Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles 6)

I nodded. I’d heard those words often in the last few weeks. I looked at Remo Falcone and he met my gaze. I forced the smile all the customers liked and padded closer to him. My flip-flops smacked loudly in the silence.

At first, I hadn’t wanted to do it, but it had only made things worse. Mom had told me I needed to behave then things would be better and eventually I had done what they wanted. It still hurt but Mom felt better when I didn’t fight.

“She’ll do whatever you want,” Mom said.

My cheeks hurt from smiling. Remo didn’t look at me like the other men had. He didn’t tell me how pretty I was and what a good girl. Suddenly his expression shifted to something dangerous, something wild, and he looked away from me.

He stalked past me and grabbed Mom by the throat. Cody had done it before. It had bothered me in the beginning, but now I felt empty too often. I knew I shouldn’t be okay seeing Mom getting hurt but everything in me was hollow.

“Remo,” the other man said.

“Are you really trying to give me your daughter for a joyride? You think I tolerate disgusting shit like that in my territory?” His voice became a low hum. “I bet you’d even watch me fuck your kid? You despicable whore wouldn’t bat a fucking eye, as long as you get your drugs and are far away from Grigory.”

Mom blanched.

“Remo,” Nino said firmly, nodding in my direction.

“You really think that shit’s still going to damage her after the shit that’s been done to her?”

“Dad?” I asked. Mom never talked about him and if she did only to tell me bad things.

Remo’s eyes slanted over to me. His fingers still held Mom by the throat. Cody was crying in the background.

“Nino, take the kid upstairs, give her food and decent clothes while I handle this situation.”

Mom sent me a begging look. I didn’t react. Begging doesn’t work, Mom, don’t you remember?

Nino appeared before me and held out his hand. “Come on, Ekaterina.”

My eyes widened. I put my hand in his and followed him outside. Before the door closed, I heard Mom whimper. “Please don’t hand me to Grigory. You wouldn’t believe what he’d do to me.”

“Probably the same thing I’d do to fucking scum like yourself.”

Nino led me upstairs. He picked up a Coke for me at the bar then we headed into a room with a bed and bathroom. I took a hesitant sip from my Coke, then gave him the smile Mom had taught me. He shook his head. “No need for that ever again, Ekaterina. Your father will be here soon, then you’ll be safe.”

I nodded, even though I didn’t know what safe meant anymore. I remembered feeling safe distantly. I remembered lying in Dad’s arms as he read me Russian fairytales. Mom didn’t allow me to say anything in Russian.

“You can take a shower and I’ll ask one of the girls to bring you clothes.”

I nodded again. He nodded too. “You’re not going to run, are you? I don’t want to lock you in.”

“No,” I whispered. I didn’t want to run anymore. Ever since Mom had taken me with her, things had been bad. I wanted them to return to how they used to be.

He nodded, then he walked out.

I looked at the bed, remembering the bed I’d been in less than an hour ago. A bed in Cody’s basement. I shivered. The old man who’d been in it with me hadn’t come with us. Nino had stayed with him for a while before he’d joined us in the car.

The look in Nino’s eyes afterward had reminded me of the look that I sometimes saw in Dad’s eyes, or even Remo’s eyes just now.

I sank down on the bed and tugged at my white, frilly nightgown. They all loved frills and white. Wrapping my arms around my chest, I waited. I hated the silence. Usually, Mom always allowed me to watch whatever I wanted on TV after the men left, for as long as I wanted. Falling asleep before the TV was better than listening to my thoughts, to the voices of the men my memory kept repeating. Now nothing drowned out the words the old man had said. They replayed over and over again in my head. “Sweet little girl. Good girl. Give Daddy what he needs.”

I pressed my palms over my ears, but the voices didn’t stop.

The door opened and a woman came in. I kept my hands over my ears. She looked at me, her eyes big and sad, and put down a heap of clothes. “They’ll be too big on you. But better than what you’re wearing now, right?”

I blinked at her. She left again and the voice became even louder. I hummed but they were deep in my head, louder than my voice. I rocked back and forth, wanting out of my head, out of my body, away from the voices. I felt so tired. But if I closed my eyes now, faces would join the voices. My palms hurt and my ears rang but I pressed even harder, my nails scratching my scalp. “Stop,” I gasped. “Stop.”