Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles 6)

The moment we entered our small motel room, I headed right into the bathroom and closed the door. I needed a few minutes to myself to process everything that had happened. As the hot water streamed down my body, I closed my eyes and let the tears I’d held back, stream down my face. For a long time, I didn’t move and with every passing moment, and every tear I shed, I felt a little lighter, as if the murder had lifted a weight of my shoulders. There still remained plenty of ballast on my soul, but it was a beginning.

After my shower, I chanced a glance at myself in the mirror. I’d missed a spot of dried blood near my temple. I reached for a towel and rubbed it away. My eyes were calm, not full of adrenaline or haunted, no sign that I’d killed a man in a blood-thirsty rage less than an hour ago. Turning away from my reflection, I stepped out of the bathroom, my hair still damp and only a towel around my body. Adamo was on the phone, nodding as he listened to what the person on the other end had to say. “All right, thanks. Good work.”

Adamo looked up and rose from the bed before he approached me. He cupped my cheeks in his warm palms, his eyes searching mine without saying a word for what felt like forever. I let him, found inner peace as I lost myself in his gaze. The brutal events of the day hadn’t left a trace in his eyes either. “You okay?”

I searched inside myself for a feeling of unease, of a deep unsettling sensation, but I was calm. I shook my head and pressed myself against Adamo. “I’m fine.”

“That’s good. The crew got rid of the body and cleaned every inch of the store. Nobody will suspect anything. It’ll take a while before anyone will notice he’s gone and hopefully the police will just think he moved away to avoid the rumors.”

I nodded, but my mind had already moved on from the man I’d killed to the next name on the list.

Adamo pulled back. “Let me take a shower, then we can talk some more.”

He headed into the bathroom but unlike me he didn’t close the door.

I stretched out on the bed and turned my phone on. I’d turned it off since yesterday to avoid calls from Dima and my father. As expected, my mailbox was overflowing with messages from both of them. As if Dad could sense my phone being turned on, he called again. Taking a deep breath, I picked up.

“Dinara, where the hell are you? Are you all right? Do you need help?”

The words were fired at me rapidly, making it difficult to understand them. “I’m fine. I don’t need help. I’m dealing with matters.”

“What kind of matters?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, Dad. Honestly. I’ll be back in Chicago soon. Just give me some time and space.”

The more time I spent with Adamo the less I wanted to return to Chicago. I felt out of place there, now more than ever, and while I missed Dima, he and I had moved apart over the last year.

“I have been giving you plenty of time and space recently. Few men in my position would allow their daughters to walk around in enemy territory. That’s where you still are, right?”

“Yes, but you know I’m not in danger.”

“Do I? You’re hunting the past and that’s never a good thing.”

“Nobody holds grudges better than you do, Dad, and nobody clings more stubbornly to the past. I get that from you.”

He made a displeased sound. “Dima should be at your side. You aren’t meant to be alone.”

“I’m not alone,” I said.

Dad scoffed. “You think a Falcone is going to protect you? Don’t make the mistake of becoming too friendly with them, Dinara. It’s a slippery slope.”

“What did Dima tell you?”

“I saw a video of you and the youngest Falcone dancing and kissing.” The last was said with blatant contempt.

Once I’d made sure the shower was still running, I said, “You don’t have to worry. There’s nothing between us. He’s a means to an end. Not more. He helps me get what I want.”

Guilt settled in the pit of my stomach for lying to my father like that, and for talking about Adamo as if he didn’t mean anything, when every day we were together, he captured more of my heart. I was glad that he couldn’t hear me talk like that. Even though, Adamo couldn’t talk Russian, I didn’t want him to be present when I spewed such hurtful lies.

“And what is that?”

“To kill the past.”

“Don’t let this man drag you into the dark.”

If anything, I was dragging Adamo into the dark. But even that didn’t ring quite true. It felt as if we were going this path as equals, hand in hand, driven by our demons. “Promise not to send Dima to get me, or I’ll dispose of my phone and you won’t be able to talk to me until I’m done.”