Twisted CravingsCora Reilly (The Camorra Chronicles #6) - Cora Reilly Page 0,8

what he meant. He searched my eyes, trying to dig deeper. I wondered what Remo had told him. Maybe half-truths like my father. If he knew everything, he wouldn’t look at me like this.

I smiled. “No, money isn’t what this is about. That’s what connects us.”

Dima advanced on us, expression hardening when he spotted Adamo beside me. “You risked too much,” he said in Russian.

“Some things are worth risking everything for,” I said in English, my eyes boring into Adamo’s.

Adamo inclined his head with a tight smile. “Congrats to you both for making the finals. Crank will send you the details of our camp so you can join us for the next race. If you don’t show up without a good excuse, you’ll be disqualified for the rest of the year.”

I nodded. “We’ll be there.”

Without another word, he turned around, heading toward the guy Crank, who’d registered us.

“He’s suspicious,” Dima murmured. “This could be a trap.”

I bit out a laugh. “You’re paranoid, Dima. There won’t be a trap for us. And I would have been disappointed if he weren’t suspicious. This makes for a more interesting game.”

Dima shook his head. “Don’t forget what’s at stake.”

I glowered. “Nobody knows what’s really at stake except for me.”

The first race of the season was scheduled almost two weeks after the qualification race where I’d met Dinara. We had forty races in total spread out over the year. Stepping out of my tent, I sucked in a deep breath of the still fresh desert air. Dozens of tents were set up around me, all of them circling a bonfire and barbecue area where the racers and pit girls gathered at night. Our camp always traveled from one starting point to the next. Many racers spent the entire year in our racer camp, their only home. Some compared it to the Burning Man festival, but the rivalry between some drivers made it less of a free-spirited and relaxed place.

It was the day before the race, the deadline when all drivers had to appear in camp. My eyes registered a neon-green Viper at the very edge of the camp. I stifled a sigh. Dinara was the last to show up and last night I’d worried she wouldn’t. I wasn’t even sure why I cared. Her presence meant trouble.

Our camp cook was flipping pancakes on a mobile gas stove and I grabbed a plate with a stack of steaming pancakes before I headed toward Dinara’s car.

I didn’t see her anywhere, only Dima who hunched over a cup of coffee, leaning against the hood of his car. I gave him a curt nod, which he barely returned. Stuffing a pancake into my mouth, I walked back to my tent. From the corner of my eye, a streak of familiar red caught my attention. Turning my head, I spotted Dinara. She came from the direction of the mobile showers one of our race workers transported on a truck from one camp stop to the next. Her hair hung in damp ringlets down her shoulders and she didn’t wear any makeup. A too-big Van Halen T-shirt was knotted above her belly and her jean shorts hung low on her hips, revealing a belly button piercing which made me want to discover the rest of her body to find out if there was more body jewelry hidden beneath her clothes.

Noticing my attention, she gave me a confident smile before she made a beeline for me.

Her black biker boots looked huge on her, as if they weren’t meant for delicate female feet, and no matter how much Dinara acted like a tough guy she looked delicate by the simple fact of her body’s measurements. “Are those your brother’s? Don’t you think sharing clothes takes sibling love a bit too far?”

Of course, I knew by now that Dima wasn’t Dinara’s brother but she had never really retracted on the original lie.

Dinara stalked toward me and perched on the hood of my car without asking. It was expected to ask another driver before you even touched his car, but she obviously didn’t care about the rules as she’d displayed before. Good thing I didn’t either.

I held out the plate with the stack of pancakes to her but she shook her head.

“Dima?” She pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

“Yep. The tall, lanky guy giving us the stink eye.”

Dinara didn’t look his way. “You still think he’s my brother?”

I leaned beside her, arms crossed, trying to look as if I didn’t care either way as

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