Follow the Money (Detective Kate Rosetti Mystery Book 3)

by Gina LaManna

  Jane had taken off half an hour before, leaving me alone in my misery. When I’d found her in her room, I’d felt the overwhelming urge to come clean to someone. To let her know about my contact with my dad. To explain to her that our view of our mother and father’s relationship was all wrong—that they had loved one another when they’d separated. And maybe they still did to this day.

  But Jane had been halfway out the door, rushing and already late for work. I had a date to get ready for with Russo. My resolve had crumbled, and I’d brushed her off saying we’d talk later.

  Now it was later, and I was thoroughly upset with my hairbrush. I was also glad I hadn’t said anything to Jane. I’d merely wanted to share my own burden, and my own guilt, with someone else. She didn’t need to get involved, not when she’s just gotten her own life back on track.

  She had a steady job, a steady boyfriend. I’d seen her perusing Zillow on her phone, probably browsing apartments when she thought I wasn’t looking. The last thing she needed was to be distracted by our father’s sudden resurgence into our lives—especially when his appearance was shrouded by a murder investigation.

  By the time a knock sounded on the door, I’d managed to wedge myself into a little black dress I’d borrowed from Jane. It wasn’t all that little, just littler than I was used to. There was a gently swooping neck that descended in a diagonal over my collar bone, ending in one lace sleeve. My other shoulder and arm remained bare.

  The dress was by far sexier than anything out of my own closet, but I figured I owed it to Russo to give everything I had to this date. The universe had sent me enough signs throughout the day. If I’d been looking for confirmation that going on this date with Russo was the right thing, I’d have to be an idiot not to notice. Between Jimmy, Melinda, Asha, my mother, Lassie, and even Jane, they’d all counseled me that if I blew off Russo, I would be a gigantic idiot.

  While I wanted to be protective of my heart, and my independence, I didn’t want to be a gigantic idiot. So, I squirted an extra spray of perfume on my chest and grabbed a clutch.

  I gave a sad little look at my gun and badge as I locked them up before snatching a pair of Jane’s shoes and jogging downstairs. I had the fleeting thought as I squished into my sister’s high heels that if Jane did move out, I’d be screwed when it came to eveningwear. Even if I couldn’t fix my hair, wearing the right dress had made me somewhat presentable. And as I went to open the door, my heart was thumping.

  The gorgeous spring day had cooled into a nippy evening. A cool breeze drifted over my bare shoulder and sent a shiver down my spine. My anticipation was at an all-time high as I met Russo’s gaze.

  Unlike the chill in my bones, there was a blaze in Russo’s eyes that set my skin to tingling. He rested a hand over his chest when I stepped into the light. He took a minute that felt like years to study my dress.

  “You look stunning.” When he finally spoke, his voice sounded hoarse. “I... Kate, wow. I mean, I knew you were beautiful, but this...”

  “I never pegged you for the speechless type,” I said with a wink, feeling the back of my neck flush.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but his approval warmed me in a visceral way. And when his arms reached for me, seemingly of their own accord, it felt natural to lean into him. His lips met mine in a gentle greeting, a kiss that sparked desire for more and left me wanting.

  He pulled away all too soon, his eyes twinkling as he lifted my arm up and spun me in a circle. He gave a whistle of approval.

  “Oh, come on,” I said. “It’s like you’ve never seen a female in a dress before.”

  “I’ve seen plenty of females in plenty of dresses, but I’ve never seen anything like you,” he said. “You are mesmerizing, Kate. You are easily the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.”

  The strange thing with Russo’s confession was that he seemed to truly believe what he was saying. He didn’t take his eyes off me, or his hand, for that matter, for most of the ride to the restaurant. And when we arrived, he seemed to shoot around the car like lightning, opening the door before the valet had a chance to reach for the handle.

  I barely noted the name of the restaurant. The air between us sizzled with anticipation. The light touches—his hand on my neck, back, thigh. A brush of a kiss against my cheek. The tickle of his thumb against my bare shoulder as he put an arm around me and scooted us closer together in a booth.

  When it came time to order, I murmured the first thing I could think of. I didn’t realize it was a salad until Russo playfully twirled a strand of my hair and gave me a confused look.

  “That’s it?”

  “What’s it?” I glanced down, found my finger on a bowl of lobster bisque. “I love soup,” I muttered. “I really love soup. They don’t have lobster bisque many places. You know, it’s really hard to find in a store—a grocery store, I mean. I only eat soup out of a can, and—”

  “I’ll do the salmon.” Russo handed our menus back to the server, putting me out of my mumbling misery. His eyes laughed gently with me, but his face was kind. “There’s no need to be nervous.”

  “Me? Nervous?”

  “The only time I’ve ever seen you eat less than me is...” He hesitated, running a finger over his lips as he thought. “Never. You wouldn’t even share a pizza with me the other night. I thought it would be romantic to share, but you apparently didn’t agree.”

  “I’m sorry,” I squeaked. “I was hungry.”

  “What about tonight?” Russo raised his eyebrows. “Are you maybe feeling a bit more romantic?”

  The server arrived with a basket of warm bread for us to share. I reached for it, tore off a piece, and dipped it in the saucer of olive oil.

  “There’s nothing wrong with admitting it,” Russo said. “We’re out on a date.”

  “Yeah, but we were partners first. We worked together solving crimes. You saw me when Wilkes...”

  Russo’s hand clasped against mine. “That’s the moment I knew I wanted more with you. I saw you there, on that bed, and it was like I couldn’t control myself. A part of me crumbled, a part of me flew into anger, and I didn’t care who else was there, what they saw or said. I wanted to kill Wilkes.”

  “Join the club.”

  “Not in the way you’re thinking. I wanted to go after him because he laid his hands on you; I couldn’t separate my feelings from the case anymore. While there’s an element to every case that becomes a little bit personal, this took on a whole new level for me. I couldn’t stand to see you in pain.”

  “I like you, Russo,” I admitted. “A lot. I’m not entirely sure how to make the transition from friends—or whatever we were—to whatever comes next.”

  Russo smiled. “That’s easy. You did a pretty good job of it last night. Shall I remind you?”

  Russo’s hand curled tighter around my exposed shoulder as he drew me to him. He reached for me with a kiss, and when we met, my nerves flowed from the tense spot in my back through him, magically evaporating. When we parted, I could finally smile.

  “Isn’t that better?” he teased. “Now, when you start to feel nervous, or scared, or unsure of where we’re headed next, just kiss me.”

  “Like that.” I snapped my fingers. “It’ll just solve everything?”

  “No, like this.”

  The next kiss was longer, lingering. An exploratory sort of kiss that put us clearly out of the friend zone and into this whatever-came-next stage. One hand crept up my thigh, the other traced circles over the bare skin of my back. His fingers looped into the hair near the nape of my neck and tugged tight.

  My body craved more, desired everything Russo had to give. I leaned into him, let his tongue slip between my lips as I heated from my very core. The intensity was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, and I highly suspected that if the server hadn’t appeared then and there with my piddly bowl of lobster bisque, clothes would have started disappearing like a magic trick.

  “Your soup looks good.” Russo cleared his th
roat and adjusted the collar on his shirt. “But I doubt it’ll be filling. Feel free to share my salmon if you’d like—there’s plenty.”

  I hid my own smile, pleased to see that I wasn’t the only one our kiss had affected. Russo took a bigger sip of wine than necessary—more of a gulp than a sip, really—and smoothed his hands over his thighs.

  He’d worn slacks and a shirt of such a pale-yellow color it could hardly be called pastel. I’d barely noticed his clothing choices before, but as I crumbled up some oyster crackers into my soup and studied him, I noted the difference from his normal attire.

  I’d mostly seen him in black suits and starched white shirts, along with the occasional slacks and white or black top. He’d struck me as a staples sort of guy, not veering from the simple colors. But this slight deviation to a softer shade looked good on him. He almost didn’t look like a fed. He looked like a handsome guy, out on a date with a woman.

  “Do I look like a cop to you?” I blurted. “I mean, tonight. Do I look like a cop?”

  “No,” he said, looking surprised. “Absolutely not. Then again, I don’t mind those stretchy little V-necks you like to wear on the job, so even if I said yes it wouldn’t be a complaint.”

  “Okay, good.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “I was just thinking that you don’t look like an FBI agent to me tonight. You look just like...” I considered him. “I don’t know. Jack.”

  “I am just Jack,” he said, a slight smile twisting his lips upward. “That’s all I’ve wanted you to see this entire time. I am the job, Kate—I understand how all-consuming it is. But there is a man underneath who existed before he joined the FBI, just like there is a woman behind the badge when I look at you.”

  As if on cue, my phone rang. I reached for it automatically, but at the last second, I clicked it to silent.

  Jack crooked one eyebrow. “You can take it if you like. I know you’re working a case this weekend.”

  “They can survive without me for one night.” I smiled. “What do you say about dessert?”

  Russo looked at his barely-touched salmon. “Shall we get it to go?”

  “I think that’s a brilliant choice.”

  I picked at my lobster bisque while we waited for the server to stop by our table. My lack of appetite surprised even me. While I was a little on edge about the progression of our date, I was also worried about the case. As much as I tried not to think about the silenced call, I’d seen Asha’s name on the screen, and my brain couldn’t help but drift to the message I was sure she’d left.

  Was it an update on Joe Ricci? My father? Something else entirely?

  “You’re preoccupied,” Russo said. “I asked if you’d like salmon, and you ignored me. And you’ve barely touched your soup.”

  “I’m not preoccupied.”

  “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

  “I’m not pretending.” I twirled my spoon, set it beside the bowl. “I’m trying really hard not to think about the case. That’s different.”

  “I appreciate the effort,” Russo said, “but you can talk to me about it.”

  My fingers reached for the spoon again to resume the twirling pattern, but Russo’s hand clasped mine. He gently extracted the utensil from my grasp and placed it back in the bowl.

  “Kate, I asked you to open up to me, not forget about work. I know who you are. You’re not the type of woman who finds joy in sitting idle, and there’s nothing wrong with that. If I dive into a relationship with you, I am well aware that some days—weeks, even maybe months—your job will be more important than me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Russo said. “The problem is that most people don’t understand it. They think it’ll change, that somehow, magically, you’ll devote less time to your work and more time to them. I don’t want you to change. I know going in what it will be like.”

  “But that sounds ridiculous.” I gave a dry laugh. “How are you okay with that? You just said you wouldn’t mind if I cared more about my job than about you.”

  “That’s not what I said. There are cycles with everything—life, love, work, the seasons...” Russo shrugged. “It can’t always be about me. So long as you come back to me at night. That’s all I ask.”

  “How broken am I?” I whispered. “It’s Rule 101 of every relationship academy that your partner is the most important thing in your life. And I can’t even promise that.”

  “You’re not broken,” Russo said. “You’re human. And believe it or not, every relationship has these cycles. When couples have a baby, it becomes about the baby. Sick parents, same thing. You just happen to have a job that requires a lot of mental, physical, and emotional intensity. It’s no wonder that it would leave you drained at the end of the day. Your space for a relationship is just smaller during those times.”

  “And you’re fine with it.”

  “I am.” Russo gave a thin smile. “In fact, I think I need someone, just like you do, who understands this career.”

  “Your first wife didn’t?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve said it before, I have no hard feelings toward her. But she expected me to change, and I couldn’t. I’m here, promising you that I don’t expect you to change.”

  “And what about the reverse?”

  “That’s part of the deal, too,” Russo admitted. “But I have the sneaking suspicion that you won’t ask me to change. You have already accepted me the way I am—federal agent and all.”

  I grinned. “That was the hardest hurtle to jump—the suit.”

  “Don’t I know it. What did you call me at Bellini’s the first time we met? A colossal pain in the...” Russo’s eyes narrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.”

  “You changed. Something changed. You were open, and now you’ve got that business look in your eyes again.”

  My lips twitched. “I guess you know me pretty well already.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “You mentioned Bellini’s, and I just got to thinking about it. The case, I mean.”

  “Have you made any progress?”

  I gave him a look. “Are you sure you want to discuss this over salmon?”

  “I’d love to discuss nothing more. I got a full twenty minutes of non-work related talk out of you. That’s probably all I’m going to get for one night.”

  I laughed, my hand finding its way onto Russo’s leg as we naturally shifted closer together. “I appreciate that you get me. I’ve never met anybody like you.”

  “And I’ve never met anyone like you,” Russo said, leaning in to gently brush a kiss over my forehead. “Hence the reason I was willing to fly across the country and sit in a hotel room all day for the sheer hope of having dinner with you.”

  I gave his leg a squeeze. Then I filled him in on the case, the day’s work, the calls from my father and Asha, and the elusive Joe Ricci. Finally, I mentioned the poker game.

  “Ah,” Russo said. “I can see why you’re distracted.”

  “I’m not. Not really,” I admitted. “Jimmy had a point. It’s nothing he can’t handle with Frankie Dunkirk. Plus, he’s got Asha on standby. I’d just be in the way.”

  “Now, neither of us believe that’s true,” Russo said. “I have an idea. How about we get our dessert to go like planned, and go sit outside an old Asian restaurant for an hour or two? It might make you feel better.”

  “No. Absolutely not. I can’t take you to a stakeout on our date.”

  “Why not? Ever since I found you and Gem sitting in that car on a stakeout outside of his house, I’ve been hankering for a stakeout with you.”

  “Dressed like this?”

  “It’ll be fun. A story for the future.”

  “But we’re supposed to have a glass of wine, a nightcap, I don’t know. What do people do these days after dinner on first dates?”

  “Movies?” Russo shrugged. “But I’m not interested in an
y films playing, and we wouldn’t get to talk. Maybe you’ll be forced to talk to me if we’re in a cramped car together. This could be a blessing in disguise.”

  “There’s also a chance one of us will fall asleep.”

  “I’m willing to take that risk.”

  “Jimmy would kill me,” I said. “So would Asha, and Melinda, and my mother, and—”

  “This is about me and you.” Russo gripped my hand. “Nobody else.”

  “I know that, but—”

  “Besides. I’d love to get dessert, take you back to the hotel room. Pour a bit of wine...” Russo dragged his fingers seductively down my neck, sending shivers to each and every extremity on my body. “But you already made Rule Number 3 very clear. And even if you hadn’t, I can’t be taking you to bed with a ruffled mind. An hour or two at the stakeout will ease your worries.”

  “And then what?”

  Russo shrugged. “Whatever you want. Denny’s pancakes are always great after a stakeout. Or that bottle of wine I have back at the hotel will still be chilling. You’ll be in your dress yet, and we could turn on a movie. Or, if you really wanted, I could drop you off at home.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  “I’m a man who says what I mean. If I didn’t want to go, I’d offer to drop you off. Period.”

  The server came around then, the same time my phone beeped with another message from Asha. My fingers physically itched to reach for the device and read the update.

  Russo put me out of my misery. He slid the phone closer and waved the dessert menu away.

  “We’ll take a slice of chocolate cake and one order of tiramisu,” Russo said. “To go. And the check, please.”

  Chapter 12

  Russo forked a piece of chocolate cake and popped it into his mouth. “So, is this the sort of thing that gets Kate Rosetti in the mood? Chocolate cake and a stakeout?”

  “What sort of mood are we talking about?” I reached for the other takeout box and sectioned off a piece of tiramisu. “Hunting down killers?”