Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles 2)

“I’m sure there are a couple of limbs you don’t need,” Remo added, exchanging a smirk with Nino.

Savio snorted. “If anything’s going on that pizza, it’s Adamo’s dick. He’s not using it anyway.”

Adamo flushed, glancing at me before scowling at his brother. They probably would have started fighting if I wasn’t there.

“It’s delicious. You don’t need to add limbs or other body parts, believe me,” I said before it got out of hand.

Nino shrugged and grabbed a piece then took a huge bite and gave a satisfied nod. “It’s edible.”

I huffed. Leaning back against the headrest, I curled my legs under me. Nino put his arm on the rest behind me. I scooted a bit closer to him until I was tucked against his side. His gray eyes paused on my face for a moment before he lowered his arm and put his hand on my hip.

“Why don’t you eat meat?” Remo asked, reclining against the backrest, on his second piece of my vegetarian pizza. He looked fairly relaxed.

“I like animals,” I said. I didn’t want to argue with them about animal cruelty in meat factories because I doubted they would understand; they tortured humans on a daily basis, after all.

“I like them too. Better than most humans,” Remo said with a shrug. “Doesn’t mean I don’t eat them.”

“I prefer them in sausage form,” Savio said with a grin, but he, too, ate a piece of my pizza and stretched out on the sofa, putting his bare feet on Adamo’s legs, who in turn wrinkled his nose.

“Great, now I have to smell your feet all evening.”

I couldn’t help laughing. Nino gave me a look, but I couldn’t read his expression. Remo, too, had his eyes on me, and for once he didn’t look pissed or furious, but he, too, made it difficult for me to gauge his emotions.

“How about we watch this fight now?” Remo said after a moment and turned up the volume.

I risked a look at the screen, where a massive man with arms as thick as my thighs was beating up his opponent before throwing him into the cage. I shivered at the rattling of the cage and the drunken cheers of the crowd.

Nino reached for my wrist, never taking his eyes off the screen, and I stifled a smile, which died when the giant grabbed his opponent and smashed him down on his knee. The man’s back gave a sickening crunch, and he fell to the ground motionless.

I flinched violently against Nino, and his arm tightened around me. “Is he … is he …?” I swallowed, my pulse racing. Nino brows drew together.

“Dead,” Remo said with a shrug.

My stomach turned violently.

“That was a spectacular move,” Savio commented, stuffing his face with another slice of pizza. How could he eat while a man died?

Nino tapped my wrist, drawing my attention to his face. “We can switch to one of the street races.”

I caught the look Remo sent Nino. He disagreed, and he was right.

“No. If I want to be part of this family, I better get used to watching this.”

Savio leaned back, a challenge in his eyes. “Then you should come to Roger’s Arena in two weeks. That’s when Nino’s got his next fight.”

“What?” I leveled my widened eyes at Nino.

“I haven’t fought in a while. It’s time.”

“That’s why we are watching this,” Remo added. “The huge fucker is his opponent.”

I stared at Nino in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. He broke someone’s back.”

“I will break his neck. That’s easier and has the same effect,” Nino drawled.

I reached for the beer bottle he still held in the hand that wasn’t busy checking my pulse and took a deep gulp. Then I began coughing from the horrible taste.

Nino gently pried the bottle from my hand, emptied it with one long sip, and set it back on the table.

“Women,” Savio muttered under his breath.

I put my head down on Nino’s shoulder and focused on his chest as the next fight played out on the screen. When I felt Nino’s hand on my ankle, I peered up at him, but his full attention was on the fight. All I could focus on were the small strokes of his fingers against my skin. The brothers began discussing strategies for Nino’s next fight as they watched the giant’s previous fights. Nino’s hand shifted again, sliding up to my outer thigh. I stilled, my breathing hitching in my throat. His warm, rough palm felt surprisingly good despite its proximity to more problematic areas, areas that held painful memories.

He didn’t move his hand, only rested it there, and I wasn’t even sure if he’d realized it or not because he was in an argument with Remo about whether it was best to kill fast or let the fight play out for a while to entertain the audience. Eventually, he must have noticed my stillness and lowered his gaze to me. He moved his thumb lightly over my skin, his eyes remaining on my face. Goose bumps flashed across my skin. He leaned down to my ear, whispering. “Fear?”