by Gina LaManna
Russo laughed. “I can honestly say I’ve never enjoyed a stakeout so much.”
“Me neither,” I said. “But don’t give yourself too much credit. I’m mostly talking about the cake.”
Still smiling, Russo gave a shake of his head and turned to look over me through the window. I sat in the passenger’s seat of his rental car while he’d reclined the driver’s seat and lounged accordingly.
Out my window and across the street sat the old Asian restaurant that Gayle had specified. As far as I knew, none of the players had arrived yet. I’d checked Asha’s messages—she’d basically confirmed what we already knew.
She said there’d been chatter on some of the internet forums about the poker game, confirming it was on for tonight. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to isolate specific people and connect them to their usernames yet, but it would only be a matter of time.
Jimmy and Frankie were already in place. They’d selected a spot a half a mile down the road. I hadn’t called Asha back, nor had I informed Jimmy of our plans to join the stakeout. As far as I knew, we were invisible to all.
“Are you sure you don’t want to give Jones a nod that we’re here?” Russo asked, glancing over his shoulder. “Won’t he be annoyed to find out you came to the stakeout and didn’t tell him?”
“Yes, and that’s exactly why I’m not telling him,” I said. “We’re not here on official business. I’m wearing a dress for crying out loud.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to say hello.”
“It would hurt,” I said. “It would pain me deeply.”
Russo gave a throaty chuckle. “I’m guessing that part isn’t about the case.”
“No,” I moaned. “He made me promise to take the night off and spend it with you.”
“Well, I think you’re doing just that,” Russo said. “We’re here together enjoying a fantastic dessert. You look fabulous and, like you said, you’re not on the clock. Check and check.”
“It doesn’t exactly spell romance.”
“I can fix that.” Russo heaped a piece of chocolate cake on his fork, one heavy with frosting. He leaned over, waited for me to part my lips, then slipped it inside.
I closed my eyes at the taste of the fine chocolate, light and airy, the frosting a perfectly sweet touch. “That is amazing.”
“We could’ve gone to a movie,” he pointed out. “But this is far more romantic. It’s like a drive-in, just without the screen. If we were in a movie theater, we couldn’t talk, couldn’t do this.”
I looked curiously at him, but I didn’t have time to process what he meant before he closed off the takeout box and tossed it lightly onto the backseat. His arm came up and around me, pulled me closer to him. We were making out like teenagers before I realized what had happened.
I gasped when we came up for air. “How dare you throw the cake around like that!”
He blinked, looked surprised. “All that time, and you were thinking about chocolate cake?”
I shrugged. “You know.”
“No, I don’t know.” He shook his head, confused. “I didn’t have room for any thoughts in my head while you kissed me, except for how good you taste. And smell. And kiss. You’re a great kisser.”
I brushed him off with a wave. “That’s because you’re a male. Women can multitask. I can kiss you and think about what I ate for breakfast if I really wanted.”
“Then I’m not doing my job right.” Russo flipped his seat up, shifted his position. “Let me try this again.”
His finger reached out, looped through the front of my dress. He pulled me close, and when our lips met, there was no room for any thoughts. We separated, and I blinked furiously.
“Okay, yeah,” I said. “That worked.”
Russo looked pleased with himself for all of one minute before he squinted over my shoulder and frowned. “A little too well, I guess. We’ve missed our first arrival.”
“What?” I whipped around. “Binoculars!”
Russo placed them in my outstretched hand. I pressed them to my eyes, but just as I got the license plate in focus, the taillights of the car disappeared around the corner of the restaurant.
Like Gayle had warned us, the parking lot appeared to be in the back, out of sight from prying eyes. It made sense; the group of people gathering for the game were of the cautious variety, and things like anonymity and discretion were highly valued qualities. Especially when it came to off-the-books poker games.
The restaurant itself was a one-level building. The telltale dragon signage out front flickered every few minutes with a hint of neon as it had for years. I’d never seen the sign fully lit, nor had I seen it completely dark. It was one of the quirks of the city.
The building and parking lot were nestled on a stretch of otherwise dark road. Woods crept up to the pavement on all sides, so the only visible part was the driveway and front entrance to the building. It could easily be assumed that the players would enter the restaurant through the back door.
I cursed under my breath. “I can’t believe I missed it.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Russo said with a huge grin. “You’re welcome.”
I rolled my eyes. “Did you see the make and model? It just looked dark to me. I didn’t get a good enough view.”
“I’ll bet you big money that Jones and Dunkirk weren’t making out when the vehicle pulled up,” Russo said. “If you gave your partner a call and said hello, he just might be able to tell you the details. In fact, I bet he’s sending Asha the license plate right now.”
The thought was tempting, but I’d gone this long without crumbling, and I couldn’t bring myself to take the plunge. I pushed it out of my mind for the next few minutes as a steady procession of vehicles pulled up the deserted road and into the parking lot.
I kept the binoculars plastered to my face and read off the makes, models, and plates to Russo as the parade of poker players made their way into the restaurant. There were seven cars in total. I didn’t recognize any of them, which wasn’t a huge surprise. I wasn’t sure what my dad was driving these days, nor was I sure what Ricci used regularly.
“Call her,” Russo said. “You want to know who’s in there? I bet Asha’s reading the names off to Jimmy now. They’ll find out sooner or later that you were here.”
“How?” I pressed. “I won’t say anything.”
Russo’s lips went thin. “I won’t either, but it looks like you might not have an option.”
I followed his gaze. Two dark figures appeared before the parking lot, keeping to the outskirts. Dipping in and out of the shadows of the trees. Another squint told me it was Jimmy and Frankie.
“What are they doing?” I hissed. “This is supposed to be a stakeout. They’re not supposed to be going in the building!”
“Maybe things changed.”
“They should have told me,” I barked. “Why was I not informed of the change in plans?”
“Probably because you’re supposed to be at my hotel with me,” Russo said with a distinct gleam in his eye. “And they were considerate enough not to interrupt.”
“This is big. I should be there with them.”
Russo looked alarmed. “You’re in a dress and heels.”
“Well, I’m not letting them do this alone.”
“You’re not armed, and as far as I can tell, you don’t have a badge on you. I think that’s a bad idea.”
“Fine,” I amended, throwing the car door open. “But if I can’t go inside, neither can they. I’m going to stop them.”
Russo sighed. “I’ll come with you.”
“No, stay.”
“You’d leave me alone with the chocolate cake?” Russo was already outside of the vehicle, making his way around to my side. He nudged me with an elbow. “That’s dangerous.”
If I stood around and argued, Jimmy and Frankie would be inside before I could stop them. And Russo was right—it wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had to go into a high-stakes poker game withou
t preparation. Or my gun.
I darted across the road without waiting for Russo. He caught up to me when I reached the grass on the other side. I kicked off my heels, looped them over my fingers, and picked up the pace. My feet made soft thumps against the hard ground.
Jimmy and Frankie were quicker than I expected, especially considering Jimmy’s size and penchant for fried chicken and hot dogs. The two men stopped at the rear parking lot and hovered on the edge of the curb, murmuring to one another in low voices as they scanned the cars in the lot.
“What are you doing?” I came up from behind them, my voice a fevered hiss. “You’re not supposed to go inside. This was a stakeout!”
Jimmy jerked forward as if having a heart attack. Dunkirk’s hand flew to his gun, his face white as a sheet as he turned to face me.
“What are you doing here, Rosetti?” Jimmy wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “You’re lucky Dunkirk didn’t shoot you, and I didn’t die from shock. You scared the living daylights out of me.”
“I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t have had to traipse barefoot across the grass if you’d stuck to the plan.” I studied both men, waited for their eyes to finish skimming me from head to toe. “Yes, I came from my date. You can stop staring anytime.”
“You mean, you brought your date with you.” Russo wasn’t breathing as heavily as me which was impressive after the amount of cake he’d downed. “Romance is in the air, alright.”
“Aw, naw. Really?” Jimmy smacked his lips with disappointment as Russo joined us. “I thought we had a deal, Rosetti.”
“We did have a deal,” I said. “You were supposed to sit through the stakeout and call me if plans changed.”
“I was going to call you. Tomorrow morning. You had the night off, detective. I wasn’t going to bother you.” Jimmy looked to Russo, shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry about this one, man. I tried to talk sense into that thick skull of hers.”
Russo just shrugged. “She doesn’t like to listen.”
“Tell me about it,” Jimmy said. “There was this one time—”
“Enough,” I said. “Not to mention, I’m right here. And nobody has explained to me why there’s been a change in plans.”
“We had Asha on the phone spitting back the identities belonging to the license plates,” Jimmy said. “We’ve got quite the crew in there. Joe Ricci and your father among them.”
The air chilled a few degrees.
“As it turns out, our girl Angel is inside too.”
“Hannah Trails?” I asked. “The Lady of Luxury?”
“Apparently she doubles as a dealer. I’m sure a lot of them do,” Jones said. “Nice side hustle to make an extra couple of grand. Might help explain why she’s so close with Ricci.”
“Anyone else I might know in there?”
“Mo and Stinky, and then two other guys—we’ve got their names, but I’ve never heard of them.”
Jimmy rattled the details off, but I hadn’t heard of them either. I shook my head. “So, why are you going in with only two guys? Is it really worth it to bust up the game and give your presence away?”
“We think so.” Jimmy looked to Dunkirk for confirmation. “Asha got inside the forum where these guys discuss where they’re meeting, when, that sort of thing. The rules are posted there. One of them is no weapons. It might be the safest time for us to have a word with Ricci.”
“And you just expect him to crumble and talk?” I asked. “I think we need to consider waiting. Following him after the game.”
“I respectfully disagree,” Jimmy said. “We’ve got to get in there now, shake these guys up a little. Let them know we’re watching each of ’em. Put them on edge, see if we can get one to crack under the pressure.”
“Give us a minute alone, will you?” Russo tugged on my arm, pulling me back from the other two men. He studied my face like an agent instead of a friend. “What aren’t you saying?”
“I just don’t think—”
“Jimmy’s got a solid point,” Russo said. “I think you know that, too. It’s a safe way to rattle their cages. You’re a bold moves sort of woman, detective. I’m surprised you’re not on board with the plan.”
I expelled a breath, scratched at my forehead to stall. “I really don’t want to go in there.”
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Russo said softly. “Your father.”
I pursed my lips, gave a short nod. “He warned me not to go in there.”
“Because it’s dangerous?” Russo asked. “Or because his buddies will think that he’s the one who’s been feeding you info? Not gonna lie, Kate—the latter is selfish on his part.”
“Those guys don’t talk to cops. Under any circumstances,” I said. “It’s their code. Even if they think he’s talking to me, it’ll ruin his friendships with his buddies.”
“I don’t mean this harshly,” Russo began, “but I’ve got to ask. Why do you care? You said it yourself—if he was involved, you wouldn’t have any trouble turning him in.”
“I’m not sure he is involved,” I said. “And I would be ruining a lot for him if not.”
“You got the actual tip from Gayle,” Russo said. “I’d think you could make that clear in there.”
“I could,” I agreed. “But that’s not the full truth. Plus, it’s about what the rest of those guys perceive to be the truth—not what I say. Even if I blame it on Gayle, even if Jones corroborates my story, that seed of doubt will have been planted. They’ll always wonder if it really was Gayle, or if that was a convenient excuse to cover up the fact that my dad spilled the beans on his friends.”
Russo merely watched me. His gaze felt surprisingly judgmental.
Finally, I shifted my weight from one foot to the next. “What aren’t you saying?”
“It’s not my place.” He brushed a hand through his hair. “I’m not on the case. I’m not involved in the slightest, except as your date. I’d like it to stay that way.”
Internally, I fumed. “You think Jimmy’s plan is a good one?”
“I certainly don’t think it’s a bad one. I’m just surprised you’re not considering it.”
“I considered it. I don’t like it.”
“Okay then.”
The reason for his hesitation suddenly came clear to me. “You think I’m going easy on these guys because my dad’s involved.”
“I didn’t say anything of the sort. I just wanted to make sure you’d considered all of your options.”
“I have, and I don’t want to go in there because...” I realized my voice had grown louder over the course of our conversation. I took a deep breath, started again. “Maybe you’re right.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I don’t want to go in there because it would expose my dad,” I said. “But if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t bat an eyelash about it.”
“That’s not true. In a sense, he’s like a CI. You don’t expose informants.”
“But he’s not an informant.” I shook my head. “Jones is right. We’ve got to go in there.”
“You’re not going in there,” Russo said. “You’re not armed.”
But I was already walking back toward the two men. “I’m coming with you.”
Jones looked over to Russo. “She doesn’t look like she has a gun on her.”
“She doesn’t,” Russo confirmed with a wink.
“I’ll stay behind you,” I told Jimmy. “I just want to be present when you talk to him.”
“Better idea,” Jones said. “You wait here with Russo. We’ll go in, shake down the room. Ask to have a few words with Ricci. You can join us then, once he’s separated from the pack.”
I agreed with his plan quickly, much to Jimmy’s surprise. Mostly because it had the added benefit of keeping me out of the main room while still letting me in on the important action. A plan that could help keep my identity—and my father’s trust with his friends—out of the limelight.
Jimmy and Dunkirk headed for the back door
. It looked like it’d been spray-painted black. Someone had added yellow striped markings. Another someone had drawn a face in red paint. To the average eye, the building looked truly abandoned.
“Don’t say it,” I said to Russo. “I know what you’re thinking.”
He obliged.
I, however, couldn’t seem to stop chattering. “I should be in there. You and I both know the reason I agreed so easily to Jimmy’s plan. I was protecting my dad’s reputation.”
“You don’t have a gun. You shouldn’t be rushing a poker game filled with potentially dangerous individuals.”
“But I could have followed behind,” I said. “Joined them for the shake down once they were sure there were no weapons. I belong in there.”
“Take a breath,” Russo said. “You’re not even supposed to be here at all. You’re supposed to be curled in bed next to me, sharing a chocolate cake and watching whatever crap movie they have on in the hotel room.”
The picture he painted was quite appealing, despite the adrenaline rushing through my body as I listened for any sound to come from inside the restaurant.
“That doesn’t sound all that bad,” I said. “Except for the part where there’s hardly any chocolate cake left. Not to mention, the stuff that is left has been tossed in the backseat. The frosting’s probably all slid off and mushed.”
Russo’s low laugh coursed through the trees. “I can rectify that. Ever heard of a thing called room service?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t be here at all,” I mused, bouncing my weight from one foot to the next. “Maybe I’d have been better off giving the case to Jimmy and Dunkirk. They can handle it.”
“You don’t just let cases go,” Russo said. “It’s not in your nature. Now take a breath, relax, and—”
A shriek came from inside the restaurant.
I gritted my teeth together. “What’s that about relaxing?”
Russo’s brow knitted in confusion. “Maybe we get a little closer.”
“A little closer?” I waited, listened. There were no more sounds. “I’m going in.”
Chapter 13