The Rome Affair

by Addison Fox

  “Isn’t it the middle of the night in New York?”

  “The Steele family isn’t known for outstanding sleep habits. Add on he was still mad at me for not calling him back earlier despite a text that said I was going to bed, and I got an earful. He’s now gone from concerned to highly concerned and threatening to tell my grandfather.”

  “Maybe he’s right.”

  Kensington stilled, his words doing more to effectively silence her than anything else could have. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m serious. I know neither of us expected a cakewalk, but this job is more dangerous than either of us anticipated.”

  “I’m up to the task.”

  “It’s too much. There’s too much risk.”

  She tamped down on the urge to rant and rail, just as she had on the call with Campbell. Yelling got you nowhere and it was an immature reaction to a situation that only served to put the other person on the defensive.

  That’s what she told herself.

  Even as the words spilled from her lips like bullets. “Why the hell do you think this is too much? Are you saying you want me to walk away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Think again.”

  “This is my job, Kensington.”

  “Which you’ve formally subcontracted me on, which makes it my job, too. Don’t get cold feet now.”

  The statement was so absurd—odd, really—but what was even more odd was the image that filled her mind’s eye of the two of them standing inside the jeweler earlier that week, a large diamond winking off her hand.

  Trained operatives didn’t get cold feet.

  But those in relationships did...

  “This is because of earlier, isn’t it? Because of what almost happened between us?”

  “No. Not really.”

  A small tick quivered at the corner of his eyelid and she pressed her point. “Well, what is it, Jack? No? Or not really?”

  “You’re in danger. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

  “That’s the risk we take. The risk we both take each and every day based on what we’ve chosen to do with our lives.”

  “But I brought you here.”

  “And I chose to accept the challenge.”

  “Why are you being so stubborn?”

  “Pots and kettles.” She nearly added the oldie but goodie “if the shoe fits” but stopped at the last minute at the bleak look that rode his dark gaze.

  “I’m going to be fine, Jack. We both are. You brought me in on this for a reason. Trust that.”

  “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s the situation.”

  “We’re partners. We’ve got each other’s backs. I’ve got yours and I have every confidence you’ve got mine.”

  Somewhere down deep she knew the argument wasn’t finished but opted for a hasty retreat when Dante gestured them once more over toward the body.

  And even though she knew she was right, she couldn’t dismiss the small shot of alarm that slithered down her skin when she turned around and saw Jack standing in the vineyard all alone.

  * * *

  Kensington evaluated her wardrobe once more as she towel-dried her hair. The rest of the morning had gone about as well as expected—which meant she and Jack had gone to their separate corners when they returned to the B and B and hadn’t spoken since—and she was anxious to get on to Pryce’s castello.

  The sooner they got to the bottom of what was going on, the sooner they could wrap things up and leave.

  Another ending.

  Why did it feel like her life was full of them?

  She normally resisted anything that smacked of mawkish or maudlin, so it was with some surprise when she sat down hard on the edge of the bed, a silk blouse clutched in her hands like a lifeline.

  When had everything gotten so complicated?

  At its core, she knew the fact she harbored feelings for Jack contributed to her confusion, but if she were honest with herself, that wasn’t the entire problem. Although intense, that attraction to Jack was relatively new.

  The ennui and sense of dissatisfaction, however...well, they’d been hovering around her like a blanket for the past few years.

  The distinctive ring of her phone—a rousing rendition of the William Tell Orchestra Rowan had programmed on all their phones to signal Liam’s call—effectively interrupted her thoughts. It never failed to make her smile that Rowan had tied their older brother to the song best known for the Lone Ranger.

  “Liam. Isn’t it the middle of the night?”

  “Hello to you, too.” The cultured baritone of his voice that so reminded her of their father helped banish the last of her scattered thoughts. “And I’m in London right now.”

  “On what?” She flipped through the mental Rolodex of jobs they had going and puzzled at his location.

  “A date.”

  “Oh.”

  “Which is only the side benefit of the trip. Finn has a few job leads I’m investigating.”

  Rowan’s future husband had been the source of several strong leads in the past few months and they were nearly to the point of needing to turn down business. It was a funny—and fortunate—position to be in. “Well, don’t let me keep you from the latest vapid model-slash-actress who’s likely waiting for you.”

  “My latest model-slash-actress is a lovely young woman named Gemma. And she can wait until I find out why you were spending your early morning hours with a dead body.”

  Damn Campbell. “Good news travels fast.”

  “Fill me in.”

  It was pointless to argue, so she ran Liam through the details of the job—her impressions, thoughts and questions—and was grateful for her brother’s steady presence.

  “Someone’s working behind the scenes.”

  “Jack and I think so, too. The Italian government’s convinced it’s Pryce. That’s why they have us investigating him, gathering enough evidence so they can swoop in and effectively end the smuggling.”

  “And then remove him from the position.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t like that you and Jack are doing their dirty work.”

  “For a fee, Liam.”

  A low, barely muttered curse was all she heard before he pressed on. “Not everything needs to come down to money.”

  “No, but we did make a decision to help people for a fee. That’s what I’m doing.”

  “All while offering the Italian government a convenient excuse and the ability to publicly deny any involvement. If the government’s wrong, you and Jack take the blame.”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “So what’s the upside?”

  “Contacts with another government. The opportunity to work with another colleague. And the satisfaction of a job well-done. We don’t take the easy jobs.”

  “Yeah, but when did they get this hard?”

  Her brother’s words hung there for a moment and she pulled herself from the case she was currently working on. “Is everything okay? Why are you really in London?”

  “I told you. I’m relaxing. Mixing a bit of business with pleasure.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Why would there be anything else?”

  “You tell me.”

  “There’s nothing to tell except this—watch your back. Andrews has a great reputation but he’s an independent. Hell, the man doesn’t even have employees—just contracts with a bunch of freelancers for his jobs.”

  “What’s his business model have to do with anything?” As arguments went it was weak—and she wasn’t sure why she was defending Jack—but good old-fashioned sibling rivalry prevented her from taking too much advice from her brother.

  “He’s a lone wol
f and he’s made quite a career on that. Don’t get caught up.”

  “This coming from the proverbial lone wolf of our family.”

  She heard the smile through the phone before the whip-quick response. “Takes one to know one.”

  The heavy knock on the door pulled her attention. “I need to go.”

  “Be careful, Kenzi.”

  “You, too.”

  She disconnected and couldn’t help staring at the phone for the briefest moment. Her brother had always been private, but that had only intensified of late. Was he burning out? He’d had several intense jobs over the past year and this wasn’t the first time she’d begun to suspect they were taking a harder toll than any of them had expected.

  The heavy knock came again, followed by Jack’s urgent voice.

  “Kensington. Let me in.”

  She filed away thoughts of Liam, promising herself she’d revisit them when she got home and actually saw him face-to-face, and dragged open the heavy door. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why were you banging on the door?”

  “Would you have preferred a telegram?”

  His retort was so unexpected she simply stood back to let him in. “You sounded like there was a problem.”

  He didn’t speak until the door closed in his wake. “I’m standing in the hallway, a bag of firearms in my hand and I heard housekeeping coming up the stairs. You’d knock urgently, too.”

  “You’ve got guns?”

  “Of course.”

  She knew it the moment the shock coursing through her registered on Jack. The urgent expression he’d worn since she opened the door faded, replaced with grim resignation. “You don’t think I’m letting you walk into Pryce’s house unarmed, do you?”

  “We hadn’t discussed it.”

  “I thought it was a generally acknowledged fact. Did you bring any of your own?”

  “No.” Her mouth snapped closed, and she had a moment of sharp regret that she’d been so careless and forgetful. It had been a while since she’d been in the field and it showed.

  Oh, how it showed.

  “Do you know how to use one?”

  His question effectively pulled her from her self-recrimination as indignation rose up swift and strong. “Of course.”

  “Good. Take this.” He dropped the Glock into her hands, the heavy weight of it firm in her palm.

  “I’m not sure where I’m going to put this with my skirt and blouse.”

  “Do you have a jacket to go with it?”

  “I do, but it’s hardly weekend attire.”

  “Add a scarf and you’ll be fine.” When she only stared at him, he added a cocky grin. “I’ve got older sisters, remember? Scarves always bring the party.”

  “You’re a very odd man.”

  “And your shock smacks of a woman clinging too stubbornly to gender roles.”

  “Excuse me?” The hauteur was back and she wouldn’t apologize for it. “I most certainly do not do that.”

  “You sure?”

  “I was raised at the hands of incredibly liberal parents and grandparents. Everyone got treated equally and everyone was expected to pull the load. Male or female.”

  He glanced up from where he secured a wicked knife to a sheath on his ankle. “So you don’t maneuver people in the ways you think they’ll best respond?”

  “Is this a job or a psychoanalysis?” She reached for the canvas bag Jack had set on the bed and began digging for a shoulder holster.

  “The way we’ve been dancing around each other, I’d say it’s both.”

  “I’d say it’s self-absorbed and irritating.”

  “If the shoe fits, babe.”

  “And there you go again with that cocky smile that says you’ll keep flirting with me like I’m your latest toy.”

  The smile fell abruptly. “I don’t do that. And you’re a smart, savvy woman, not a toy.”

  “Yes, you do that. The moment gets rough and you crack a flirty joke to swipe at me and keep me off balance.”

  “I’ve made no secret of liking you, Kensington. What part of that has escaped your notice?”

  Her hands curled into fists but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching her pace the floor like a crazy harpy. “None of it. Especially when you decided to use it this morning to try to convince me to go home.”

  “This job is more than we both bargained for.”

  “Would you ever suggest that to someone else you partnered with? A man, for instance?”

  “I told you the other day, I avoid partners. I hire operatives and dispense them where they’re needed. Clearly it’s been a smart strategy.”

  “So why have you come after me?”

  He stopped dragging things out of the bag to stare at her. “This job’s bigger than both of us. But with our expertise, together we can get to the bottom of what’s going on.”

  “Yet three hours ago you were ready to put me on the first flight back to New York.”

  “This isn’t about—” He broke off, struggling. “I didn’t expect we’d be up against murder by taking this job.”

  “Yet we are. You know as well as I do that we take what comes in this business. My brother killed his fiancée’s half brother a few months ago to protect them. My sister was held at gunpoint in the middle of an Egyptian pyramid. We take the jobs we take, Jack, and we live with the consequences.”

  Anger sparked in the depths of his dark eyes as he stalked toward her, stopping just short of touching. “I’m well aware of the risks we take and the possible consequences. I’m also well aware you’re more than capable of handling them. None of it changes the fact that I put you in the middle of this circus and I feel responsible.”

  She was working off of nothing more than sheer bravado as anger and that indefatigable stubborn spark arced between them. “I’m responsible for myself.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.” His voice gentled, matched only by the hazy need that clouded his gaze.

  Shoveling as much resolve into her voice as she could muster, Kensington took a step back. “I’ve made my feelings clear yet you refuse to move on. Refuse to take me at my word.”

  “Oh, you’ve made your reactions quite clear. In terms of what you’re really feeling? I suspect it’s a lot closer to the surface than you care to admit.”

  The spot-on character assessment was unnerving. But the realization he’d dissected her behavior so easily was mortifying.

  “I can appreciate sexual attraction as much as the next person, but we’ve got a job to do. I refuse to forget that.”

  “And there’s door number two. Revert to work. Pile on work. Use work as the excuse.”

  “You don’t do the same? You can call it flirtation all you want, but it’s not like there’s some deep, lasting connection here. Your reputation precedes you. Your skills are impeccable and once a job’s done you’re on the move. In the past year alone, you’ve been on five continents. Hell, your own staff is a bunch of mercenaries, by your own admission. People you use conveniently, then discard. Nothing lasting. No commitments.”

  “You know what’s involved in our business well enough to know there are some damn fine freelancers out there. And I’d wager the House of Steele has done jobs in that many continents, too.”

  “Yes, but there are four of us. And we’ve got additional help now, in the form of Campbell’s fiancée and Rowan’s fiancé. And Campbell’s got T-Bone, his right-hand electronics guy. Who do you have?”

  “I’ve got all I need.”

  “Right. Yourself. You can take care of yourself and control the world.”

  “I’ve been doing it a hell of a long time, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about me.”

 
; Without warning, he reached for her, snagging her off balance and dragging her into his arms. If the night before was a revelation, this was a plundering. Like a pirate at sea, Jack took and took and took and never gave her room to come up for air.

  The large body wrapped around her absolutely consumed her. With lips and tongue, with hands and chest, with heat and passion. Through it all, she was unable to say no.

  And she refused to pull away.

  * * *

  Just like the night before, Jack drank her in. Emotions he’d never felt before threatened to swamp him, yet he pressed both of them on. Pushed the limits of what had come to life between them, unwilling to play this game alone.

  When had this thing—a light flirtation, really, nothing more—turned into a raging, all-consuming desperation?

  “Jack.” His name tore from her lips, pressed against his own. “Jack.”

  “What?”

  “We have to stop.”

  “Can’t.” He captured her mouth once again before murmuring mindless words, as if they could somehow make her understand. “Want you.”

  “I want—” Whatever protest had sprung up died as she once again kissed him back. Her hands gripped his waist, bunched in the material of his dress shirt where it lay over his hips. Her soft moans listed up the edge of his senses, urging him on, forging this magic between them into something real.

  Tangible.

  Solid.

  “We have to stop.” The light press of her hands pulled him from the madness, dangling him just over the brink.

  “Why?”

  “We have a job to do. We have to get serious about what’s to come.”

  “I’m very serious about this.”

  “I am...too. I am.” She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, the motion doing nothing to cool his ardor. “But we have to focus. This is a distraction and neither of us can afford that right now.”

  Much as he wanted to argue, he knew she was right. They had to be at Pryce’s in an hour. He had every intention of taking his time with her, and an hour wasn’t going to be enough.

  Hell, an entire week wouldn’t be enough.