Bite the Bullet (Detective Kate Rosetti Mystery Book 4) Read online

  Bite the Bullet

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  BITE THE BULLET

  First edition. December 26, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Gina LaManna.

  Written by Gina LaManna.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Synopsis

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  EPILOGUE

  Synopsis

  Summer in the Twin Cities is hard to beat, and Detective Kate Rosetti is excited to show FBI Agent Jack Russo a nice, relaxing time while he’s back in town. Unfortunately, her plans go belly up when Tommy “Two-Toed” Bianchi is found floating facedown in Kate’s favorite lake.

  To complicate matters, Alastair Gem turns up with a brand-new girlfriend... which is all fine and dandy until his girlfriend goes missing. Gem begs the already-strapped-for-time detective for help, and Kate can’t refuse.

  Two murders, one kidnapper, and one boyfriend are a lot for the detective to handle. But if Kate doesn’t focus on finding the killer before time runs out, she’ll be the next victim in his deadly spree...

  Chapter 1

  “Okay, it’s official.” I sat back in my chair and glanced up at Russo, who was standing over a pan on the stove. “What sort of salary do I have to make so you can quit your job, move in with me, and become my personal chef?”

  Russo’s back stiffened for half a second. For an instant, I regretted my choice of words. But when Jack swiveled around to look at me, he was grinning.

  “There’s a lot to unpack in that sentence.” Jack waved the spatula in my direction. “I’m not sure where to start.”

  “How about the pancakes?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jack flipped a few pancakes onto a plate, then set it down on the table. He slid into the seat next to mine and scooted his chair closer. I resisted the initial urge to shift my own chair away from his.

  It wasn’t personal choice, per se, it was subconscious. Over years, decades, even, I’d grown to like, appreciate, and thrive by myself. Though I’d been dating Jack Russo for several months, I still had to catch myself time and again. I had to remind myself that these were normal parts of a relationship, that they were important to Jack. Important to me.

  If you’d told me at the beginning of the year that I would’ve forfeited space in my closet for an FBI agent’s suit, I would’ve thrown my head back and laughed. If someone told me I’d be splitting sandwiches and flying across the country for a man who cooked pancakes shirtless, I wouldn’t have believed them.

  But here I was, cozied in my kitchen with Jack for the third time since we’d started dating, and I was enjoying every second of it. And the blueberry pancakes, his specialty, seemed to get better and better. If this was what relationships were made of, well, it seemed I was getting used to it.

  “Have you been thinking about that?”

  I glanced up, my mouth full of pancake. I stalled, took a long moment to swallow, and studied Jack. “Thinking about what?”

  “What you just said.”

  “Remind me what I just said. I sort of forgot, seeing as it was coerced out of me by your pancake recipe. It’s deadly.”

  Jack chuckled, but the question in his eyes didn’t disappear. “Moving in together.”

  “Jack—”

  “Before you recoil, I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m not even asking you to move in.” Jack raised a hand in a stop sign, as if to slow my overreaction before it started. “I’m just curious.”

  “I mean, I guess I’ve thought about it. Vaguely. As in somewhere in the distant future. We haven’t been together that long.”

  “No.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Have you been thinking of it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s crossed my mind.”

  “But?”

  “Honestly, I’d probably have already asked you to move in with me except for the small issue that we live across the country from one another.”

  The pancake in my throat seemed sticky. “Really? The distance is the only thing holding you back?”

  “Don’t panic.” Russo gave me a smile that made his eyes glint with humor. “It’s a normal process when two people like one another. But don’t worry, I’m not pushing you into anything. I know you probably cried in the shower over giving up some closet space.”

  “I didn’t cry,” I said. “I don’t cry in the shower.”

  “You nearly had a heart attack just now when I asked if you’d ever thought of moving in together.”

  “I like what we’ve got going now. It hasn’t been that long,” I said. “You’ve been here a few times with me. I’ve been out to visit you once. It’s nice.”

  “It is nice, but it’s not permanent.”

  I scratched at my wrist. If I didn’t find a way out of this conversation soon, I might start developing a rash. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “Okay,” Russo said. “Fine by me. We can go back to enjoying our week. No more hard questions, I promise. Let’s revisit this idea of you retiring me to be your personal chef at a later date.”

  I gave a laugh. “Yeah, sure. I won’t be able to afford you unless I take that job with Gem.”

  “Gem offered you a job?”

  I cut my pancake into small pieces. “It was a joke, I’m sure.”

  “Mmm. Why do I find that hard to believe?”

  “He was joking,” I insisted, giving my fork a little wave as I poured more syrup over my pancakes. I was drowning the poor things. “He knows I would never leave my job. I am the job. What would I be without my badge?”

  “You’d be Kate Rosetti.” Russo leaned over, brushed hair back from my face.

  He pressed a kiss to my cheek while I struggled to focus on swallowing my current bite of pancake. I washed it down with a slug of coffee as he slid his hands around my back and began to rub my shoulders.

  “No offense, but I want to talk about Gem as much as you want to talk about commitment.” Russo straightened, came around behind me, and encircled me in a hug from behind. His kisses dragged down to my neck. “Though I do have an idea about dessert.”

  “But I’m not done—” I stopped talking as his hands slid down my sides, then began to work their way beneath my T-shirt.

  “Okay, I’m all done with my pancakes.” I stood. “Take me away, Chef.”

  Russo pulled me from the chair. Instead of leading me away from the table, he sat down in my chair, and then pulled me onto his lap. He relieved me of my shirt, then let his hands work a little magic on my bare skin. I shivered, leaning against him.

  “You taste like syrup.” He grinned. “Sweet.”

  “First time anyone’s ever called me sweet.”

  Russo’s hand reached for my chin, tipped it down. His eyes locked on mine, tender and firm, with an underlying layer of seriousness. “Their loss.”

  Then he kissed me hard, and his hands slid around to my lower back. He held me ag
ainst him, deepened the kiss yet again, then worked a bit more magic with the rest of my clothes until pancakes and Alastair Gem were the last things on my mind.

  “YOU’RE GOOD AT THAT.”

  Russo stepped out of the shower first, leaving me under the stream of water alone. He turned back and winked as I sudsed up my hair.

  “Thank you,” he said. “That’s a high compliment.”

  “Not that.” I felt my face heat beneath the already hot water. “I meant changing the subject. Just when we start talking about something dangerous, you go and... make me forget it all.”

  “Are you complaining?” Russo drew the shower curtain and disappeared behind it. “I thought you’d appreciate my diversion tactics.”

  “No complaints here,” I said. “I just mean... you’re good at keeping the peace. At handling me.”

  “Handling you?” The curtain slid back again as Russo poked his head back into the shower for another peek. “This isn’t handling you, Kate. This is just being with you. Caring about you.”

  “No need to get all mushy.” I smiled at Jack as I rinsed my hair out. At his expression, I leaned back and turned the water off, then wrapped a towel around my body and stepped out. “This is my way of telling you thanks, Jack. There aren’t many people who could stand to be with me. I-I know I can be difficult. I guess I’m just surprised things have been going so well.”

  Russo’s towel was around his waist. He pulled me against him in a squeeze. His chest was still warm from the shower, and the skin against skin felt nice. Comfortable. He kissed my forehead.

  “You can stop being surprised. I know who I fell in love with,” Russo said. “None of this is a surprise to me. You not wanting to move in, you being shocked that I’m still here—I expected it. And guess what? I’m still here, and I plan to be for a long time. So, get used to it.”

  He gave my butt a playful smack as he stepped back. Opening the bathroom door, he let himself out and went to my room. Thankfully, my sister had evacuated the premises for the week to spend time with her boyfriend. But I wasn’t worried about that. I was worried about the fact that Jack had used the word love.

  I closed the bathroom door behind Jack and took my time applying lotion. I even dug in the medicine cabinet and found a few extra eye creams and face moisturizers that Jane had left sprinkled around the house. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to impress Russo with my newly moisturized skin, or if I was stalling to avoid seeing him just yet.

  Love? It had been mere months. Sure, he’d tossed it out haphazardly, almost as if he hadn’t known he’d said it. But Jack wasn’t the type to make mistakes. He was an FBI agent, one of the best, and his attention to detail was second to none. So, had he meant it? Had he intended to say it, or had it been a slip of the tongue? And what did that mean for us?

  My heart fluttered, and not in the good, butterflies-flapping-their-wings sort of way. More of a heart-palpitation, am-I-dying sort of way. It wasn’t because I didn’t like Jack, either, nor was I upset that he’d dropped the L-bomb on me unsuspectingly. It was because that meant I had to diagnose how I felt about him in return, so I could be ready if he said it again. What would I say back? Did I love Jack? Was I ready to say so? And if I wasn’t, how badly would that hurt Jack?

  My phone rang, shattering my thoughts. I was so startled, I dropped a heavy bottle of lotion onto my toe, and I cursed as I picked it up. The phone continued to ring. I was even more relieved when I saw the number was from the station.

  “Everything okay in there?” Russo tapped on the door. “You didn’t fall and knock yourself out, did you?”

  “Just fine,” I said, then I swiped to answer on my phone. “Rosetti.”

  “Hey, we’ve got a floater,” the voice said on the other end. “The chief wants you at the scene. Round Lake, near the boat launch. Just next to Phalen.”

  “I know where it is,” I said. “Give me twenty minutes.”

  I pulled the door open and inhaled a sharp gasp. Russo was standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his body. He pierced me with a stern gaze.

  I gave a guilty shrug of my shoulders. “So, I assume you heard the phone call?”

  “Enough of it.”

  “Is this the part where you get mad?”

  The serious look crumbled as Jack gave a smile. “No, of course not. You caught a case?”

  “There’s a floater not too far from here. I don’t know why, but the chief wants me to stop by. I’m hoping it’ll be quick.”

  “No problem. I knew you had to work.” Jack pecked me on the forehead. “Call me when you know more?”

  I nodded. “Please feel free to make yourself at home. I will do my best to get back here ASAP—”

  “Go. I can take care of myself. I know my way around your kitchen better than you do.”

  “Touché.” I leaned up on my tiptoes and gave him a kiss in return. “I’ll see you soon. Thank you for understanding.”

  I dressed in my typical uniform of dark jeans, heeled boots, and a black tank top. I threw on a blazer, a gun and my badge, and said goodbye to Russo once more. He was already set up at the kitchen table with a fresh cup of coffee and his computer. The benefit of dating someone who worked as much as me.

  Russo slid a to-go mug of coffee in my direction. I’d never seen it before, and I asked him where he got it.

  “It’s amazing the things you can find if you open your cupboards,” Russo said dryly. “Talk to you soon, Detective.”

  I took the coffee and made my way outside. June was just warming up, kicking off summer in a real way. The lilacs had already faded, along with the tulips and crocuses. The first of the daisies were pushing up, spreading pretty white petals around yellow centers. The trees had all leafed out, giving a full, fresh look to the city.

  Once in my car, I turned in the direction of St. Paul’s East side. Twenty minutes, I was at the small, local lake in the heart of the city. I pulled the cup of coffee from the cupholder and was surprised to find I’d consumed most of it on the way over. Something about the way Russo made coffee was one million times better than the way I made it.

  Possibly it was because he didn’t use expired beans. Or maybe it was because he’d found a coffee grinder and ground the beans himself. Or the fact that he didn’t substitute filters with toilet paper in a pinch. If Jack and I ever split up, I’d most certainly miss his coffee-making abilities. Could someone love a man because he was a great cook? Was that enough of a reason to tell a partner “I love you”?

  “Earth to Rosetti.”

  My partner, Detective Jimmy Jones, was studying me when I finally looked up from my coffee cup. His eyebrows shot up.

  “What’s in the coffee?” he asked. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said and cleared my throat. “What do we have here?”

  Jimmy made a funny noise in his throat. “I’m a detective, Rosetti. Don’t try to fool me. Something’s eating you.”

  “Nothing that’s any of your business.”

  “Sure thing.” Jimmy gave an eye-roll. “You know, it’d be easier if you just told me what was bothering you instead of making me guess.”

  “Jimmy.”

  He heaved a sigh. “Tommy Two-Toed Bianchi took a swim with the fishies early this morning, according to Melinda.”

  “Ah. I know Tommy. Well, I know of him. My dad knew him back in the day. Told me the story of how he got the nickname.”

  “How’d that story go?”

  “Not as intimidating as you’d think,” I said with a shrug. “He mowed the lawn with sandals. To this day, I never start up the lawnmower without tennis shoes.”

  “Sounds like your dad knew how to scare you into behaving.”

  “Tell me about it. Going to prison was sort of the icing on the cake.”

  He gave a dry laugh. “Guess you could say that. Anyway, I don’t suppose you know what Tommy was up to these days?”

  “There’s a slew of Bianchi’s on the East Side. They’re close with t
he Bellini clan. Most of them are wrapped up in the family business if you know what I mean. A few of them went straight. I didn’t know Tommy personally, but I’m guessing he was not one of them from the stories I’ve heard.”

  “Ah.”

  “I’m gonna go check with Melinda on the rest,” I said. “Have you talked to her already?”

  He nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll find out what else the techs found. They’re looking at the parking lot for tire tracks or anything else left behind.”

  I made my way to the boat dock, which was as simple as several slabs of wood laid out parallel, descending into the water. The body had already been pulled from the water, and she was examining Tommy on the beach.

  Melinda took one look at me. “Coffee mug I’ve never seen before. Real coffee, made from home. You didn’t go to your mother’s shop this morning... Did Jack get into town last night?”

  “And here I thought I was the detective,” I said. Then, “Yes, he did.”

  She gave me a knowing smile. “No wonder you’re so cheery this morning.”

  I gave her a frown. “Not exactly, but we’ll get into that later. Tell me about Tommy. Looks like he got one to the forehead.”

  “He sure did,” Melinda said. “One bullet, straight through the forehead. Execution style.”

  “Mob hit? Work related?”

  “It’s possible...”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “I’m not.” She pointed to a pile of garbage. “And that’s why.”

  “That is... interesting.”

  At the point where the beach met the water was a pile of trash, most of it food related. I moved closer, squatted and surveyed the mess of Twinkie wrappers, Cosmic Brownie boxes, and Little Debbies, some of them still in their packaging. It looked like an entire twelve pack of Cokes had been emptied and crumpled, floating ashore next to our vic. Several beer bottles and cans were in the mix.

  I gloved up, then reached for a box that had once contained a cheap, pre-made, entirely awful-for-you apple pie. “I haven’t seen these in ages. We used to get them for a quarter from the Hostess store, which has since closed.”