Remo wasn’t answering his phone, so I called Nino.
“What’s the matter? You never call so shortly before a race unless it’s urgent.”
Of course, Nino was already ahead. “It is urgent. We might have a problem here. Two new racers. Fake ID. Russian origin. Dima Antonov and Dinara—”
“Mikhailov.”
I was used to Nino knowing everything so I wasn’t overly surprised. “You know her?”
Nino was silent for almost a minute, which meant this was really bad. “Talk to Remo. He can tell you more.”
“If he knows, you know. What’s the big secrecy about?”
“Dinara and Remo have history.”
“History, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dinara was younger than me, my age tops, so history couldn’t mean he’d fucked her, but that had been pretty much his only interest in the female species before he found his wife Serafina.
“Talk to Remo.”
“Isn’t he around? Why don’t you hand him the phone?”
“Give me a sec. He’s in the cage with Nevio.” My nephew was only six, almost seven, but Remo and he often trained in the cage, mainly to control Nevio’s outbursts and his hyperactivity.
Rustling sounded, then the line went quiet. I waited impatiently. It used to bother me a lot that my older brothers kept secrets from me, but now it mostly just annoyed me. Remo and Nino had gone through a lot together. They shared many secrets I’d never be privy on. Another rustling in the line, then Remo’s deep, out-of-breath voice. “Adamo, you want to talk?”
I doubted Nino hadn’t filled him in on what I wanted to talk about but by now I knew Remo’s games. I leaned against the wall, my eyes following the redhead through the broken window. “Two Russian racers joined the circuit today. Dima Antonov and Dinara Mikhailov. I’m wondering if it’s a coincidence that Dinara shares the same last name with the Pakhan of the Bratva in Chicago?”
Her eyes briefly met mine and again that challenging smile hit me, as if she knew what I was doing and whom I was talking to. She didn’t look worried at all. That either made her very brave or very reckless. The latter would explain why she was into illegal street racing.
“No coincidence, no. She’s his daughter.”
“His daughter?” I repeated in disbelief, mostly because Remo didn’t sound shocked by the news or even worried. I’d hoped for some distant relative. But his daughter?
Fuck.
“And what the fuck is she doing in our territory? Playing car racer? Don’t tell me this a coincidence.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Yeah, she registered with some fake ID. She and a Russian guy with her.”
“Probably her bodyguard. I doubt Grigory would allow her to walk around by herself.”
“You think the Pakhan knows his daughter is in our territory?”
“I think Grigory makes sure he knows about Dinara’s whereabouts at all time.”
“How about you tell me why she isn’t afraid to be in enemy territory? Why she revealed her name without batting an eyelash?”
Remo was silent on the other end. While Nino had done it to think things through, Remo probably only wanted to play with me.
I lost my patience. “Nino said you and her got history. History how? I’m taking a guess that you didn’t fuck her at some point. You don’t fuck minors and I doubt you’d cheat on Fina.”
“Careful, Adamo.”
“Just spill the beans. I don’t have time to tear every answer out of you. I have a race to set up.”
“Then do it. I don’t see a problem.”
Oh, he didn’t?
“You want me to detain her and that guy with her? As leverage against the Bratva?”
We hadn’t been at open war with the Russians in Outfit territory. They weren’t our concern but the Bratva in Camorra territory definitely was. They’d attacked our restaurants, had killed the father and grandma of my brother Savio’s wife Gemma. He was the least vindictive of my older brothers, but he definitely held a huge grudge against the Bratva. Not to mention that Remo had declared war on Grigory for not helping him when the Outfit kidnapped me. Having a Bratva princess in our territory, especially participating in our races seemed like a particularly bad idea.
Remo was silent for a while. “No, let her stay. I see no harm in letting her drive in our races.”
“You see no harm? You sure Grigory will share your belief?” I muttered. If Dinara got hurt, or even killed in our races—even if deaths happened rarely—Grigory would raise hell.
Remo was keeping things from me. Again. Did he still think I couldn’t handle shit? Hadn’t I proved I wasn’t a goddamn pussy anymore since I’d returned from New York? These last three years, I’d done everything necessary to make the races in our territory even more profitable.
“I’m sure Grigory would interfere if he had concerns.”
“That’s what I’m fucking worried about, and I’m a bit confused why you aren’t, unless he didn’t give a fuck about his kid.”