by Ann Charles
He finished whatever he had in the cup in front of him and stood. “I’ll go check on the helicopter and make sure it’s ready for liftoff. I’ll meet you at the temple with the stretcher.”
After Pedro left, she glanced over at Maverick. “You sure you’re game to do this? When you signed up to work at a dig site, handling rattlesnakes wasn’t in the job description.”
He lifted his leg, pulling up his pant leg to show her his cowboy boot. “I’m dressed for the rodeo.”
“Teodoro has some makeshift leather pads we’re going to wrap around our shins and ankles to help protect against bites.”
“Anti-snake chaps,” he said, nodding in approval. “Nice.”
That left Quint.
She chewed on another bite, meeting his hazel eyes straight on. What was going on in his head? Was he feeling cornered? Forced to go into battle? If he didn’t want to do this, she wasn’t going to push him into it. She needed him to be steady and on his game once they started handling the snakes. How could she give him an out without embarrassing him in front of the others?
“Just tell me what I’m supposed to do, boss lady.”
He answered her unspoken question for her.
She frowned. While she appreciated having him by her side, she’d rather he wasn’t there with all of those snakes. If anything happened to him because of her …
No. She shook off her trepidation. He was going to be fine. She’d make sure of it.
“For starters, you and Maverick need to help Teodoro haul all of the equipment over to the temple while I change into my other boots and grab my gloves. Take the wheelbarrow, since Pedro will be using it to move the snakes.” She shot Teodoro a questioning look. “Did you perform the protection ritual you mentioned?”
He’d told her yesterday he needed to make an offering to several of the Maya forest guardian spirits for both the snakes’ protection and their own before they started relocating the snakes.
He nodded, telling her in Spanish. “Last night and today after Jane got bit.”
“Good.”
“Gatita, you don’t need to do this right now.” Her father leaned across the table with his palms spread wide, pleading his case. “We could stay out of that end of the dig site and focus our energy on the Baatz’ Temple, the ballcourt, and those mounds just outside the tree line to the east.”
“We’ve put it off long enough.” Too long, actually. She grimaced, wishing she’d done something before Jane had been hurt. “Let’s get it done and make that area safe.”
His brown eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “You’re not doing this because you want to see what was on that piece of stela inside the snake den, are you?”
“No.” Well, maybe partly. What if that stela chunk was the missing puzzle piece that she’d been searching for since she’d arrived?
“Because that’s not worth risking the lives of four people to see.”
“Of course it isn’t.”
“Gatita.”
“Listen, Dad, if things get hairy, I’ll pull the damned plug on the operation, okay?”
“Fine. Be like your mother, then.” He leaned over the table and kissed her on the forehead. “But be careful. Send someone to let me know when you’re done so I can stop worrying and come take a look at that sacbe you found, maybe start the mapping process.”
He headed out of the tent, followed shortly by Teodoro, who motioned for Maverick to follow him.
That left her alone with Quint.
Before he could chew her out about dealing with the snakes this afternoon, she held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear it, Parker.”
One eyebrow lifted. “Hear what?”
“How this is a bad idea, and my obsession with finding that missing stela is going to get someone hurt or worse.” She picked up the other half of the torta and took a big bite, sighing with frustration as she ate. Damn her father for making her feel guilty about something that needed to be done.
“Anything to do with snakes sounds like a bad idea to me, unless we’re talking about the snake charmer dance you did for me that night in your bed wearing nothing but …” he trailed off, flirting with her across the table with his eyes. “You get the picture. And if you don’t, I’d be happy to whisper a thousand words about it in your ear.”
“Only a thousand, huh?” she smiled both at him and the memory of his enthusiastic reaction to her dance. “Keeping to so few nouns and adjectives would be a major feat for a wordsmith like you.”
“If nakedness is involved, I reserve the right to double my word count.”
“Nakedness for whom? You or me?”
“Ladies first, of course.”
This dig site was just full of gentlemen today. She shook her head. “If either of us is naked, I’m probably not going to be interested in listening to you blather on and on.”
“Blather, she says.” He mimicked stabbing himself in the chest. “You just killed my Shakespearean heart. I hope you’re happy.”
She chuckled, feeling herself fall even more head over heels for the damned traveler.
“Seriously,” she said, sobering. “I’m sure you have a strong opinion on what I want to do this afternoon.”
“Of course I do. We’re not going out there to rescue cute baby seals with big black eyes.”
“You got a soft spot for baby seals, huh?”
“I have a soft spot for you.”
“Soft? That’s unfortunate. I was looking forward to exploring your hard parts. Soft isn’t going to cut it for the job I have for you.”
His eyes creased at the corners. “Such a sassy mouth. I’m going to enjoy taming those lips later.”
Her pulse danced in anticipation until she stopped the music. Now was not the time for lust and fantasies. Not with a den filled with snakes awaiting them.
“It’s your dig site, Angélica,” he said, his tone serious. “I trust that you’re doing what’s best for your crew.”
Was she, though? It was her job to clear a site, but was she jumping the gun on removing the snakes in order to see that stela, or was this really about safety?
Shaking off her doubts, she chewed on a bite of her torta while measuring Quint up and down. Did he really trust her or had her father put him up to some kind of trickery? Normally, he’d protest such a decision, at least until she joked with him about being a wuss. “What’s your angle, Parker?”
“No angle, boss lady.” He leaned his elbows on the table, frowning toward the tent entrance. “Where is Teodoro going to put all of those snakes?”
“He’s been scouting around the forest since we found the den. He located another shallow cave a couple of miles away from here. It’s in the middle of the reserve, so they’ll still be protected.” She finished the rest of her torta in a couple of bites, wiping her mouth with a napkin after she’d finished. “He found a spot big enough nearby for Pedro to land the helicopter safely. They’ll fly them in and set them free.”
“You’d rather move the rattlers than make snake gumbo?”
“We can’t kill them. We’re the ones encroaching on their territory, not the other way around. Besides, this site sits inside the reserve’s boundaries. We can’t kill them without getting into a shitload of trouble.”
“Fuck.” He blew out a breath. “A rattlesnake roundup.” He stood, taking her empty plate. “The things I’ll do for a pretty girl.”
He swung by the wash bucket, leaving her dishes in the sudsy water and then trailed her out of the tent.
“Listen, Quint.” She stopped under the hot sunshine, her hat in her hand. “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to.” She wanted to give him an out now that nobody else was around. “As a matter of fact, I’d rather you went with my father to make sure nothing happens to him and leave this task to me.”
He smirked down at her. “Are you worried I’ll drop a snake or two?”
“I’m worried you’ll play hero and get yourself killed trying to save me.”
&nb
sp; His focus lowered to her mouth. “I’m not dying today, boss lady, so stop your frettin’.”
“You sound pretty damned certain for a man about to face off with dozens of rattlesnakes.”
“No rattlesnake is going to get the best of me. Not after I made a deal with the devil this morning.”
“What devil?”
“Your father.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And what deal did Dad make that has you so cocky about battling scales and fangs?”
“One stone in exchange for several hours alone with his daughter this evening in our tent.”
Alone? With Quint? A string of wicked thoughts flashed through her mind, heating her up even more than the hot sunshine beating down on them.
“Damn it, Parker.” She jammed her hands on her hips, frowning up at him. “How do you expect me to focus on hooking and bagging rattlers all afternoon after sharing that nugget?”
“It’s called incentive, sweetheart.” He winked at her. “I’ll see you at the temple.” With a salute, he headed toward the supply tent next to Teodoro’s where Maverick was already loading hooks and shin guards into the wheelbarrow.
Her thoughts still on Quint and what she’d like to do with him while they were alone tonight, she headed to her tent and changed into her hiking boots that went partway up her shin, pulling a tick off of her sock in the process. She exchanged her khakis for the thick pair of canvas pants she preferred to use when clearing thorny brush.
A glance at Quint’s cot made her face grow warm. A month was a long time to go without doing the bad things she liked to do to him.
Bad things that felt so damned good.
Grabbing her leather gloves, she headed back out into the sunshine, scratching absently at her neck. Between the ticks and Quint, she was feeling way too itchy for her own good.
Chapter Twelve
Xibalba: A “place of fright.”
Another word for the Maya Underworld where all souls went whether good or evil, rich or poor (only those who died a violent death escaped the trip through the Underworld). Xibalba and the Maya Underworld could be entered through a cave or still water, such as a cenote.
Rattlesnakes.
Fuck.
A trickle of sweat ran down Quint’s cheek.
What in the hell was he thinking?
Oh yeah … me Tarzan, you Jane.
The stupid apeman operating the control panel in his brain had ignored all Abort! orders, refusing to let his woman battle snakes without him.
His woman.
That thought made Quint grin in spite of the kamikaze mission he was strapping in for this afternoon. He could imagine the glare from the boss lady if he said that out loud.
He leaned against the side of the Chakmo’ol Temple, tying on his gear alongside Maverick. Sweat rolled down his back and not only from the heat. On the ground in front of them, Teodoro had laid out a line of burlap bags, setting up an assembly line that had Quint grimacing.
“Shit,” he muttered. “That’s a lot of snakes.”
Maverick looked over at the lineup as he tied the makeshift, heavy-duty leather armor around his cowboy boots. “Reminds me of cadaver bags.”
“Said the horror writer.” Quint cinched his own leg guard. “Let’s hope this is the extent of the research fodder you collect today. I’d rather not give you any inspiration for death by snakebite.”
“If you do get bit,” Maverick said while securing a second shield, “try to writhe on the ground for a while. I could use a visual of an Oscar-winning demise.” He stood, shaking his legs and testing his bindings. Then he walked over to the bags, counting. “How many snakes are we talking here?”
“Maybe thirty,” Teodoro answered.
“All in one den?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Angélica appeared from around the side of the temple. She cast a worried glance at the bags and then in Quint’s direction.
The urge to puff out his chest and pound on it a few times crossed his mind. Instead, he adjusted his shin guards, tempering his flare of testosterone before he did something even more asinine than insist she let him help catch venomous snakes all afternoon with his bare hands.
“That many rattlesnakes in one den is odd.” Maverick stretched his arms, then bent down and reached for his toes.
“What’s with the stretching, cowboy?” Quint asked. Were they going to do some Texas two-stepping with the snakes?
Maverick bent to one side and then the other, reaching for the sky. “I was in a car accident last year. I try to loosen up my back and shoulders now before doing strenuous work to save me from pain later.”
Quint just hoped to still be breathing later, with or without pain.
“I’ve never come across that many rattlesnakes together,” Maverick told Angélica. “I thought they were mostly solitary, except in the winter when they hibernate.”
Frowning as she tugged on her gloves, she told him, “Teodoro thinks someone may have been feeding them before we showed up.”
“Why would someone feed them?” Quint stood, testing his own bindings with a few stomps. And when were they last fed? Were they going to be extra hungry today? Pissy from low blood sugar?
“Teodoro has a theory about that, too.” She handed both Quint and Maverick some leather gloves.
“Alux.” Teodoro made a feeding gesture with his hand. “It give food to snakes.”
“What’s an alux?” Maverick asked, slipping on the gloves.
“A forest spirit in the form of a dwarf trickster,” Angélica answered. She glanced at Quint with a teasing grin. “Sort of like Parker here, only shorter and less sweaty in tight spots.”
“And missing my gigantic cojones of Kryptonite, of course,” he told Maverick, whose face split in a wide grin.
Teodoro called Maverick over, pointing toward the wheelbarrow as he doled out instructions.
Quint moved to Angélica’s side. “You ready to catch some snakes?”
She nodded. “I want to get this over with. I have a hot date tonight with a slick-tongued charmer whose extra-large balls of Kryptonite are revered by many.”
“Even you?”
“Especially me.”
They watched as Teodoro showed Maverick how to hold the bag for him, while he pretended to hook a snake.
Keeping his eyes on the tutorial playing out in front of him, Quint told her, “Sweaty in tight spots, huh? I’m going to make you beg tonight, boss lady.”
“Promises, promises.” She patted him on the butt. “Come on, Parker. It’s show time.” She grabbed a bunch of bags and rope, handing them to Quint. “You’re going to bag while I hook them.” She held up a rod three feet long with a hook at the bottom. “Just to be clear, we’re going to use the tailing method for catching them.”
Maverick frowned over at her. “You’re going to tail a rattler?” His tone was a mixture of surprise and admiration. “I’ve only seen that done on the internet.”
“What do you use when you’re catching them in Nevada?”
“I prefer a long snake hook and a big plastic tub, herding the hissing devils into the makeshift corral like any good rancher worth his salt. But I’m usually only dealing with one at a time and haven’t had someone there to hold a bag for me.”
Quint tried to picture grabbing a rattler by the tail while its jaws snapped in his direction and shuddered under his gear. “How are you going to tail it without it reaching around and biting you?”
“Follow me and I’ll show you.” She led the way into the jungle, slashing with her machete here and there as she walked. Teodoro followed, then Maverick, with Quint bringing up the rear. “Keep an eye out for snakes along the way,” she said over her shoulder. “You know the saying.”
“ ‘Always carry a flagon of whiskey in case of snakebite,’ “ Quint started.
“ ‘And furthermore, always carry a small snake,’ “ Maverick finished the quote, adding, “as the late, great W.C. Fields liked to say.”
Angélica g
roaned loudly from the front of the line. “May the Maya gods help us, Teodoro. We’ve been cursed with two word-happy bards on this snake hunt.”
Teodoro grunted.
“Cursed?” Maverick asked, glancing back at Quint. “What did you do at the last site to give writers such a bad rap with the boss?”
“He lied to me,” she said, slashing her machete at a low-hanging branch.
“More like told a few small fibs, really.” Quint dodged the spines of a thorn-covered branch. “They don’t even qualify as white lies.”
“And yet she let you return?”
“He wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Angélica swung her machete again, clearing the path.
“She can’t resist me,” Quint jested. “I got her number.”
Angélica let out a laugh that scared a half-dozen birds from the tree canopy above them. “Which he promptly lost in the North Atlantic shortly after leaving Mexico.”
That made Quint chuckle. “Touché.”
She smiled back at him before pushing onward through the brush. “Anyway,” she said as they skirted a low mound with a young, thorny ceiba tree growing out the top of it. “The quote I was referring to is that for every one snake you see, you probably walked past four.”
“Our quote was more entertaining,” Maverick said.
Quint agreed. “I should have brought some whiskey along for the hunt.”
They fell silent for a short while, crunching over twigs and dead leaves as they slowly made their way deeper into the brush. The jungle whistled, chattered, and screeched around them, vibrating with life. The smell of fresh air was mixed with pockets of musty earth and molding jungle detritus.
The rattle of a tail could be heard here and there as they walked, but Quint couldn’t see any snakes. The slithering bastards’ ability to camouflage with the dead tree litter and leaves made his mouth dry. More than once a gnarled stick made his pulse redline. If he made it through the day without his ticker popping a spring or two, he would count himself lucky.