Twisted CravingsCora Reilly (The Camorra Chronicles #6) - Cora Reilly Page 0,6

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,

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