The Rome Affair. Addison Fox

him. “I’m hardly here as an escort to the ambassador, Mr. Ferrero. Rather, I’m a paid operative who can either save his ass or put it in a sling. I understand the latter option’s not been made clear to the ambassador, but I certainly I hope it’s crystal clear to you.”

      Dante nodded. “As clear as the waters of Lake Como.”

      “Excellent. I’m glad we understand each other.”

      While the flash of male posturing—and the clear frustration lingering in the tight lines of Dante’s mouth—wasn’t lost on her, she’d learned early how to make a hasty retreat. She suspected the good inspector wasn’t immune to concern for his team member, so she’d start there. “How is Marco? We’d like to speak with him if we may.”

      “It can be arranged but it’s possible you won’t get many details at this point. As of this morning, his medical team has confirmed that he continues to lapse in and out of consciousness.”

      “Have you accounted for the ambassador’s whereabouts on the morning of the attack?” Jack waved the slender file Dante had shared. “Nothing’s been updated here since late last week.”

      “Yes.” Dante pulled another piece of paper from a slim folder on his desk. “We also have been monitoring both him and his key staff members for the past three months.”

      “Is that why the assignment’s changed since your original outreach?”

      Dante’s eyes widened at the question. “I’m sorry, Miss Steele. I don’t understand your meaning.”

      “The request you put to both my firm and Mr. Andrews’s firm was to provide security detail to a high-ranking diplomat. Yet here we are, tasked to find intelligence on the same diplomat. None of that was in your original request.”

      “Are you suggesting there is a problem?” The clipped tones were cold. Why was this the piece that pushed him over the edge? Any hint of politeness had vanished from both his tone and manner.

      Deliberately ignoring the censure, Kensington pressed on. “I’m suggesting you purposely withheld information as our firms bid on the project. I’d like to understand why.”

      Dante sat back, the dismissive move screaming his meaning far louder than his words. “Perhaps Mr. Andrews hasn’t found the proper partner for this assignment.”

      Before she could respond, Jack stood. “I’ve found the right partner. No need to worry about that.”

      Dante never moved from his seat. “Are you sure, Mr. Andrews?”

      “Quite. What I’m not sure is why your organization thinks that an outside firm is the way to handle this problem. It implies you can’t police your own.”

      Dante’s blue eyes flashed with cold fire and he leaned forward at the taunt. “We can handle our problems just fine.”

      “Yet you’ve sought my help, and by extension, Miss Steele’s, to provide plausible deniability when this eventually blows up.”

      Whatever else he might be, Dante Ferrero was a cop and it was that trait that ultimately won out. “One of my men is in the hospital, struggling in and out of consciousness and fighting for his life. I want nothing more than to get the bastard who did it, but it seems my government has overruled my eager need for justice. Your firm’s investigation adds a certain legitimacy to my concerns about the ambassador.”

      “And if things do blow up and Pryce is guilty of what you suspect?”

      “Then you and Miss Steele have my full blessing to take him down.”