Riddle Me This (Detective Kate Rosetti Mystery Book 2)

by Gina LaManna

  I bit my lip. A chill went down my spine. The honest truth was that Wilkes had already gotten into my place. My home no longer felt safe, secure. It wasn’t a haven, and neither was sleep. All of it was a constant nightmare.

  “That’s why you’re there, isn’t it?” Russo’s voice changed. It was soft, understanding. “You don’t want to be at home. He violated your space. I get it, Kate—I do. If you’d just let me help you—”

  “I’m good,” I said. “I’ve just got to take care of something.”

  I hung up before Russo could argue, but he’d left me with a hard truth to consider. Was my stakeout at Gem’s place tonight for him... or for me? Did I really think I’d catch Gem’s stalker sitting outside of his house, or was I just avoiding my own bed?

  I hunkered down in Gem’s car, flicked on the radio, and prepared for a long and blissfully sleep-free night.

  Chapter 17

  The knock on my window sent me flying into a startled panic.

  I had my gun pulled in the time it took me to recognize the face staring back at me through the glass. Shakily, I expelled a frustrated breath. I returned the gun to my side and clicked the door open.

  “Don’t you know that it’s a dangerous thing to startle a cop with a gun?” I growled. “What are you doing out here? It’s...” I checked the clock on the dashboard but found the display blank. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to sit outside in the middle of the night at—” Gem checked his watch—“three in the morning without the heat on?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous—I had the heat on. I just turned it off for a second.” I cranked the key in the ignition and, to my brutal dismay and intense embarrassment, heard the familiar scratching sound that told me the battery was dead.

  “But you left the radio on.”

  “That’s not super important right now,” I said, looking over at him. “What’s more important is if I can get a jump?”

  Gem grinned, his teeth glinting white against the moonlight. He’d pulled on jeans and a sweater, along with a light zip-up black jacket that made him look somewhere between special-ops and a Ralph Lauren ad. “The guards told me you fell asleep around midnight. I figured I’d give you a few hours to wake yourself up, but when it appeared you were comatose and the temps dropped to freezing, I figured I should come out and check on you.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “If I could just get a couple of cables, I’ll restart this beast and be out of your hair.”

  Gem raised a hand, crooked his finger. In seconds, one of his guards melted out of the shadows with one of those fancy suitcases with the ability to restart a battery. We waited patiently until he gave us a nod to start up the engine. When I did, the vehicle purred to life. The radio blared, and I quickly adjusted the dials to blast heat at the highest setting.

  “Well, then,” Gem said, “I should be going. Please, detective—keep the car running. I can put more gas in the tank, but I can’t reattach your fingers if they fall off from frostbite.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a shiver. “I, er—appreciate it. I don’t usually doze off like that.”

  “Why don’t I sit with you? You can sleep for a couple of hours. Or we can talk.”

  I began to shake my head, but I saw a look in Gem’s eyes that raised my curiosity. “Fine. Get in.”

  Once Gem had scooted inside and gotten comfortable in the passenger’s seat, he glanced my way. “I’m surprised you took me up on that.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Though, I’m not exactly in a chatty mood, so don’t count on me being good company.”

  “You’re always good company,” Gem said. “But tonight, you seem a little extra ruffled.”

  “Ruffled.”

  Gem scanned my face. “I think we need to talk.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Fine, I’ll go first.”

  “Well, that’s promising.”

  “I wasn’t born rich, you know.”

  My breath hitched. “You really don’t have to explain—”

  “I grew up mostly in an orphanage in England.”

  “I’m sorry about the searches. You really don’t have to do this.”

  “You’ll find out sooner or later. It isn’t private knowledge.” Gem’s eyes glittered as he turned his attention to me. “Most people just don’t take the time to look. Or ask. They take what’s in front of them as the way things have always been.”

  “I should have researched you more before I said anything.”

  “Oh, that’s not your fault. Being rich, you adapt to being in the public eye—like it or not.”

  “I can imagine.”

  Gem licked his lower lip, then turned his gaze back out the window. “My dad left when I was born. No clue where he is, who he is, if he’s even still alive.”

  “With your resources, it would only be a matter of time to track him down if you wanted—”

  “I don’t want to know,” he said shortly. “My mother was my family. She loved enough for two parents, enough for an entire slew of extended family. We didn’t have a lot, but that wasn’t important. She worked as a dishwasher at the local bar. We had a tiny little apartment—never owned our own space. Always wanted to, but she couldn’t make ends meet.”

  “She sounds like an incredible woman.”

  “She was. I was there when she died,” he said gruffly, his hand coming to rest on his forehead where he pinched as if to dispel any stray signs of emotion. “She was crossing a street, got hit by a car. She’d turned back because I stopped to tie my shoe.”

  I couldn’t help my hand as it reached for Gem. It landed on his leg, and I gave a gentle squeeze. It felt right, intimate but not romantic. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “I’ve always wondered, if I hadn’t stopped, would she—”

  “No,” I said, pulling my hand back and shaking my head. “Absolutely not. Accidents happen. It wasn’t your fault. And you were just a... how old were you?”

  “I turned six a week later.”

  I sucked in a painful breath. “I’m so sorry. But it’s not your fault.”

  “I know,” he said in a hollow voice that told me no matter what he knew in his head, what he felt in his heart was different. “The police told me the same thing. The driver hadn’t been paying attention—didn’t even apply the brakes. It was instant.”

  “That is so awful.”

  He cleared his throat. “That’s life. I was put into the system, stayed there until I could get myself out.”

  “What age was that?”

  “Which time?” Gem gave an amused smile to himself that was tinged with hurt. “The first time I ran away I was nine. There were a slew of other escape attempts, if you will. At thirteen, I lasted two weeks on the outside before they found me, dragged me back. Finally, when I left at sixteen, they just stopped chasing me.”

  “How did you survive?”

  “Odd jobs,” he said with a shrug. “If I was one thing at that age, it was resourceful. I followed in my mother’s footsteps—washed dishes, bussed tables, you name it.”

  “Where did you live?”

  “Here and there,” he said vaguely. “Sometimes the bar where I worked would let me stay on the benches, so long as I was gone by the time the employees arrived in the morning. Sometimes the waitresses would let me come home, stay with them for a few weeks. Then, there was Wes.”

  “Remington?”

  “The one and only.”

  “But—he doesn’t have an accent.”

  Gem gave a hoarse laugh. “No, his dad was transferred over on a job. Wes was in England from age fifteen to eighteen. We met when I tried to steal his dad’s car.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No, I was working as a valet and tried to just drive it away. They caught up with me after only a few blocks.”

  “But?”

  “But Wes thought it was hilarious,” Gem said. “He was at the party, bored out of his mind. After
I got myself out of the sticky situation with the cops, we spent the night drinking punch on the roof of the supply shed and swapping stories. We stayed in touch. Eventually, he started inviting me over.”

  “His dad was okay with that?”

  “His dad was gone a lot. I think his mother took pity on me. She fed me, gave me Wes’s clothes that he didn’t use. Helped keep me showered and shaved. I owe her a lot.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “She was everything,” Gem reiterated. “When I was eighteen, she gave me the last bit of money I needed to buy a one-way ticket to America. The rest is history.”

  “I doubt that. There’s a lot of story left going from a poor orphan to one of the richest men in the country.”

  “A story for another day.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this?”

  “You would have found out about it anyway.”

  “Right, so why not let me find out from Lassie?”

  “I didn’t say you’d find out from Lassie. She’s far more interested in the existence of naked photographs than of my business acumen.”

  “Yeah, well, she runs a gossip column.”

  “You would have dug yourself and found out.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t seem satisfied,” Gem observed. “What else would you like to know? Who I’ve dated? Do you really think my stalker is a scorned lover?”

  “I want to know why you’re opening up to me at all.”

  “Let me put it this way. I was hoping that it might help you understand me better.”

  “And that’s relevant to the case, how?”

  “It’s not.”

  I shifted in the seat. “Oh.”

  “You and me, I don’t think we’re all that different, detective.”

  “No? You have a plane, Gem. And a vehicle with six wheels. A staff that rivals Russia’s army.”

  A faint smile appeared on his face. “That’s exactly why I told you about my past. Where I’m from. Those are all things. Luxuries, perks I’ve earned from years of working hard, scraping my way up, and yes, a bit of luck. That’s different than me, than who I am. And for some reason, Detective Kate, I care what you think of me.”

  I swallowed, let my fingers tap nervously against the steering wheel. “Is that so?”

  “You said some things on the plane that made me think you don’t know the real me,” Gem said. “If you still aren’t interested in getting to know me, that’s fine. But I’d rather you hate the real me than some fictionalized, glamorized version of me.”

  “I don’t hate you, Gem. I never have.” I breathed deeply. “Believe it or not, I think you’re a pretty good guy. And you’ve helped me more times than I deserve.”

  “You do deserve it, Kate. And more.” Gem turned to face me, his hand coming to rest on the center console. “You deserve the best.”

  I was well aware his hand was inches from mine. His eyes landed on my lips, and he leaned inward. It had been a long time since I’d been involved romantically with a man, but I could tell when I was about to be kissed.

  My eyes blinked closed in anticipation. I leaned toward him.

  The crack against the window sent me flying back in the driver’s seat as I scrambled for my gun. It was the least graceful I’d ever been in my life.

  Gem was faster. He threw the door open with such force it squealed against its hinges. It was a miracle it didn’t fly off entirely. The car door hit a body, a dark figure who yelped in response as he flew backward.

  I recognized that yelp. With a groan, I leaned over the passenger’s seat, careful not to touch Gem in the process.

  “Russo?”

  “Ye-ah,” he grunted, pulling himself off the ground. “It’s me. Nice to see you, too.”

  “What were you thinking, startling us like that?”

  “I thought—” Russo rubbed his head where a lump was starting on his forehead.

  “You didn’t think,” Gem said. “I made the same mistake earlier tonight.”

  “But she didn’t open the door on your face,” Russo snapped. “I drove up to check on you, and there was a man sitting in the passenger’s seat of your car. I thought...”

  “Wilkes,” I said, my throat going dry. “You thought he’d found me, had come for a chat.”

  “I thought it was a valid possibility under the circumstances.”

  I looked over at Gem, then guiltily back to Russo. “Yeah, I can see how you might think that. Sorry about the forehead lump.”

  “Yes,” Gem said tersely. “Sorry about that.”

  “Hazard of working with Detective Rosetti,” Russo said dryly. “It’s hardly the first time she’s hit me in the face. Though, I now see there was nothing nefarious happening here, so I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Not necessary,” I said. “We were just finishing up our chat.”

  Gem raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t disagree. Russo looked between us, likely sensing a difference in opinion.

  “She’s right,” Gem said. “We were just discussing... a personal matter.”

  “It’s not any of my business,” Russo said. “I’ll call first next time.”

  “Russo,” I snapped.

  Gem turned to the agent. “Could you give us a second in private? Then she’s all yours.”

  Russo nodded, wincing with the movement. “I’ll be in the car. My car. The one with four wheels.”

  Gem closed the door, cocooning us in his vehicle as Russo limped back to his car. Gem watched him go, a touch of remorse on his face, combined with a hint of a smile.

  “Are you grinning at him?” I asked. “You almost concussed the man.”

  “It’s cute, you know.”

  “Which part? The lump on his head?”

  “How much he cares for you.” Gem turned a set of sparkling eyes on me. “He doesn’t know how to show it, and you don’t know how to accept it. Yet it’s there, clear as day.”

  “Okay, Dr. Phil.”

  “I wanted one more moment alone with you because I’d like to throw my hat into the ring.”

  “What ring are you talking about?”

  Gem reached for my hands, took them firmly but with a gentle touch. His eyes fixed on mine so I couldn’t look anywhere else. His face looked chiseled from stone under the moonlight though his eyes danced with playfulness.

  “If I haven’t been clear, let me spell it out for you,” Gem began, his gaze locked uncomfortably on mine. “I’m fascinated by you, detective. Not only for your beauty, which is quite undeniable—if I may be so forward. But because you intrigue me, you challenge me, you make me laugh. And if you ever feel yourself returning my affections, I’d love to take you out on a proper date.”

  “I—I don’t know what to say. Gem, that’s very sweet of you, but—”

  He leaned over, planted a lingering kiss on my cheek. His lips were soft, the scent of him overpowering. I closed my eyes as his hands tightened around mine, and we hovered next to one another. I wondered if he’d go further, and if he tried, if I’d let him. A part of me wanted to shift, to meet his lips with mine. The other part of me wanted to flee.

  “Don’t say anything.” Gem made the decision for both of us, pulling back with a complicated twist of his lips that somewhat resembled a smile. “Get some sleep, wrap up your cases. Think about it on a clearer mind. My offer doesn’t expire.”

  “It expires if you meet someone else.”

  “I suppose that’s true, but I hope you aren’t planning to wait that long to decide. I can be patient.”

  “There’s...” I was about to continue arguing, but the look in his eyes drove me to leave my thought unfinished. “Thank you, Gem. For tonight.”

  Gem threw the car door open and slid out with a soft smile. He stalled with the door open, his hands resting on the roof as he eased his head back inside.

  “Tonight was a gamble, detective. And you should also know that I don’t usually gamble.” His eyes sparked with energy. “I don’t play car
ds unless I know there’s a very good chance I could win.”

  Chapter 18

  It was several minutes before the rap came lightly on the passenger’s side window. This time, I didn’t pull my gun, but Russo flinched anyway when I turned to look in his direction.

  He opened the door, gestured toward the seat. “May I?”

  I gave a half-shrug. “Hasn’t seemed to stop anyone else. Better you than Wilkes.”

  “Not funny.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “According to the guards, you got a solid three hours of sleep,” Russo said with a thin smile. “Isn’t that like a power nap for you?”

  “It’s a full night’s sleep,” I deadpanned. “I just don’t feel like talking.”

  “Mmm.” Russo raised his eyebrows, then took a sniff of dismay.

  I realized he could probably still smell Gem’s cologne clinging to the seat. It made my insides squirm as I thought of our second near-kiss.

  “We had a thing to discuss,” I said. “A little case, and we got to chatting.”

  “You’re discussing a case with Gem?”

  “It’s complicated. And it’s nothing to do with Wilkes.”

  “Brine?”

  “Not him either.”

  “So, he’s that third case you so casually mentioned. The one that’s none of my business.”

  “You catch on fast.”

  “Care to share? I’m here to help if I can.”

  “It’s not the FBI’s jurisdiction.”

  “I didn’t mean the FBI would help—I meant me. For some reason, I get the feeling this particular favor isn’t on the books.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Russo said with a sigh. “You are difficult to keep track of. Even more difficult to protect.”

  “That’s why you should leave the protecting to me. I can handle it. In case you have a concussion, let me jog your memory: I’ve given you a black eye and a lump on the head without much effort on my part. And you’re a trained federal agent.”

  Russo grumbled some response I couldn’t quite decipher.