The Rome Affair

by Addison Fox

  Kensington linked their fingers before dragging him around the perimeter of the statue so they could see the fountain from each side. Four rivers were represented in the statue, signifying the four continents where the papacy had influence at the time it was created.

  Although beautiful, Jack couldn’t see how the statue could take precedence over people’s basic right to food. “A monument to vanity.”

  “Albeit a functional one.” Kensington pointed toward the water pooling in the base. “The fountain did, and does, provide running water to the city’s denizens.”

  “A modest distinction at best when you have nothing to eat.”

  “The powerful want what they want. Isn’t that what keeps us in business?”

  “Is that how you see what we do?”

  “Don’t you?” She looked up at him as they strolled from the fountain toward the museum where Pryce would hold his next event. “The wealthy live by a different set of rules. They see the world as theirs to control while most people are simply at its mercy.”

  “Interesting opinion from one of the women who controls it.”

  A light snort escaped her lips and she waved a hand. “Hardly. I know I lead a comfortable life, which I’m grateful for, but I don’t have the sort of power that drives global events or rules an entire city.”

  “No, but you do have the power to bring one down. You realize that, don’t you?” A light prickle of awareness lit up his spine when her eyes grew wide with the implication of his words.

  “Is that how you see what we do?”

  He’d never put it in such deliberate terms before, but the truth was he did see his role that way. His business was all about uncovering secrets and lies.

  “Don’t you? Look at why we’re here. We’re in a position to investigate and ultimately depose a global leader if the suspicions about him are true. What we find can disgrace his ambassadorship and ripple through his country on many levels. At a minimum, the sheer embarrassment of what Pryce has done is going to do damage.”

  “We don’t know it’s him.”

  “But we know enough to sense it’s him or someone close to him. By virtue of what we do, we’re in a position to make waves and rattle chains.”

  “Yes.”

  Hesitation dripped from her words and Jack was intrigued despite himself. “So why the reticence?”

  “I guess I’ve always seen my role as more discrete than that. Separate. Riding in to the rescue, then riding off again.”

  “Is that the job, or you?”

  He wasn’t sure where the question came from, but the light stammer in her words was proof positive he’d overstepped. “Does it have to have a definition? I have a set of skills and so do my siblings. We do the work that needs to be done and we’ve got the connections to make it happen. It’s as complicated and as simple as that.”

  Jack suspected it was a lot more complicated than she let on and nearly said as much when the light prickle that had tripped his trigger a few moments earlier coalesced into something more distinct.

  And far more threatening.

  “What is it?” Kensington’s gaze drew sharp at his motions but he kept his hand firmly pressed over hers, moving them forward. “Keep walking and don’t look back.”

  “Jack?”

  “I’ve got a funny feeling.”

  The piazza was long and oval-shaped and they’d nearly cleared the length of it, the street access to the Palazzo Altemps in sight. “What kind of funny feeling?”

  “Like we’re being followed.”

  The arm she had around his waist tightened reflexively as she burrowed against his chest. “Did you see anyone?”

  “No, but I need you to look now. Giggle at something I’m saying and run your hand over my cheek. When I press you against that wall over there I need you to keep an eye on the street.”

  “I’m not tall enough to see over your shoulder.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell not putting your back to them.”

  “There’s no choice and we need to know what we’re up against.” She lifted her hand to cup his cheek, the light carefree giggle that erupted from her throat at decided odds with the words that followed. “Do it now.”

  He knew it was useless to argue and they didn’t have much time to waste, but a slick layer of fear coated his tongue as he dragged her back against his body. The moment he had the wall at his back, he angled around her as far as he dared, then dropped his mouth to hers.

  The shot of heat—so uniquely Kensington—coupled with the adrenaline roaring in his blood disoriented him for the briefest moment before he righted himself and opened his eyes. The north end of Piazza Navona spread out before him and he scanned the area in quadrants, checking off areas in his mind as he surveyed the landscape.

  First quadrant, second, third. All produced nothing beyond average citizens of Rome or a few late-season tourists.

  He’d nearly given up on the hunt when he saw the man, leisurely out of place with his back to a wall about thirty yards from them.

  “You see something?” Kensington whispered the words against his lips while shifting her arms around his neck to hide the fact they’d stopped kissing.

  “I think so. I’m going to turn you around and I want you to take a look also. Stand to the side and I won’t get in the way.”

  He kept his moves easy, his gaze never wavering from Kensington’s. “To your right. About one o’clock.”

  “I see him.”

  “And?”

  “He’s watching us and it doesn’t have that voyeuristic edge that you’d expect if we were just two people kissing in the square.”

  “He’s on the hunt.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  * * *

  She allowed her gaze to travel over the man once more. He wore a leather jacket and he leaned back against the thick, stone walls of one of the many buildings that dotted the piazza, one booted foot up behind him, balancing him against the wall. Cigarette smoke swirled around his head and he looked for all the world like a man out enjoying the cold evening.

  Had they seen him before?

  A mental loop played through her mind of the last several days, but nothing registered. “He doesn’t look like anyone from Tuscany.”

  “Pryce and Keene likely have a higher-caliber group of thugs right here in Rome to do their bidding.”

  “We need to flush him out. See what he knows. You’ve got your gun, right?”

  Jack’s harsh cough stilled her. “As a last resort, yes.”

  “I think we’ve run out of options.”

  A wry smile ghosted his lips. “Are you always this bloodthirsty?”

  “I am when I think someone’s going to shoot first.”

  The small smile vanished and she was gratified to see she’d made her point. He glanced down between them. “Gun’s in my coat pocket.”

  “Well, then. Let’s go ask our friendly neighborhood stalker a few questions.”

  The walk across the remaining yards of the piazza felt endless, but she stuck by Jack’s side, determined to see this through. Despite the sarcastic tone, she was nervous and only grew more so as the man’s steely-eyed gaze never wavered.

  “Who are you?” She eyed his stance, curious that he never shifted from his insouciant pose against the wall. “What do you want from us?”

  “I’m someone tasked to keep an eye on you at the orders of a very powerful man.” Although his words held the thickness of an accent, his English was flawless. “I think you underestimate your opponent, walking brazenly about as you do.”

  Jack’s words were even in tone, his own stance relaxed when he spoke. “Your boss has nothing to fear from us.”

  “And I’m here to see that it stays that way.”

  “Your b
oss has made some exceedingly poor decisions.” Kensington floated the thought, curious to see if the man took the bait and indicated who he was working for.

  Pryce? Keene? Both of them?

  “Decisions that are none of your business. You’re outsiders and you have no reason to be here. Take your ideals and your flashy attempts at providing security and leave.”

  “We were hired to do a job, guarding the ambassador, and we’ll see it through.” Jack maintained that nonchalant tone but Kensington didn’t miss the subtle shift as he put his body between hers and the man. Although unnecessary—just like his attempts to protect her during their kiss—she couldn’t deny how good it felt to have his protection.

  The man cocked his head as he exhaled a steady stream of smoke into the crisp night air. “I find it humorous for all your supposed skills you don’t understand the game you’re really a part of.”

  “Game?” The nonchalance vanished from Jack’s words, replaced with a harsh bite. “I fail to see any humor in the analogy.”

  “Because there is nothing funny about the situation you both find yourselves in.”

  Kensington pressed against Jack’s side, sensing something deeper behind the man’s words, even if it wasn’t immediately evident. “We’ll finish the job we came here to do.”

  “Even if it costs you your lives?” The man took one last drag, then threw his cigarette to the ground, grinding it under the toe of his boot.

  Jack moved forward another step. “Again, I’m sensing threats you’re in no position to make.”

  The man never moved, but a broad smile spread across his face. “Events were set into motion long ago and you can’t stop them. And make no mistake about it, you will die trying.”

  Chapter 17

  Die trying. Die trying. Die trying.

  Kensington shuddered, the man’s words playing on a continuous loop through her mind. She and Jack had long since returned to their hotel, yet the threat lingered. She’d already taken a long hot shower and changed into the warmest pajamas she’d brought on the trip, but even the fluffy fleece did nothing to warm her against the cold thoughts.

  “Got it.” Her brother’s voice snapped through her phone and she pulled her attention back to the call.

  “Got what, Campbell? You’re working on, like, four things simultaneously.”

  “The cameras from the piazza. I got a clean read from the bastard’s face and I’m running it through facial recognition right now. I’ll send you what I find.”

  “And the other things?”

  “T-Bone and I have been digging on Pryce’s financials for days. Same as you found before. Nothing’s popping.”

  “And Keene?”

  “Nothing there, either. You sure that’s his name?”

  Her brother’s words unleashed a torrent of expletives as Jack let himself into the room, two cups of coffee in his hand. “What’d I miss?”

  Kensington hit the speaker button on her phone before focusing on her computer. “Damn it to hell, I do not believe it.”

  “What don’t you believe?”

  Campbell’s tinny voice echoed from the speakers of her cell phone but it was Jack who picked up the conversation. “She’s typing furiously and muttering more of those dainty words I never thought I’d hear cross her lips.”

  “Bite me.” Kensington shot back the words as she logged on to one of the databases she paid through the nose for each year.

  “You must be Jack. Campbell Steele here.”

  Jack and her brother traded pleasantries—nonsense words that faded as she focused on the screen.

  Layers. It was all about layers, and she hadn’t dug through the right ones.

  Events were set into motion long ago and you can’t stop them.

  The thug’s words came back to her as she typed, digging as fast as she could.

  “This is about as fun as watching paint dry, Kenz. Want to tell me what you’re looking for?”

  “I’m so stupid.” She shook her head, wondering if it could be that easy. “How could I have missed it?”

  “Missed what?” Jack’s voice layered over Campbell’s continued muttering about how single-minded she could be.

  “It’s been right in front of us.” She looked up and gestured Jack toward her screen. “Remember what the thug said—things set in motion long ago?”

  “Kensington!” Campbell’s harsh tone echoed through the room.

  She tossed a glance at the phone but reined in her irritation at the interruption before she spoke. “Would you calm down?”

  “Would you tell me what’s going on?”

  “Keene. You were right, Campbell. It’s not his real name. It’s just like Abby and her brother.”

  The muttering through the phone—a lovable quirk of her brother’s she’d learned to ignore—stopped as he went quiet. “What do you mean?”

  “We missed the signs when you were in Paris because the threat against Abby was a half brother she didn’t know she had.”

  “Yes.”

  Her heart turned over at that single word. Although Campbell and his fiancée, Abby, were dealing with it, she knew the trauma of the previous September still lived with both of them. Abby’s half brother had kidnapped her and it was Campbell who’d killed the man, removing the threat that hung over both of them.

  How odd, then, that such a horrible experience would ultimately shed the light they needed on Keene and Pryce.

  She tapped one more set of instructions into the database, then directed Jack’s attention toward a specific point on her computer screen.

  “Holden Keene is Pryce’s illegitimate son.”

  * * *

  “The weekend went well. You continue to prove yourself an incredibly valuable asset, Holden.” Pryce handed over the last of the paperwork they’d reviewed, then steepled his fingers over his desk. “I’d like to formally announce you at the charity event at Palazzo Altemps tomorrow.”

  “It’s been a pleasure to work with you, Ambassador, and I appreciate the praise. Much of Tierra Kimber’s growth in global public opinion is directly attributable to you. For that reason, I would prefer to remain in the background at tomorrow’s event.”

  “Holden.” The ambassador let out a soft sigh and Holden knew what was coming. “You may dispense with the formalities. You are my son. A relationship I’d like the entire world to know about. Why must you insist upon hiding it?”

  “When I came into your employ we agreed these were my wishes.”

  “Yes, yes.” His father nodded. “But I’d hoped you’d come around in time. I’m proud of you. Proud of your accomplishments and your mind and your talents. I missed that for too long, which was my mistake, but I’d like the chance to make amends.”

  I just bet you would.

  Holden tamped down the thought, anxious his true feelings not show in his body language. The old man hadn’t been proud of him years ago. Oh, sure, he was around and available, but he’d kept Holden and his mother hidden away, unwilling to publicly acknowledge them.

  It was all well and good he wished to do so now, but too little, too late, as the saying went.

  He had plans and part of what made them work so well was the fact no one knew who he was. Keene was the name of the man his mother eventually married and it had been to his benefit to keep the moniker, distancing himself from Pryce.

  The man might want a chance to make up for his youthful hubris now, but Holden had long ago stopped seeking his father’s approval. In fact, it shocked him how much more appealing it was to consider the ultimate destruction of his father’s good name.

  Pryce.

  Oh, yes, he’d paid the price. Holden had lived in the shadows, the illegitimate bastard who was never good enough, all while Pryce’s three other children were fe
ted and groomed for something more.

  Funny how all that time and effort hadn’t paid dividends, old man.

  One son had wasted his life racing cars until the sport took his life. Another had far too big a fondness for the ponies and not enough for any degree of labor or effort. And Pryce’s youngest, a daughter, was content to smile on the arm of one bachelor after another, refusing to settle down or do anything beyond spending her days at the salon.

  So now Pryce wanted him?

  Wanted to tell the world how proud he was.

  Too little, too late.

  Tierra Kimber sat on some of the richest veins of diamonds anywhere in the world. With his own personal connections and the added grease working for the ambassador provided, he was well on his way to building his own empire.

  The diamonds moved a pretty penny, financing any number of nefarious schemes throughout the world. All because they fit nice and neat into bottles of barely drinkable table wine.

  But the real beauty of it all was that he was virtually untouchable. The wine was his father’s. The vineyard was his father’s.

  And Holden had put enough safeguards in place that at any point anyone caught on to what he was doing, it would be his father who’d take the heat.

  Yes, he was smart and enterprising. The bastard son who’d made good.

  And he’d be damned if he was going to let Hubert Pryce take the very best of him now.

  * * *

  “She’s different. I can hear it in your voice. Tell me about her.”

  Jack held back the sigh at his sister’s demands and buckled down for the third degree. The nine-hour time difference between Seattle and Rome ensured she was wide-awake and in the prime of her day.

  Which, knowing Kathy, meant she was rarin’ to go, full of questions and would not be put off.

  He’d learned long ago not answering when either of his sisters called did him no good, they just kept trying, so when her name filled the screen on his phone he’d opted to bite the bullet and answer.