Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles 6)

“So ready,” Dinara said. I hit the gas and we shot out of the parking lot with a loud clattering. The kids had insisted we string a dozen cans to the exhaust pipe.

We let the windows down, turned up the music—“Highway to Hell”—which seemed like the perfect ironic touch to our day and raced through Vegas. Soon we left the city behind us to find a remote place for our first night together as a married couple. We had everything we needed to make it the perfect honeymoon. Each other, cans of macaroni and cheese for nostalgic reasons, and a six-pack of ice-cold beer.

Dinara sent me a challenging look, cocking one perfectly groomed red eyebrow in an exaggerated way.

One corner of my mouth twitched up and I mimicked her expression.

“I’ll kick your ass Falcone,” she called over the roar of the engines.

I answered by letting my car howl. “Not if I kick your ass first, Mrs. Falcone.”

Officially, Dinara was still a Mikhailov, but she’d soon realized that everyone considered her a Falcone in camp and in Vegas. Eventually, she’d stopped correcting them.

The pit girl raised the start flag. I tensed with eagerness, the thrill of the upcoming race rushing in my veins. This was the first race of the seven-day-circuit, and Dinara and I stood in the first row due to our excellent results so far.

When the pit girl dropped the flag, Dinara’s battle-cry-like laugh burst through the roar of the engines. I grinned as I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal.

My heart pounded, my pulse hammered in my veins, and I felt high on freedom and adrenaline. Dinara and I raced together for almost fifteen years now but we still relished every second of a race. Dinara tried to push me off the road when she cut in front of me in the first bend but I held against it. My smile widened. It was on. There was nothing better than a wife who could kick your ass in a race.

Dinara won the first day, but I was right behind her so we could spend the night in the same spot. It had become a beloved ritual.

“Did you wait for me?” I joked when I got out of my car.

Dinara snorted. “I’m not nostalgic!” She disappeared behind her trunk to relieve herself, and I hid behind an assortment of rocks to do the same.

Dinara scanned the horizon when I joined her a couple of minutes later. I kissed her plump lips. “They’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

“I know,” she said, but she didn’t stop searching the area. Finally, the outline of our huge motorhome appeared in the distance. It had its own shower and toilet, a kitchen, living area, and plenty of sleeping room.

The horn sounded a few times as usual before the motorhome pulled up beside our cars. The door on the driver’s side swung open and Aurora hopped out of the motorhome, her blond hair in a messy ponytail. “Roman refused to take a nap. He was too eager to watch the race,” she said with an apologetic expression.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “He can be as stubborn as his mother.”

Dinara sent me a warning look before she headed for the passenger side and climbed up to free Roman from his child seat. He wrapped his short legs around her waist as she came toward me. His dark hair was all over the place. It had grown in the last few weeks and fell into his eyes, but he hated having it cut so we just gave up. Maybe he’d eventually grow tired of it being so long.

“I’ll cook dinner,” Aurora called as she headed into the back of the motorhome. When our son was born four years ago, we’d wondered how we’d manage to keep racing. Dinara had paused for a year and just supported me, but then she’d missed it too much. The standard races weren’t a big problem. Dinara’s friend and former pit girl Kate could watch Roman during that time but the seven-day circuit was a bigger problem. Luckily Aurora, Fabiano’s and Leona’s daughter, was fascinated by racing and wanted to earn additional pocket money, so she played our babysitter for a few weeks during the summer holidays. This was the second year she helped us out after begging her father for over a year to allow her this job. I had to swear to him to protect her with my life, which I would have done anyway. Fabiano was like family, so Aurora was too.

I set up a small fire in front of the motorhome. Dinara and I sank down in front of it with Roman between us. He’d fallen asleep the moment he was reunited with us. No surprise considering that it was four in the morning. His nap and sleeping routine always got messed up during this week. Aurora carried our breakfast over to us. Hash browns, bacon and eggs sunny-side-up. She yawned and gave us an embarrassed smile.