by Ann Charles
Quint dropped a kiss on her forehead, and then pulled his hands free of her shirt. He stepped back as Juan came around the side of the tent.
“What are you doing back here?” A flashlight beam lit up Angélica as she leaned back against Quint.
There was no hiding the truth from her dad. “She’s being molested,” Quint said. He adjusted his pants, glad for Juan’s daughter shielding him at the moment.
Juan chuckled, lowering the light to the ground between them. “I should’ve known you two were up to no good since you were both playing hooky.”
“Is everything okay in there?” she asked, snagging Quint’s hand and following her father to the front of the tent.
“We’re ready to report in for the evening.” Juan led the way into the lighted tent. “And then I’m going to hit the hay.” He yawned. “Quint wore this old man out today.”
“I think it was the other way around, old man.” His shoulders and lower back ached like hell. Sleeping on that cot was going to be a bitch tonight.
Angélica let go of Quint’s hand and stepped inside, holding the mesh netting aside for him.
The brightness made him squint for a few blinks. The smell of María’s cooking almost had him drooling. He put his hand on Angélica’s lower back, propelling her toward the table where Pedro, Daisy, and Fernando were sitting. “Go get things started. I’ll grab some food.”
María was waiting for him. She handed Quint two plates loaded with tacos, chopped tomatoes, lime slices, and salad. Teodoro sat on a chair behind the table, drinking from a gourd cup. He nodded at Quint, his smile filling his round face. Quint smiled back at the shaman and then took the plates from María, thanking her. He grabbed two bottles of warm beer on his way to where Angélica sat next to Fernando.
He greeted the three university students along with Lorenzo and Esteban as he skirted their table. Juan had formally introduced him to Gertrude, Jane, and Bernard earlier at lunch—a lunch at which Angélica had not joined him and her dad. According to Esteban, she’d been too busy digging in the dirt at the ballcourt with Daisy Walker to take a lunch break. The young Maya had scarfed down his lunch and left with a basket of food María had made up for the two women.
As Quint approached, Angélica scooted closer to Fernando, making room for him on the end of the bench across the table from Pedro. Maverick was missing, but Daisy sat sandwiched between Pedro and Juan.
“Thanks, Parker,” Angélica said as he placed a bottle of beer and her plate in front of her.
A glance around the table found everyone else’s plates empty. No wonder Juan had come looking for them.
He took a bite of the taco and swooned, nearly falling off the end of the bench. Great horny toads! What in the hell had María put inside of the tacos tonight? He set it down and opened the tortilla. Chunks of brown meat, tomato, onion, and something green were mixed together. What was giving it that delicious tangy flavor?
“María makes the best poc chuc,” Angélica said, squeezing the lime slices over her taco and salad.
“What’s poc chuc?” He wrapped up the gastronomical gold and took another bite.
“An ancient Maya recipe for rattlesnake.”
He stopped chewing. “What?!” he asked with his mouth full.
She laughed. “I’m kidding. It’s wood-fire grilled pork. She salts the meat first and then rinses it with sour-orange juice. It’s an old dish made centuries ago when the Maya didn’t have refrigeration, one that’s been passed down through her family. Sometimes she uses chicken or fish, but Pedro brought her some fresh cuts of meat from Cancun, so tonight we’re being treated with pork.”
“It tastes incredible.”
Angélica picked up her taco. “You should see what she throws together when she’s not camping in the middle of the jungle.”
“How can you be sure it’s a cave?” Daisy’s question caught his attention.
“Because I tossed a couple of pebbles into it,” Pedro said, “and they bounced several times before quieting.”
Quint swallowed. “What did I miss?”
“Pedro found a cave over by Mound D,” Angélica explained in between bites.
“He was too chicken to do more than throw pebbles in it, though,” Juan said, lifting his coffee cup to his lips. He chuckled when Pedro threatened him with a fork.
“Don’t throw stones at chicken houses,” Pedro said.
“Don’t you mean glass houses?” Daisy asked.
“No, I mean chicken houses. Mr. Scorpion King with his red socks has no right to poke fun.” Pedro turned to Quint, leaning across the table. “Guess how I found the cave?”
“You saw a bat fly inside?”
“No. I went to see a man about a dog.”
“Mule,” Juan corrected.
“You’re the mule, old man,” Pedro said, clucking a few times at Juan. “Anyway, I tripped over a tree root on the way back and almost fell into it.”
“So, it’s a hole in the ground?” Daisy asked, her brow drawn.
“More like a hole in a mound that’s partially covered by strangler fig roots,” he told her. He looked back at Quint. “It took a couple of hours with my shovel and machete to clear enough space to squeeze inside. Some of those fig roots are as thick as a man’s leg.”
Angélica paused, her fork lowering. “That means the previous archaeological crew probably didn’t know about the cave. Did you see any iconography or glyphs on the walls?”
He shook his head. “But the cave looked deep. I didn’t go in too far. My flashlight was in my tool pouch back with the girls at Mound D.”
Angélica pushed her salad around on her plate. “We’ll check it out in the morning.” She glanced in Quint’s direction, her eyebrows raised.
He gave her a thumbs-up. There was no way in hell she was going inside that cave without him. He could only imagine what might be waiting for them in the dark.
He’d have to borrow Pedro’s machete.
And Teodoro’s hunting knife.
And Fernando’s bow and arrow.
And maybe Juan’s red socks.
“So,” Angélica said between bites, “Fernando and his crew are still dealing with the big mess the looters left behind in the Chakmo’ol Temple.” At Fernando’s grunt and nod, she continued. “Pedro found what might be an undocumented cave outside of the sites’ previously marked boundary and uncovered what appears to be the head of a statue at Mound D.” She paused to take a swig of beer. “And over at the ballcourt, Daisy found another jade piece to add to her growing collection.”
“Don’t forget the partial skull she also found this afternoon,” Juan said.
She found what? Quint wiped his mouth with his napkin, watching Daisy’s cheeks turn pink.
She shrugged, fidgeting with her spoon. “I was lucky.”
“You seem to have Lady Luck living in your pocket lately,” Angélica said. “I’m amazed at the way you stumble upon these rare finds. You remind me of my mom. She always had a knack for discovering extraordinary things others overlooked.”
“Like me.” Juan grinned.
While a rumble of laughter flowed around the table, Quint tried to picture what Daisy had found. “What do you mean a partial skull?”
“A piece of jawbone and part of the cranium,” Daisy said.
“Esteban thinks it might be from a monkey,” Angélica added.
Leaning across the table toward Quint, Daisy added, “But they seem rather large, and the cranium piece has some interesting marks on it.”
“Interesting how?”
Juan answered for her. “Like teeth scrapes from one of the big cats around here.”
“How is the Baatz’ Temple entrance clearing coming along, Dad?” Angélica returned the focus to work.
“We nearly broke our backs today,” he said, toasting Quint with his coffee cup. “But by tomorrow afternoon, I think we’ll have it stable enough for us to go inside and check for looter damage.”
After raising his
beer to Juan and their hard work today, Quint took a long draw from the bottle. Angélica’s father had labored like a man half his age today. Juan might call himself an old man and act soft on the outside, but the guy had a titanium core. Not to mention his seemingly endless supply of energy, and all while wearing a walking cast in sweltering heat. What was María putting in Juan’s morning burrito? Spinach? Cocaine?
“Stable enough,” Pedro repeated Juan’s words with a snort. “Those words don’t make me feel good about going inside that temple with you.”
Juan chuckled. “Come on, Pedro. When have I ever led you into harm’s way?”
“Last week.”
“Now, if you’ll remember, I warned you that thing was still alive.”
“You said it looked dead.”
“Well, it did.” Juan took a drink of coffee, his smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Imagine my surprise when it came back to life.”
“After I picked it up.” Pedro shook his head, grinning across at Quint. “You’re brave to sleep in the same tent as Señor Loco down there. Make sure you keep one eye open all night.”
“10-4.” Quint finished off his taco and dug into the salad. María had drizzled some kind of citrus-based, spicy dressing over it that made him eat even faster.
“Dad,” Angélica said, still in boss lady mode. “Did the notes and files INAH sent from the last archaeologist include any maps detailing the temple’s interior?”
Juan shook his head. “I don’t understand why not, either. Mapping is usually one of the first things done at a site. How else are you going to keep track of where you’ve dug and where you need to go next?”
“No map, huh?” Pedro’s gaze narrowed. “That’s odd.”
Fernando grunted in agreement.
Not odd, more like suspicious. At least that described the look Pedro was sending him. If Pedro had heard the conversation between Juan and Quint about the fresh scars visible on the corbel vault’s bridge stone, he would be even more skittish about hanging out inside of that temple.
“Is there anything else I need to know about today’s results?” Angélica looked around the table. When they all shook their heads, she called Teodoro over.
The shaman stood next to Quint.
“Did you come up with a plan for clearing the snake den?” she asked.
Teodoro nodded. “Pedro and I fly to Coba in morning,” he said in broken English. “Need supplies.”
Coba was where Teodoro and María lived in the off season. Quint had stopped by their modest thatched-roof, mud and limestone home with Angélica last month before he’d flown out for Greenland.
“Does that mean we should plan to spend tomorrow afternoon playing fetch with the snakes?” Angélica finished the last bite of her taco.
“Maybe.” Teodoro glanced over at his wife, who was trying to lift a bucket full of water. He called out in Mayan and then turned back to Angélica, his expression pained. She tilted her head toward María and he went to help his wife.
Without further ado, Angélica wrapped things up and thanked everyone for their help. She rose from her seat. “I need to go through some notes back in my tent. Are you about done, Parker?” She picked up her plate and held her hand out for his.
Quint did a double take. “Uh, sure.” He swallowed the last of the salad and gave up his plate.
“Why do you need Quint to study your notes?” Juan asked with feigned innocence. “Inquiring fathers are curious.”
“I don’t need him to study, Dad.” She glanced over at the other table, which was now empty, the younger crowd having dispersed for the night. “I need him to come with me to the showers.”
Pedro wolf whistled and clapped, dodging the napkin she threw at him. Without further explanation, she walked over and set their dirty plates in the wash bucket.
Quint was still trying to process her words. Had she really publicly voiced an invitation to join her in a shower? He watched as she paused next to the tent flap and wiggled her index finger at him.
Well, if she needed him in the shower, he’d better not make the boss lady wait. Shaking off his temporary stupor, he said his good-nights to the peanut gallery and dropped his empty beer bottle in the trash on the way out.
He caught up with Angélica near their tent. “So are you going to scrub my back first,” he asked quietly, “or do I get to start with rubbing your front?”
She held open the tent flap. “I’ll lay out a strategy on the way to the showers.”
A strategy for sharing a shower? “Wow. You sure know how to romance a guy.” He slipped inside.
She joined him, grabbing her towel, clean clothes, and toiletry bag, all of which she handed to him. “Carry these for me, will you?”
He collected his things, bundling them along with hers, and joined her out under the moon where she waited for him. That was when he noticed what she had strapped onto her belt. “Are you planning on shaving your legs with your machete tonight?”
“Nope.”
“Then what’s the special occasion? You realize that the bloodletting idea we were talking about before supper was a joke, right?”
“While you were getting our food, Fernando told me that he saw something earlier this evening when he was down here cleaning up.” She tucked her machete-wielding hand in his elbow and started toward the showers.
“Please tell me it was a big cockroach.”
“It was definitely big, but not a cockroach. Dad thought it might be a uay.”
“What’s a uay?”
“An evil sorcerer that takes on an animal form.”
He shoulder bumped her. “You’re a bucket of laughs tonight, boss lady.”
“I’m just getting rolling, Parker.”
As they drew closer to the showers, she aimed her flashlight into the trees and lit up the canopies. “What Fernando saw had sharp teeth and left behind big paw prints.” She pulled her hand free and extracted her machete from its sheath.
“Splendid.” Quint squinted into the trees, watching for movement. “There’s nothing more relaxing than stripping down to my birthday suit around a meat-eating predator.”
“Don’t worry. It probably just likes to watch.”
“A voyeur with pointy canines and sharp claws. Sounds like the makings for an exciting new Olympic sport—nude jungle sprinting.”
Her laughter was quiet, or maybe it was that the jungle suddenly seemed extra loud with howls, barks, and screeches. There was no way they could hear the approach of a large predator over this cacophony.
“You go first, Parker.”
“What? That’s not very gentlemanly of me. I think you should hand over the machete and let me guard your nakedness.”
She nudged him toward the makeshift shower stalls. “Don’t worry. I’ll give the critter a close shave if it tries to get anywhere near your sexy buns.”
Grumbling, he pulled off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, pausing when he noticed where she had the flashlight pointed. “My sexy buns and I would appreciate it if you’d turn around and stay focused on the task at hand, oh great huntress.”
“I was focusing. I have eyes in the back of my head.”
“Liar.” He spun her around to face the dark jungle. Then he stripped down and grabbed the bar of soap. Warm water sluiced over him for a few seconds. He shut off the water and began soaping up.
“You know,” he said, squinting into the darkness, “when I fantasized about getting some tail in the shower for the last few weeks, the only tail involved was yours.” At the edge of the flashlight’s beam, he thought he saw movement in the brush.
“That’s good to hear.” She moved the flashlight to the left.
A low-hanging tree limb bobbed.
The others around it didn’t.
He heard her curse as she raised the machete. “Scrub faster, Parker,” she said over her shoulder. “I think we have company.”
* * *
Two hours later back in her tent, Angélica was still cu
rsing, only this time it wasn’t at what had turned out to be a pair of rowdy coatis fighting in the bushes next to the showers. Now her curses were for the cryptic notes left behind by her mother about the mysterious stela that seemed to have disappeared into thin air.
“Do you realize you’re swearing out loud?” Quint asked, looking over from the magazine he was reading by flashlight.
Her father’s chainsaw snoring hadn’t roared to life yet. Ironically, before settling onto his pillow he’d inserted earplugs and turned his back on them, telling them to keep the partying to a dull roar so he could get his beauty rest.
“Sorry.” She stood and stretched her lower back. “I forgot you were awake.” He’d been quiet since he had stripped down to his boxer briefs and settled into his cot after returning from the showers.
Sitting upright, he dropped the magazine onto the floor. “Come here.”
“Why?” She glanced in her father’s direction, making sure he still had his back to them. “What’re you going to do?”
“Tear your clothes off, of course, and then ravish you right here while your father sleeps.” He waved her over. “Trust me. Just come here.”
Intrigued, she went. He spun her around so her back was to him. “Now sit.”
She hesitated, lowering cautiously to her knees.
“All the way,” he ordered and tugged her down.
She obeyed, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her back to him. “Now what?”
He brushed her damp hair aside. “To start with, close your eyes and relax.”
“Quint,” she said, starting to rise to her feet again, “I don’t have time for—”
A solid push downward and she was back on her butt. “Sit and relax,” he said, his hands locking onto her shoulders. “And lean your head forward while you’re at it.”
This time, she succumbed to his demands, letting her hair tumble around her face as his hands began to squeeze and massage her shoulders. Several seconds passed, filled with her grunts of pain in between moans of pleasure.
Damn. Just damn.
“Where have you been all my life, Parker?”
“Stuck in a bottle. The genie hat kept making my head itch, though, so I escaped.” He pushed the strap down on her tank top, baring her shoulder.