re paranoid, Dima. There won’t be a trap for us. And I would have been disappointed if he weren’t suspicious. This makes for a more interesting game.”
Dima shook his head. “Don’t forget what’s at stake.”
I glowered. “Nobody knows what’s really at stake except for me.”
