“If they’re correct, he’s smuggling diamonds through the Italian wine trade.”
* * *
Kensington exhaled a harsh breath, shocked at Jack’s suggestion. “The man is incredibly well respected. What proof do the Italians have to even suggest something like this?”
Jack pulled a small tablet from his pocket and turned it on, flipping to a document before handing the device to her. Their fingers brushed momentarily and her gaze landed squarely on his at the contact. She swallowed hard as that intense, dark brown gaze captured hers.
Because she’d already overplayed her hand with the scrutiny, she decided to go for broke and look her fill. The hue of his eyes was a color match for his almost-black, close-cut hair. She saw some threads of gray at the temples and wondered at that. Her research indicated he was no more than thirty-six, but the lines at the corners of his eyes added to the gray, suggesting a man who worked and played hard.
“How much research did you do on Ambassador Pryce prior to the assignment?” Jack asked.
“I put together an extensive dossier. Although born in the small nation of Tierra Kimber, he’s from a well-respected European family and was educated in the United States. He spent his formative years at Choate, then on to Yale. He spent another decade in the U.S., working in the New York office of his family’s financial firm before returning to live in Tierra Kimber. His reputation is sterling.”
“Well, the Italians don’t think so. They’ve become increasingly convinced his interests aren’t quite on the up-and-up and that he’s been abusing his ambassadorship to move diamonds.” Jack pointed to the tablet. “Take a look at that document.”
She flipped through the various pages, immediately lost in a series of email exchanges that had obviously been intercepted and cobbled together. Although nothing about any individual email seemed off, taken as a whole it was more than obvious something was afoot. “An ambassador’s communications are protected. How’d they get these?”
“They didn’t share that information with me.”
A strange, unwelcome panic gripped Kensington, twisting her stomach into knots. “Jack. You shouldn’t have this.”
“They’re my client. What I probably shouldn’t be doing is sharing this with you.”
“No, I mean you shouldn’t have this. Pryce has full diplomatic immunity. He’s not subject to the same laws as others and possession of this communication is violating another basic tenant of the Convention.”
“It’s my job. Would have been your job had you won the bid.”
“We’d have stepped out of it.” Even as the words left her lips, she knew that wasn’t entirely true. She and her siblings had built their business taking on the jobs others didn’t want or weren’t capable of.
And connections like the Italian government—connections who needed outside help and who would sing the House of Steele’s praises for a job well-done—were always worth her time.
“You’d have really walked away?”
“I’d certainly have taken it to my family and we would have considered it as a team.”
“The buck stops with me at Andrews Holdings, which is why I have team members who act as operatives, not partners. I’m not walking away from the assignment, but I’m not bullheaded enough not to realize when I need help.”
“And you think I can provide that?”
“I know you can.”
The curiosity that had curled in her belly the moment she realized Jack Andrews was in her home rose another several notches. “What do you want from me?”
“Join me. Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”
“I’m not spying on Hubert Pryce.”
“Consider it a high-level investigation.”
Kensington knew full well she needed to let this go. She’d lost the bid and no matter how badly that galled her, she did not need to be brought in after the fact on a project that already had serious changes from the original brief—and international criminal implications.
And she especially needed to walk away because Jack’s offer had her more than a little intrigued.
She hadn’t been in the field in quite some time, deferring the majority of their business to her siblings while running things back at home. Over the past few months that lack of activity had begun to chafe.
Her brother Campbell was the hacking wiz, but she had a special skill when it came to digging up information, following threads. Campbell knew how to get into a system, but she knew how to forensically audit that system forward and backward.
Money. Leads. Connections.
Her innate tenacity, stubborn will and a strange tendency toward little sleep had ensured she was more than adept at tugging on threads until she unraveled the right mix of details.
And although she could do plenty of digging from right here, safe and sound at home, she’d begun to fear the lack of action would make her soft. “How do the Italians plan to get around Ambassador Pryce’s own security detail? I’m sure his protection is considerable.”
“The Italians work in tandem with the Tierra Kimber government to ensure the safety of Pryce, his family and the staff he employs. When he’s in Italy, he’s under the protection of the Italian government.”
“And they’re proposing to just sneak you in?”
“Sneak us in, although it’s really not that sneaky. Pryce already knows several people are assigned to his protection and he’s expecting a mix of men and women. Much of his work takes place in more relaxed settings, and it helps to have pairs working together. We’ll mix and mingle as guests at his events, and we’re expected to function as knowledgeable members of his staff.”
“And you don’t think he’ll make both of us.”
“That’s why we’re not sneaking. We both run well-respected security operations that Pryce has likely heard of. He’ll know who we are from the get-go.”
“And you think that’ll be enough?”
“I know so.” That dark gaze evaluated her once more and Kensington couldn’t stop the light line of gooseflesh that tickled her skin.
This man did something to her.
But did she dare spend time in his company? Intimate time that would require them to become allies, working toward a common goal?
Could she really stay away?
* * *
Jack glanced around the inner sanctum that was Kensington Steele’s office. He’d imagined her repeatedly, here in her element, but now that he had a true picture of her work space he could see where his musings fell short.
In his mind’s eye she conducted business behind a small, delicate writing desk. Instead, the large cherrywood monstrosity she currently sat behind looked more as if it belonged in a ship captain’s office than that of a modern-day righter of wrongs.
Although he hadn’t imagined the desk correctly, he had pictured her space as neat, tidy and efficient and she didn’t disappoint.
“What’s that look for?” She glanced up from where she tapped on a few keys at the computer just before the gentle whir of her printer started up.
“I took you for the neat and orderly type.” He pointed toward the desk. “But I didn’t expect you’d sit behind a desk the size of a frigate.”
“How else do you think I can file everything and keep it neat and orderly? If I sat at a small desk, I’d have piles everywhere.”
“Fair