She bit the inside of her bottom lip, thinking, not of the dig, but of safety from her father.
A long, loud whistle sounded from outside followed by intense shouting.
“What the hell is that?” Santos groused.
“Oh. The football game.” Melinda said. “I was coming in to get drinks when you called, Santos.”
“And I came in to see what the holdup was.” Rome added.
“A football game?” Ria asked.
Lance nodded. “Yeah. We were doing some digging behind his place,” he flicked his thumb at Santos, “when Chris spied those two teen boys messing around with a football. He got the bright idea of starting a game, intending to get them so tired out that they’d sleep the night away. Said something about how, with those kids on one side of his room and a crying baby on the other, he hadn’t slept since he got here.”
Melinda glared at Rome. “That’s why you switched his room? To be cruel?”
Unrepentant, Rome shrugged. “I didn’t like him. I still don’t. He’s arrogant and narcissistic.”
“That doesn’t make what you did right, Rome.” Melinda chided her son.
“He deserves it,” Lance pipped in, and ignoring Ria’s warning glare, added with a wicked smile, “he gives Ria hell all the time because she won’t sleep with him.”
“Lance!” Ria sputtered while everyone else gaped at her.
“I’ll kill him.” Santos drew away from Ria, stalked toward the kitchen door, flung it wide and stepped through.
“Santos!” Melinda stood up and called after her son, to no avail. “Oh dear.”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t kill him.” Rome said, following his brother.
“Uh.” Gwen looked from Ria to Lance to the door and back again. “This could be bad.” And she too bolted out the door.
“And where do you think you’re going, trouble maker?” Ria stood as well, hands on hips to snarl at Lance as he headed out.
“Are you kidding? This’ll be the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”
Bloodbath more like it. Ria skirted around the table to follow as well, only to have her arm grabbed by Melinda.
“You can’t go outside like that. Santos will have a fit.”
Ria glanced down, having forgotten she was naked under the thick robe. Then she looked at the open door. “But...”
“No buts. You go out there like that, and in the mood my son is in, he’ll just throw you over his shoulder and drag you up to your room. Probably lock you in for good measure.” At Ria’s wide eyed disbelief, Melinda clucked her tongue and shoved Ria’s purse and boots at her. “Believe me, honey, it’s not a dignified position, nor is it comfortable. If we hurry, we might just get you dressed and back outside before he grinds your boss into dust.”
Though she could have broken Melinda’s hold, she could all too easily see the sensibility behind the other woman’s words. She had absolutely no desire to be tossed over a brawny shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
As they hurried from the kitchen, Melinda questioned her the whole way as to why in the world she was still working for “that” man.
Chapter Twelve
Dressing took longer than what would be considered normal as the first thing Ria did upon reaching her room was to bolt out the sliding glass door. Her hands gripped the railing and she looked down at the unfolding game below her.
Though several men were on the “field”, there were also a few women, and the two teen boys Chris had griped about. Each had what appeared to be a towel sticking out from their backside, some blue, some white.
Ria saw Robby catch a pass, only to have a man nearly twice his age snag the towel he had tucked in his pants and pull it free. The action stopped. Ah. Not tackle, but not tag football either.
Several other people sat on blankets that had been set on the “sidelines”. Santos, his hands on his hips, watching, stood near Annie, who held a whistle in one hand, her eyes glued on the players. Melinda called out to Ria and she made herself turn and rush back in the room. She grabbed a bra and panties from her suitcase and dropped the robe, uncaring that Melinda stood feet away, brows going high at Ria’s behavior.
It wasn’t like Ria had anything Melinda didn’t.
She wiggled into a pair of jeans and pawed through what was left of her clean tops. Pulling on a tank top in exasperation, she hurried back outside, pausing only to scoop up her boots.
Thankfully Santos was still watching, waiting. She shoved her feet in her shoes, tying them quickly as looked through the slats in the railing. The current play ended and Santos yelled something that caused Porter to turn and look at him. With a shrug, Porter headed to the sidelines.
And then Santos stripped off his shirt.
“Oh, my God.” Ria gaped. Santos had muscles all right, and the color of his skin was no tan.
He half-ran onto the field, and when he turned to huddle with his team members, Ria’s chin hit the ground. Dark hair scattered lightly over a hard chest that bunched with muscles when he clapped his hands, then narrowed over lithe ropes of muscle at his abdomen that made her mouth water, and disappeared beneath the front of the low cut of his jeans.
It didn’t even register that Melinda had joined her on the balcony until she spoke. “I may be their mother, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate that all my sons are gorgeous, and very well built. They take after their father in that regard.” Ria might have whimpered. “I can also understand a female’s reaction to them.”
Melinda pushed something at Ria. “You’re about to catch a few flies, dear.”
Whether it was the words or the amused tone of them, Ria shook her head clear and took the offered item. It was a long-sleeved shirt, soft, but a tad too hot for the day. It was also the only one she brought that had a high neckline. High enough to cover the bandage she sported.
With a muttered thanks, Ria pulled it on and pushed up the sleeves.
“Go on. I’ll lock up behind me.”
Without further delay, Ria went back inside, out her door and practically launched herself down the staircase.
While she didn’t exactly race across the well-tended lawn, passing Porter on the way with a quick hi, her stride never slowed. Spotting Lance lounging with unmistakeable glee on one of the spread blankets, she sat down next to him. “This isn’t funny.”
Lance barely spared her a glance. “Sure it is. Look, Santos won’t really kill him. Hurt him a bit, but not kill him.”
On the field, Chris was looking for an opening to throw the football and Santos, rather than going for a sack, was blocking Andreas, roughly, with a lot of body nudging. But from the grins on both men’s faces, they were having a blast.
That open happiness caused her chest to clench and then ease. Air bellowed from her lungs in a huff.
Mistaking the sigh for one of distress, Lance said, “Remember that soccer game in that little village in Guatemala a couple years back? Think of it like that.”
They’d found the remains of a lost ship – how many lost ships could there honestly be anyway? – and while the majority of anything worth value had long gone, they’d recovered several interesting items the villagers had overlooked, including weaponry, loose gems and several gold coins. They almost missed them, covered in sediments as they were, but when the villagers had realized what the foreigners had, they charged them to fight for them. With a soccer game. Winner take all. And it was a nasty, bloody game. It had seemed terribly strange at the time, until Keith, another co-worker, realized it was a delaying tactic so the villagers could get word out to the local guerrillas.
They’d barely made it out alive, and with only half of what they’d uncovered.
Ria frowned at the memory. “It was supposed to be for the treasure we recovered.”
Lance smirked. “Yeah, and?”
Hunching her shoulders, she glared at him. “I’m not a treasure.”
“Tell that to him,” Lance nodded out at the field.
She let o
ut another sigh, watching as one of the women managed to snag the towel out of an opponent’s backside before reaching the goal line. When her eyes landed on Santos, it was to find a hot, virile and one hundred percent Lord-help-me-’cause-I’m-melting male watching her. The heat in his eyes was palpable, a look that made her shiver from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her own eyes drank in the sight of his bare chest, now with a sheen from the heat and physical activity. The ache low in her belly began to spread like shafts of lightening to encompass her breasts and the hollow between her thighs. Swallowing the excess spit that had accumulated in her mouth, she tucked her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.
Tearing her eyes away from all that masculine goodness, she glanced about her, seeing if anyone else had noticed that direct stare. Several other people sat on blankets, enjoying the amateur game and the sunshine. Rome and Gwen stood next to Annie, whispering to each other.
No one else was looking at her. “You never told me if you guys found anything.” She needed to get her attention off Santos, otherwise she feared she might spontaneously combust.
Lance shrugged, his eyes on the next play. “Some bones, and before you get too excited, they were animal bones. Rabbit or squirrel.”
“Oh.”
“A couple of buttons.”
“Buttons?”
He flicked her a glance. “Not old. Remember they’d had problems with trespassers.”
Crap. She let out a grunt.
“Oh, and a cell phone.”
When she raised her brow, Lance said, “Turned out to be Gwen’s. She’d lost it when she and Rome fell in the pit.”
“Ruin,” Ria replied automatically.
His eyes flicked to hers and he smiled. “Ruin.”
On the field a man who wore an Orchards t-shirt was getting ready to throw a pass. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Dennis. Another ranger. Works weekends. He’s got a good arm.”
The pass went to Santos while Chris blocked him. Though Santos caught the pass neatly, his elbow came out and hit Chris in the ribs, making her boss stagger. Their legs somehow became tangled and they both went down. Hard.
Ria gasped. It could have been an accident, the momentum of the ball, but she knew better.
At her side, Lance chuckled. “No biggie. Santos is just messing with him.”
Messing with him. Like a cat does with its prey. Just before they killed it.
Crap.
They went into the next play, and though the ball went to a male Ria didn’t know, Santos and Chris somehow came together and Chris went down again.
“Chris won’t be of any help to me if he’s hurt, you know.” Ria grumbled, watching as Santos helped Chris to his feet with a hard yank.
Lance scratched his chin. “I was thinking more along the lines of not getting paid.”
“Idiot.”
He only chuckled. “Relax, will you?”
“I’m too nervous to relax.”
Porter appeared with a large cooler just then and set it in the middle of the sprawling group. The play paused while a couple people came out and a few more went in, including Rome. Robby trotted over and settled next to Lance, a bottle of water in his hand. “Aren’t you hot in that?”
Ria plucked at her shirt. Yes, she was a bit toasty. Beads of sweat were in fact gathering uncomfortably, but she’d rather deal with that then answer questions about the bandage on her neck. “I’m fine.” Her motto of the day.
They watched in silence for awhile, Ria biting her lip each time Santos and Chris seemed to have an altercation. Athleticly built and no slack in the muscles department, Chris might have held his own against Santos, if Santos had been human. But her boss stood no chance against the swift and cunning cat.
“It’s like he’s got a vendetta against our boss or something,” Robby observed.
Lance’s laughing eyes shot to Ria’s. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Not that I mind it, necessarily,” Robby gulped some water. “Especially since he helped when Chris took off.”
Ria peered around Lance to look at Robby. “Santos helped you?”
Robby nodded. “Yeah. The guy knows his bones. Hey, you tell her what he found?”
“Oh. I forgot actually.” Lance lifted his hip and reached into his front right pocket.
Her heart leaped at the sight of the bronze coin that lay in his palm. “How could you have forgotten this?” She all but hissed at Lance. Snatching the coin, she turned it over in her hand. Small grooves dug into the smooth edges and several scrapes marred each face. She rubbed her thumb over the imprint of a male in profile, the foreign writing that circled the head. On the flip side was the image of a chariot and horses. It made no sense to her. “A Roman coin?”
When she brought her gaze up to Lance, she saw him watching her with expectant eyes, his lips curved with what looked like a secret smile.
Her brows drew tight and she looked at the coin again. Feeling the weight, turning it over and over. With the tip of her nail, she carefully scratched at some embedded dirt. It took another minute before she realized it was too round, the features too defined. She let out a deflated sigh. “Dammit. It’s a fake.”
“You got it faster then any of us,” Robby told her, impressed at her quick deduction.
“It’s not a bad fake and it feels and looks old, but not thousands of years old.” Her lips pursed. “How did it get there and why?”
“Who knows.” Lance stated. “Maybe good old pirate Morgan had them made to throw off his enemies.”
“Or he didn’t realize they were fake, or was just after the bronze.” Robby put in.
“Hhmm.” She looked up from the coin and out at the game. Chris caught the ball that was thrown from Andreas, but as he headed for the goal, Rome right behind him, Santos came out of nowhere and tackled him with a blatant disregard for the rules. Rome tripped on their feet and landed in a sprawl over both males.
A whistle blew long and loud. “Unnecessary roughness,” Annie shouted out. “You’re outta there, Santos.”
His expression didn’t change as he trotted off the field, leaving his brother to help Chris to his feet. When he reached Annie, they spoke and then he kissed her cheek. She smacked him in the arm and said something back. He bent to pick up his shirt, straightened, and walked straight toward Ria.
Not sure if she wanted to yell at him or kiss him, she stood. “Done now?”
He stroked one finger along her cheek, his eyes lowering first to her neck and then her mouth. “Not even close.”
Her thighs tightened at the touch, the obvious intent in his expression. Male heat poured off him and seeped into her already overloaded system. “No more.” She managed to whisper.
His lips curved at that. “There’ll be a lot more, kitten. Count on it.”
Barely restraining the quiver that threatened, she kept her mouth shut and watched in silence as he swiveled on his heel and headed away. Only when he was lost within the elaborate garden did she let out a shuddering breath.
“What the hell was that all about?’ Robby wanted to know.
“Seems Santos has taken an interest in our girl,” Lance told him cheerfully. “Didn’t appreciate it when I told him Chris has been making things difficult for her for years.”
Sagely, Robby nodded. “Ah. That’s why he tried to smear Chris into the ground.”
Ria rolled her eyes at that, and went to slide the coin in her back pocket. At the same time, Annie looked behind her and called for Sarah. Following the direction, Ria twisted just in time to see Sarah jerk her head from where Ria stood and rise unsteadily to her feet.
Ria looked around, but no one else was looking at her. Her gaze went back to Sarah as the girl headed for the kitchen, Annie next to her.
Did she harbor feelings for Santos? Is that why she’d been staring, or was she just people watching? If so, why the guilty expression on her face?
Chris limped over at them and she was forced
to put her thoughts on the back burner as he let out a grumbling tirade against overzealous men.
Her face all innocent, Lance’s mirroring it, they nodded in agreement as Chris plopped down on the blanket for a breather.
Chapter Thirteen
Late that evening, Ria stood on her balcony, staring out over the expansive grounds, an unlit cigarette hung limply between her fingers. A sliver of moon cast its glow over the seemingly endless back yard. Shadows danced and twirled in giddy delight as a sprinkling of clouds passed overhead.
Resting her forearms on the railing, she leaned over; looking, looking.
Much of the household was gone. Several of the guests, her boss and co-workers included, decided to spend their last evening at a local bar, a jaunt she hadn’t felt good about, especially if the attack earlier today was indeed orchestrated by someone targeting those connected with the dig. While she couldn’t stop them without using brute force, she made Lance promise to stay sober and alert. Now she was rethinking, wondering if she shouldn’t have gone as well. Another pair of watchful eyes. But she’d already declined, stating she was tired.
She wasn’t tired. She was restless. Edgy. Needy.
After a dinner she had only picked at, she’d returned to her room, her mind going from the coin she flicked between her fingers to Santos. The desire that had all but swallowed her whole when she’d looked across a green lawn and found a bare-chested Santos watching her with eyes like a hawk had only grown stronger over the intervening hours. She burned now, a vicious hunger that demanded to be slaked.
What had Santos been about to tell his mother? And why do I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t touch him? The questions kept coming up, an insistent nag that only abated when she forced her thoughts back to the coin, the ruin and the dig.
She’d pushed herself to get online, send some e-mails, see if anyone else had come across or heard of anything similar to the fake coin. Another puzzle that made her head hurt. And while the blood lust was long gone, another lust had taken over, making her body ache and heat until she’d all but run out to this balcony for some cool, fresh air.
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