The Rome Affair

by Addison Fox

In the process, it had forced her to consider the way she’d been living her life. To evaluate everything she’d been doing.

  And everything she hadn’t been doing.

  On the top of that list was rounding out her professional life with a personal life that made her happy. When had she stopped taking chances?

  And—worse—when had she become okay with that?

  “I wanted the job.”

  A set of loud voices echoed from the hall before a small group came into the dining room for snacks. Kensington glanced down to where her hand joined with Jack’s before pulling hers away.

  She had some decisions to make.

  Chapter 13

  The rain had eased slightly as the evening wore on but a day’s worth of downpour had turned the parking lot into a mess. Kensington fought the dismay as thick, heavy mud dragged the supple leather of her boots.

  And then she forgot her poor, ruined boots as she took in the low-slung sports car, its tires thick with caked-on mud. “Can you get us out of here?”

  “Would I betray my ego and my reputation as a world-renowned superspy by saying I don’t know?”

  “Only if it would betray my world-renowned reputation as a calm, cool and collected businesswoman who would never stoop to use the phrase ‘I told you so’ about this rental car selection.”

  His grin flashed in the night, lit up by the sliver of moonlight that decided to make an appearance through the clouds. “Let me give it a try.”

  Ten frustrating minutes later—after she stayed well out of the way of heaps of flying mud off the tires—she watched Jack leave the car.

  “I’m going to go get help. The staff’s still cleaning up and someone’s bound to be able to lend us a hand.”

  She followed him back into the house, the heavy suction of her boots clinging to the floor and leaving large muddy footprints. “Jack!”

  “What?”

  “We can’t make a mess like this.”

  “We can’t help it.”

  She dragged him into a small utility room off the château’s kitchen. “Take your shoes off.”

  “I’m not going to go traipsing through the house.”

  “It’s still a mess. Come on.”

  The rain really had done a number and she couldn’t hide the disgust as she dragged the heeled boots off. “I love these boots.”

  “Why are you wearing four-inch heels, anyway?”

  “I like them.”

  “And if you’d had to run in them?”

  “Then I’d have taken them off. In the meantime, these accent my outfit to perfection.”

  His gaze ranged over her body and she couldn’t ignore the spark of heat that flashed in the small space. “I can’t argue with the results but I still say they’re impractical.”

  “Results?” The word was out before she even thought it through.

  “Your legs look about a mile long.”

  “Oh.”

  “Which, I suspect—” he leaned forward and dropped a hard, solid kiss on her lips “—is why you wear them.”

  The loss of height had her considerably shorter than Jack and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. “I wear them because they’re pretty and fashionable.”

  “And because they’re designed to make every one of us poor schmucks wild with uncontrolled lust.”

  She giggled at that, her attempts to remain stoic and haughty floating away on the air. “You put far too much motive into a simple fashion decision.”

  “And for a woman of the world you’re decidedly unaware of what you do to me.”

  The heat that had flashed and flared the past several days spilled over to boil immediately. The small utility room boasted a cubby for storing various hats, gloves and shoes and Jack had her back pressed against the side wall with quick, determined movements.

  The hard kiss he’d pressed to her lips was nothing compared to the raging inferno that he unleashed with his mouth. Long, sensuous kisses assaulted her as he pressed his body against hers, his hands roaming over her hips as he dragged her close.

  Kensington gave herself up to the moment, fisted her hands in Jack’s shirt and took.

  The kiss was hot and greedy and what began as something light and playful quickly morphed into something darker. Needier. Reckless.

  “Jack.” She moaned his name as their lips broke apart, the sound a breathy sigh.

  What had he done to her?

  And how had she come to need him? To need this?

  Even as she thought the words, Kensington knew the truth. Knew it down to her toes.

  He fascinated her and had from the beginning. Although their personal interactions had been limited, she’d done her homework and researched him, the same as any other business opponent. But what had begun as a deep dive into his company had changed into a review of the man who had created a highly successful business out of nothing.

  At the evidence of his raw ambition to make something of himself in a highly competitive—and highly elite—field, something had sparked inside of her. An intrigued layer of interest that had only ratcheted up and up with each interaction.

  The hard press of his hands along the length of her spine dragged their bodies in even closer proximity and she fought to keep her wits about her.

  They couldn’t do this here.

  But, true to Jack’s promise on the flight to Rome, they would do this.

  She was going to make love with Jack Andrews.

  * * *

  Jack felt the shift in her attention the slightest moment before Kensington pressed her hands to his shoulders.

  “Jack.” The loud hiss had a smile curving on his lips, despite the increasing frustration riding his body in swift, choppy waves. “Jack!”

  He pressed his lips to her neck for good measure—and because he was loathe to let her go quite yet. “What?”

  “We can’t do this here.”

  With tender bites, he nipped his way from her jaw to her ear before whispering in her ear. “Why do you persist in this idea that we’re the only ones to make out at the ambassador’s house party?”

  Her fingers tightened once more on his shoulders and she added a heavier thrust to the press of her hands this time. He broke contact, satisfied to see the thick haze that clouded her gaze and the high spots of color that rode her cheeks. “We’re here on a job. This needs to wait for later.”

  Jack stilled at her words, the underlying implication so loud and clear it practically echoed off the walls of the narrow utility room. A response eluded him; all he could do was stand and stare down at her, the heavy weight of arousal dragging at his body like a raging undertow.

  He fought for control, grasping at anything he could think of to calm this overwhelming need for her. Before anything truly effective popped to mind, a heavy noise echoed from the hallway and several members of the serving staff filled the hall.

  A mix of Italian and English bombarded them and Jack hiked his thumb toward the door. “Car’s stuck from the rain.”

  Within minutes, a team had been mobilized and he had a troop of staff members escorting him back to the car. His shoes still squished from where he had shoved them back on and he hadn’t missed Kensington’s moue of disgust as she attempted to drag her wet leather boots over wet socks.

  He glanced up in the cool night air, the moon shining clear and bright in the sky, almost insulting in the abundant evidence the rain had fully moved on. A hard slap to his shoulder had him turning, and one of the men who didn’t speak English was gesturing with large movements for his keys. Jack dug them out and handed them over before walking to the thick cluster of men preparing to push the front of the car.

  “This beauty’s not made for this.” One of the men he didn’t recognize from the weekend
pointed toward the car. The man shifted from foot to foot, and something in the broad set of his shoulders pinged at the back of Jack’s thoughts. Before he could focus on why that slight frisson of unease climbed his neck, the guy who had his keys had the engine purring while sending up a loud shout with the obvious instruction to push.

  The line of men surged forward at once, the car’s spinning tires quickly gaining traction with the additional weight. With a few last flying gobs of mud, the car sprang free from its rain-washed moorings, a loud shout of triumph echoing in its wake.

  He caught Kensington’s eye from where she stood on the side of the parking lot, well out of the range of the flying mud. Her arms were crossed but a sweet, witchy smile lingered on her lips and he felt something inside of himself shift.

  Attraction, yes, he had that for her in spades. But this was something deeper. Something more permanent. With a quick shake of his head, he did his level best to push it off and focus on the moment.

  Their moment.

  He’d learned early that doing anything else was pointless, anyway.

  * * *

  Nicky navigated as fast as he could over the back roads of the valley on his Ducati. He’d traveled these roads since he was a small boy, first in his father’s lap and later on his bike. The valley had changed. Or maybe he had.

  Either way, what had felt like home for most of his life had begun to feel stifling.

  A pervasive sense of evil had hung over everything since the ambassador’s chief of staff had gotten involved.

  He knew the score, some from whispers and some from his role in the local drug trade. Like he knew how the locals had upped their game since Holden Keene had come into the picture. And how it wasn’t only drugs moving through the ambassador’s vineyard but loud whispers of the diamonds that came straight out of the ambassador’s home country of Tierra Kimber, too.

  He also knew old man DeAngelo had been murdered. In his own vineyard, no less. Much as he’d like to do something about it, the locals had embraced Holden Keene’s enterprising sensibilities. And even he couldn’t deny the quality of what was moving through their valley was some damn good stuff. He’d avoided the heroin, having no interest in chasing the dragon, but he did enjoy the quality of the cocaine Keene ensured they all got a good cut of.

  Nicky pulled off about two acres from Signora Barone’s and looked for a place to hide his bike. Everyone here knew him, and he sure as hell didn’t need to announce his presence.

  He stowed the bike behind an old shed that had seen far too many winters, then cut through the backyards of the businesses along the main street of the village, keeping to the shadows. He felt a small stab of guilt but quickly pushed it away. The game was bigger than him—way bigger—and he knew it.

  So he’d do as he was asked. Hell, he had no interest in ending up like Old Man DeAngelo and, even if he’d wanted to, you didn’t say no to Keene.

  Besides, the man had offered to make it worth his while.

  Nicky heard the roar of the sports car as it screamed into the village and he positioned himself out of range of Signora Barone’s back patio. He had a small window of opportunity, and he’d be damned if he missed this time.

  * * *

  Jack pulled the car into a small parking space behind their B and B. Kensington had been quiet on the short ride back and he hadn’t been able to get a read on her mood. The sense of anticipation that had hovered between them in the utility room had grown stronger and ever more taut, like a rubber band pulled tighter and tighter.

  But underneath it all, he sensed something else.

  “You okay?” He put the car in Park and turned toward her. Moonlight filtered through the windshield, highlighting the arc of her cheekbone and the subtle sweep of her eyelashes. It was funny, he couldn’t help marveling, how she drew him to her and how he noticed the most subtle things.

  Eyelashes? You really are gone, Andrews.

  “Something’s out there.”

  “Where?”

  “There.” She gestured toward the window, then shook her head. “Everywhere. We’ve been expecting something and it hasn’t manifested. It’s like it’s waiting for the just the right moment.”

  For a woman who managed her life and her reactions to situations with cool efficiency, her fearfulness pulled him up short. It was precisely because she didn’t overreact that her foreboding seemed so real.

  Tangible.

  “The past few days with the ambassador have been uneventful. That doesn’t mean we won’t get to the bottom of what’s going on. Dante has us scheduled for an event early next week. We’ll have another chance to dig deeper. And don’t forget, we still have tomorrow morning.”

  “I suppose.”

  More rattled than he cared to admit, he climbed out of the car and crossed to her side. She already had the car’s elaborate door swinging upward, one of those long legs he so admired peeking from the door, when all hell broke loose.

  The sense something wasn’t right hit him mere moments before the loud pop of gunfire lit up the night. Jack dived toward the ground, screaming as he went. “Stay in the car!”

  Another surge of gunfire erupted above his head, striking the front of the car. He knew he needed to get to cover, but the second round gave him a sense of where the bullets were coming from and he used the knowledge to his advantage.

  With his only thought for Kensington and getting her out of the line of fire, he reached for the piece under his jacket, coming up with the gun as he came to a sitting position, firing in the direction of the noise.

  The shooter got one more round off, the bullet whizzing past the roof of the car, before the outline of a large body was evident in the moonlight.

  The light that had seemed so insulting earlier was now his friend as Jack took off in the same direction, his gun firmly in hand. Abstractly he heard the click of the door opening and hollered over his shoulder. “Stay in the car!”

  The sound of her heel hitting the pavement told him what Kensington thought of his direction, but he ignored it in favor of keeping his quarry in his sights.

  A large, oddly familiar body zigzagged through the backyard of the B and B before heading hell-for-leather toward a large fence that rimmed the property. Jack kept moving and fired off a shot at the man’s feet. The shot went wide but the fence post exploding under the bullet was enough to startle the man and he lost precious seconds racing farther down the line of the fence.

  Heavy breathing and grunting accompanied the gunman’s climb as he attempted to scale the fence, and Jack reached him just as the man had a leg over the top. With a hard leap, Jack reached for the man’s foot and flapping pants leg, determined to get a grip on whatever he could.

  On a triumphant exhale, Jack snagged the edge of the guy’s pants but nearly lost his grip as the force of the larger man’s body slammed him against the fence.

  Kensington screamed behind him, her cries for help doing enough to get several lights to come on in the backyard. The man above him struggled to pull himself over but Jack held on, his grip tight. He toyed with dropping his gun so he could use both hands but he couldn’t risk putting Kensington in danger if he no longer had his piece in hand.

  But it was that calculation that cost him. The sound of rending material registered as the weight under his fingers lessened with the force of the man’s movement.

  And then he was gone as his body slipped over the fence.

  * * *

  Kensington hollered out a string of orders as Signora Barone and her son came barreling out of the B and B. Her Italian was limited at best, but she knew the basics and she was able to summon up the words man and gun with surprising alacrity.

  She saw Jack struggling with the man at the fence and waded into the backyard, the grass almost as deep and squishy as the mud of the vineyard. She did her b
est to ignore it, but the sucking pull of the earth kept a tight grip on her heels and it limited her range as she tried to get to Jack.

  Every step was an agony as he never seemed to get any closer until—finally—she came upon the fence. Jack was already up and over the eight feet of wood and she fought the increasing sensation that he was in danger if he kept up the chase.

  She slammed her feet into the slats of the fence, desperately searching for purchase wherever she could find it. The climb was actually easier than the muddy backyard and she had herself up to the top in moments. As soon as she had a clear line of sight, she searched for Jack. His large form silhouetted in the moonlight as he ran through the property adjacent to the hotel.

  “Jack!”

  He never turned but kept going, clearly intent on the large, bulky form zigzagging about thirty yards in front of him.

  Her gaze stayed locked on the man who had shot at them and she sensed his movements the moment his hand went to the waistband of his pants as he ran.

  Summoning up as much breath as she could through the raw fear clawing at her throat, she screamed. “Jack! Get down!”

  The loud echo of yet another gunshot went off and she watched in horror as Jack fell to the ground.

  A paralyzing fear gripped her and, for a moment, Kensington couldn’t move. Could only stare in horror at where he lay motionless on the ground, his shooter fleeing into the dark night.

  Somewhere in the depths of her mind she screamed—or was that sound actually coming from her?—before the temporary paralysis vanished and she moved, lifting off the fence with a burst of speed. Her booted feet hit the grass but she didn’t feel it as she briefly fell to her knees. Instead, she was up and racing toward Jack.

  The wet earth still sucked at her feet and the distance between them seemed interminable, but she plodded on, step by step, as fast as she could go.

  Be okay. Be okay. Be okay.

  The words were a litany in her head as she ran.

  And then she saw the slightest movement—the flail of his arm just before he struggled to a sitting position—and Kensington fell to her knees as she reached him.