On Deadly Ground (Devlin Security Force Book 1)

by Susan Vaughan

  With all his strength, Doug rolled the wheelchair forward, rammed it into Al.

  The guard jerked, yelled, but his forefinger tightened on the trigger.

  Dammit, if only Doug had the fork. With both hands, he hoisted up his leg, weighted with the cast. He swung for the bleachers with all his strengths.

  The leg cast whacked the back of Al’s knees. He yelled. His gun went off. Doug, the wheelchair, and Al crashed to the ground. The bullet blasted through the thatched roof. Brown shreds of palm fronds rained down.

  The GI guy jumped the guard and decked him with one meaty fist to the chin.

  A gleaming white smile greeted Doug from the depths of the dark beard. “Nice save. You must be Doug Fontaine.”

  “Maybe. Who the hell are you?”

  ***

  Near K’eq Xlapak

  Max gathered the med equipment where the thugs had dumped them. He cleaned the bullet holes and applied wound sealant. After binding her thigh with gauze and tape, he carried her to the lean-to. Ibuprofen would take the edge off her pain until he could get her to K’eq Xlapak. “I’ll phone your archeologist buddy. Get him to send a litter. A medic if they have one.”

  “No, first call Del Rio. Doug,” she gritted out, her breath shallow. She pushed up onto her elbows as he punched the number.

  The anguish in her eyes stabbed more pain into him than his arm scrape. May be some way to salvage this cluster fuck as long as Del Rio could rescue Doug. Dios, he hoped he could give her good news.

  A familiar voice answered the call. “Hey, Texas, you calling me for help already?”

  Tension drained from his shoulders and jaw as if siphoned away. “Del Rio, you bum. We had some issues here but nothing I couldn’t handle solo. Situation report.”

  “Fontaine seems okay except his cast just got busted. I got some mopping up to do here first, and then I’ll take him to that temple restoration place.”

  When Max gave Kate a thumbs-up, she sank down, eyes closed. Tears streamed from beneath her lashes and her lips formed the words thank you.

  He swiped at his eyes. Must be grit left over from the tremor. He listened as his buddy rattled off the rest of his situation report.

  “Two guards, according to Fontaine. One outside jumped me, got his neck snapped for his trouble. The other was inside this hut with his prisoner. Had a pistol, but Fontaine helped deck him. How he broke the cast.” Max could hear the smile in his buddy’s voice. “Guard number two is trussed up and gagged. Have to hang out here awhile. Waiting for—”

  In the receiver, Max heard yelling and a clunk as the phone dropped.

  “What’s happening?” Kate asked.

  “Dunno. Hold on.” He listened. A scraping sound. A grunt. Then a new voice.

  “This Max Rivera?”

  “Roger. What’s going on? Who’s this?” Except he knew damned well who it was. He sounded winded but strong, as if he just kicked butt. Which he did, according to Del Rio.

  “Doug Fontaine here. My fucking kidnapper arrived for his daily visit when your guy was talking to you. He tied up Luis with some of those zip ties.”

  “You know who he is?”

  “Hell of a thing. Don Luis, chief priest at K’eq Xlapak. My sister, she all right?”

  Max smiled. “She’s had a rough time but she wants to talk to you.”

  Kate’s hands shook but she barely felt the pain in her leg as she reached for the phone. “Doug?”

  “Hey, Katie, don’t cry. I’m okay. Hell, not totally, but I will be.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to go through this.” Her voice caught on a sob. “If only—”

  “You’re sorry? I’m the one who fucked up, but good.”

  That much was true, but they’d both fucked up. She couldn’t help laughing. “Let it go for now. I’ll get you home and we can argue later about whose fault this mess was.”

  She smiled at Max, but he wasn’t looking at her. He sat nearby wrapping his arm with gauze. Cuts from flying rock splinters dotted the left side of his handsome face. The bullet gouge in his arm was raw and red. He’d only winced at the antiseptic, but she’d squealed like a monkey. No amount of thanks would be enough. Her chest ached as if the bullet had struck her there.

  She looked away when she heard Doug’s voice.

  “About going home. It’s like this. Your buddy’s ordering up a chopper to take me out of K’eq Xlapak. Then the FBI wants to talk to me. Questions about black market deals with Centaur. A guy doesn’t say no to the Feds, right?”

  The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “The FBI?” She shot a glance at Max. Mouth tight, warrior face on, he stared straight ahead, not at her. Pain raked her, grinding like serrated knives into her wounded thigh and radiating through her body. Did she hear her brother correctly, or was the pain dulling her mind?

  “Katie, you okay?”

  She gritted her teeth against a groan. “But your buys were legitimate, with documented provenance. Tell this Del Rio you don’t know anything about the black market or this Centaur.”

  Throat-clearing noises came through the receiver. “I wish I could do that, Katie, but I can’t. I have to answer their questions.”

  “But, Doug, this makes no sense.”

  “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. No time to explain now. Del Rio needs to call the professor at the restoration to send us some help. Hey, cool we’re both not far from there. Bye.” His strained tone belied his flippant words.

  After the phone went dead, she stared at nothing. Dizziness rocked her. A lungful of air wasn’t enough to clear her head of the ugly truth. In spite of the heat, she felt encased in ice, numb. Even though Doug was safe now, it was her fault he’d been injured to begin with. She’d blinded herself to his dealings, let him become involved with criminals. She hadn’t kept her promises to her dad, either of them. She’d even screwed up by falling for Max, an adventurer she shouldn’t have trusted from the outset.

  Mom was right. She wasn’t tough or brave or capable. She would return to the museum and stay there. Put Max out of her head and her heart, or the memories would crush her like an earthquake.

  She levered herself to a sitting position. The throbbing in her leg was a mosquito bite compared to what she had to do now.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Max had known this moment would come, but maybe now that Kate knew what her brother’d done, she’d understand.

  The anguish in her eyes said he was wrong. His heart sputtered and knocked like a dying engine.

  “You lied to me, Max. You never mentioned the FBI, only suspicion by DSF.”

  “The FBI was part of the plan all along.” No reason not to ’fess up. Might as well dive off the cliff and end it all. “Interpol too. The reason I had to ask you about what Doug bought and sold.”

  “The bronze helmet and the Nike amphora. Were they... illegal?”

  “Stolen from a small museum in Athens, along with a gold bracelet I saw in Sedgwick’s safe. Scotland Yard found the other two in a raid on a Centaur guy.”

  “You knew they were illegal but you said nothing. If you’d told me, I’d have understood.”

  He hadn’t reckoned she would, one reason he didn’t explain after Mara found out the rest. And he didn’t want to hurt her. Shit, she was hurting now, probably worse. A lie of omission was still a lie. He’d made a fucking mess of it. No excuses. He shook his head, kept his sorry yap shut.

  Pain crimped her forehead and tightened her mouth. “I paid Devlin Security Force for protection, but they used me, you used me to find dirt on my brother. Thomas will hear about this.” She picked up her phone. “I’ll call for that litter. When the helicopter arrives, I’ll leave with Doug. You and I have no more to say to each other.”

  Her tears had dried, but the raw pain and accusation in her eyes struck hard and deep, spearing between his ribs. He could barely breathe.

  He’d fucked up bad. He’d betrayed her trust. Look what happened when you got involved. Kate was l
eaving him, like she did. He must’ve deserved it then and he sure as hell deserved it now.

  ***

  In the jungle

  Fucked up was right. How could he ever explain all he’d done to his sister? Hell, how could he even face her? Telling the K’eq Xlapak Maya their chief Jaguar priest had kidnapped him would be no picnic either. Suck it up, Fontaine.

  After his excruciating conversation with Kate, Del Rio had called the restoration. The professor knew nothing about Doug’s kidnapping, so Del Rio told him the basics. Then he’d wheeled Doug from the hut and marched out the two kidnappers, pushing them down to sit against the hut wall.

  “You okay? Is it your leg?” Del Rio said.

  Doug’s pain wasn’t in his leg. Or in his head this time. Rubbing his chest, he lifted his face to the sun and inhaled the clean air. Ah, green plant smells, not dirt laced with smoke from cooking fires.

  “A little achy. No big deal. Those fuckers probably hurt worse.” Dried blood stained the priest’s split lip and Al’s eye had swelled shut. Damned right.

  Voices approached from a shaded trail. Several men, some with hunting rifles, one carrying a stretcher, entered the clearing.

  “Me llamo Héctor,” a wiry man in khaki pants said. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the prisoners.

  Del Rio and he shook hands and rattled on in Spanish too fast for Doug to follow. When they finished, Héctor walked over to Luis and shouted at him, then at the guard. Neither man had said fuck all since Del Rio kicked their asses. They said nada now. Only stared straight ahead.

  Doug hitched around in the wheelchair and beckoned to Del Rio. “Care to translate?”

  The other man cocked his head. His big fingers probed his thicket of a beard and scratched. “Most of it was my explanation and his shock. Main thing—your kidnapper’s not the chief Jaguar Priest. Real name’s Jago, assistant to Don Luis.”

  ***

  K’eq Xlapak

  Max trudged behind the stretcher as the little procession entered the archeological encampment. Kate needed more medical care than his field kit could supply. Once he saw to that, he had to know why the priest wanted the Kizin statue as ransom when Kate was bringing it to him anyway.

  Men had arrived at the cenote clearing with a stretcher. An older woman carrying a medical kit introduced herself as Dr. Pilar Morales. She pronounced Max’s first aid as satisfactory and organized the men to lift Kate onto the stretcher. A ten-minute walk had taken them along a trail to K’eq Xlapak, and the midday sun’s heat. Professor Morales met them at the temple and accompanied them here.

  People clustered around them, talking in Spanish and Mayan, making sympathetic noises. More than one spoke the name Fontaine. Shit, they probably thought she’d brought Kizin.

  For days Max had anticipated viewing the ruins, but now all he saw was Kate, gravely injured, barely conscious. If it was possible, he’d absorb all her pain.

  “Rivera, hold up.”

  Shaking himself to awareness, he turned toward the voice. A larger group than theirs emerged from the jungle, led by Lucas Del Rio carrying a wheelchair. A few Maya men holding rifles held onto two men whose wrists were tied. And a few others carried a stretcher bearing a tall blond man—Doug Fontaine.

  Max sketched his friend a salute.

  “Kate, I see Del Rio and your brother.” When she raised her head and started to speak, he put a hand on her shoulder. Had to touch her one last time. “I’ll bring Doug soon. Hold on and let the doc take care of you.” Dragging away his hand, he closed his fingers on his palm.

  He turned to Dr. Morales. “I need to go talk to my colleague.”

  “But your arm!” She held up a hand to stop the parade and made clucking noises. “You need proper bandaging.”

  As a man rushed forward, Max tensed, hand on his side holster. Smiling, the man bowed and pressed his hands together in the Maya gesture of thanks. Arturo, Constantino’s brother. Thank God he made it to safety. Max shook his hand and sent him to Kate’s side.

  “Doc, I’ll catch up with you later.” He peeled off and jogged toward the other group.

  “Lucas, those bums look like you dragged ’em through the jungle.” He shook his friend’s hand.

  “Not me, but their buddies here didn’t take it well when they heard what they’d done.”

  Max turned to Doug Fontaine, who was settling into the wheelchair.

  “Might’ve done them some good.” Doug grinned and pumped his hand. “Thanks for protecting my sister.”

  “No thanks necessary. My fault she got hurt. Some of the time she protected me.” The less Kate’s brother knew the better.

  “Can’t wait to hear about that.” Doug jerked a nod toward the two prisoners. “Can’t wait for their story either. So far they’re not talking.”

  ***

  Kate adjusted the aluminum crutches beneath her arms. She’d slept away the afternoon on a cot and was still wonky. The pain in her thigh hammered at her, but she’d refused anything but ibuprofen until she could explain the loss of Kizin. And apologize. Not much but all she could offer.

  And she had to see Doug. They’d had a few moments of hugs and tears—her tears—and he told her the kidnapper wasn’t the actual chief priest but a usurper, who’d planned to enter K’eq Xlapak with Kizin and declare a miracle. “The creep figured they’d anoint him the new Jaguar Priest,” Doug sneered. A medical assistant had interrupted and whisked him away to change his cast.

  Kate needed to know more, especially how he’d gotten involved with Centaur. Was there more bad news? Why hadn’t she pressed Max for the facts after he quizzed her? Her eyes stung and she ached for her brother. No, no more tears. But why, Doug...

  Shaking herself to alertness, she took a few steps along the wall of the medical building, a basic structure with screened walls and a thatched roof. “Thank you for everything, including braiding my hair and the shorts and T-shirt.” Blood and grime and tears had ruined what she’d been wearing, and rather than search for the backpack, the doctor had shared. At least she had her yellow cap.

  “Good thing we’re about the same size.” Dr. Pilar chuckled, and laugh lines crinkled her dark eyes. “I’ve had lots of practice braiding hair.” She flipped her own French braid, a shiny red softened by gray strands.

  “My brother, where is he?”

  “Oh, sí. I should have told you. He and my husband are at the temple plaza. Some villagers are outside to help you there. I’ll come along shortly.”

  Good. She wanted to see the temple, maybe more of the restoration, and then leave this place behind. Along with her memories. As if that were possible. “I’ll be okay.” Her progress would be slow but she could make it as long as another tremor like the one this morning didn’t hit.

  Outside, she squinted in the sun and inhaled the baked-dust scent of the open air.

  Nearby ranged other semi-permanent buildings for the project’s work and rows of tents for the project personnel. No one seemed to be around except for those waiting for her.

  Max stood to one side, a clean bandage on his wounded biceps. Pilar had stitched his wound, then administered a tetanus shot and antibiotics to both. To the doctor he’d said, “Only a flesh wound. No big deal.”

  He hadn’t spoken to Kate since those few words when they arrived at the compound. She could hardly blame him. He wore his warrior face now. Back in professional mode, her protector but only as employee. She bit back the pain that threatened to blow her composure and turned to the two Maya men who waited, ball caps in hand.

  One of them was Arturo. He nodded and smiled.

  When he’d greeted her, pain roughened her voice but she managed a few words of sympathy for Constantino’s death. “Someday... please forgive me.”

  Esteban translated between Arturo and her.

  “No, no, señorita,” Arturo said, walking alongside the stretcher. “The blame goes to the bad men. My brother should not have gone to the cantina with them.”

  Esteban expl
ained that late that night Arturo had gone looking for Constantino and found him dead. He was terrified and thought only of running away. He was packing up when the same men tried to jump him, but he fled into the jungle and raced home.

  “Hand me your crutches,” Max said. “Your brother has the only wheel chair but Arturo and Marco will take you to the temple plaza.”

  The two stocky men stepped forward with a folding camp chair. Arturo bowed as she eased onto the canvas seat.

  Chapter Thirty

  The two men carried her—Max trailing in their wake—past scattered stone blocks and excavations in the rocky ground. If Kate could muster even a dollop of good humor, she’d joke about traveling in a sedan chair like Cleopatra. Under other circumstances, Max might laugh. Not now.

  She couldn’t catch sight of much but clumps of trees, but finally the view opened up at the plaza. Her great-grandfather had found it only as a mound of earth with trees growing from the top. The project still had to tackle untouched buildings that could yield information about the ancient Maya. But now the steps forming the temple shape stood out in stark relief in the growing afternoon shadows. Stelae with reliefs and inscriptions lined the entrance. She’d seen Esteban’s photographs but nothing could compare to the actual temple pyramid.

  Her breath caught. Incredible.

  Work had moved quickly so that on Curse Day, the Jaguar Priest could place the figure of Kizin inside. And stop the curse. Now there’d be no ceremony. And the curse? Who knew?

  Then why were so many people at the temple? A throng of villagers and project staff. Foolish of her to think she could arrive unnoticed with or without the statue.

  Where was her brother? She searched the crowd. Maya women wearing flower-embroidered dresses and blossoms in their hair. Men in collared shirts and dark trousers. The restoration team in clean shorts, not work clothes smeared with limestone dust and dirt.