by Ann Charles
Angélica frowned at her dad. “What did you tell him?”
Juan held up his hands. “It wasn’t me, I swear.” His eyes sparkling with excitement, he turned to Quint. “We found some glyphs that read like a curse and—”
“We found some glyphs that tell a story from the past,” Angélica spoke over him loud and clear, as if giving an announcement at a podium. “And some people have jumped to the conclusion that it sounds like a curse. However, I’m sure you all will soon realize that it’s not a curse.” She peered around the room, her hard expression hammering her point home. “Just a few mishaps.”
The sound of silverware scraping across tin plates and the rumbling of voices started up again as if on cue, but Quint could feel the tension still in the air. Maybe he could get Angélica to show him these curse glyphs, find out what the big deal was about.
“Time will tell.” Juan’s voice was low, meant for only those at their table.
“Yes, it will,” Angélica challenged back, and then leaned over the table and kissed her father on the cheek. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to my tent to look up a few things.” Carrying their dirty plates, she negotiated through the other tables while bidding her crew “goodnight,” set the plates on the counter, and left the tent.
This was it, Quint’s opportunity to catch Angélica alone and see what she knew about the site’s past. “Excuse me,” he said to her father and Fernando and then rushed after her. “Dr. García,” he called, catching sight of her white shirt in the shadowy darkness outside the tent. She held still as he jogged up to her. “Can I ask you something?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Your question.” She crossed her arms, waiting.
Sheesh, porcupines were less prickly. He formed his sentences carefully, trying not to be too obvious. “I like to begin an article with a little history of the location I’m covering. Give the readers some background, you know.” He paused to see if she’d allow him to continue or shut him down before he got out of the gate.
A cricket chirped in the grass. She remained silent.
Crossing his fingers behind his back, he continued. “What was the first thing to be excavated at this site?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t working here at that time.” Her tone said that was it. End of story. Goodnight. “I’ll see you at breakfast, Mr. Parker.” She took off toward her tent, the beam of her flashlight bouncing with each step.
If she thought she could get away that easily, she didn’t know with whom she was messing. He hadn’t made it this far in his career by giving up when faced with a brick wall—or a closed-lipped, hard-headed female. Determined to get some answers, he fell in step beside her. “So, was it your father who first began the work here?”
“No.” She picked up her pace. “My dad and mom took over eight years ago.”
“Do you know when the first excavation took place?” When she didn’t answer, he added, “Even an estimate?”
She halted in front of a large tent, her eyes sparkling in the light of the half-moon. A small breeze rustled the trees behind her, sounding like distant applause. Quint held his ground, waiting.
“It was thirty years ago.” She finally caved. “From the pictures I’ve seen of the early site, it was so hidden by the surrounding jungle that all temples except the Temple of the Water Witch—the tall one over there,” she pointed to his left, “were unrecognizable as they stand today.”
Quint followed the direction of her finger, imagining what the site must have looked like in the beginning. Dr. Hughes must have spent that first season when Quint and Jeff were still in elementary school with a machete in one hand and matches in the other.
“Thirty years of work.” He tested her knowledge.
“Make that eighteen years of work. This site was occupied for ten years, and then went untouched for twelve years until my parents took over.”
“I see.” That answer confirmed a note Mrs. Hughes had scrawled on the back of a picture of Juan from the University of Arizona Alumni magazine. So far, everything checked out with what he already knew. “Why the break in time?”
“There was a change of caretakers.”
“Do you know who was working here before your parents?” There, he’d asked. Enough dancing around it.
She looked up at the moonlit sky for several heartbeats as if waiting for the answer to flash across it. “Dr. Henry Hughes.” She unzipped the tent flap. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning at six,” she called out, stepping inside and zipping the tent closed in his face.
Well, all right then. That was it from the bossier of the two Dr. Garcías for tonight, apparently. Shaking his head at what he was up against with her, Quint headed back to the mess tent and Angélica’s much friendlier father. Why couldn’t Juan be in charge here? Why did it have to be her, with her watchful eyes and tight lips?
His fingers were crossed that Juan felt like being more of a chatterbox than his daughter, or Quint would be stuck down here until the rains started and the dig season closed for the year.
* * *
The next morning dawned hot and muggy. He rolled out of the cot and stretched, his back protesting the current sleeping conditions.
He slipped on a clean pair of khakis. As much as he hated wearing pants in this heat, he’d learned long ago from Dr. Hughes about the chiggers down here and how they liked to crawl up inside pant legs. Dr. Hughes always stuffed his pants inside his boots—something he’d learned in the service.
“Damn you, Henry Hughes,” he said, frowning at his stubble-covered jaw in a small mirror hanging on the wall over the cot. “Where did you go?”
Last night had been a bust. Juan and Fernando had both been gone when Quint had returned to the mess tent, so he’d given up and returned to his tent to go through more of the documents Mrs. Hughes had left behind after her death.
He hadn’t found anything revealing, only more useless drivel about Steel. He’d gone to bed feeling defeated, but while tossing and turning in the night, he’d come up with a new plan of attack. At first he’d considered using good old fashioned charm, but Angélica had quickly put the kibosh on his attempt at light flirting last night during supper.
Instead of charm, he decided to try to earn her trust through hard work and following her rules over the next few days. Then he’d start asking questions about her education, her experiences, her theories. In his travels he’d learned something about people—most liked to talk about themselves, share their adventures in life. Listening had always opened doors for him, especially with women. And underneath her no-nonsense, professional exterior, Dr. Angélica García was very much a female.
He swiped at a bead of sweat rolling down from his temple. Christ, just getting dressed made him leak. “Stupid humidity.” He tugged his T-shirt over his head, finger-combed his hair, and tied his hiking boots. Twenty years ago, he’d grouched plenty about working in the heat. Dr. Hughes had always chuckled at him, told him to suck it up and take it like a man.
He unzipped his tent and stepped out, looking across the site at the early morning haze blanketing the temples. Without a doubt, he knew this was going to be a long hard day. He had a gut feeling Angélica would make sure of it, pushing him to prove his merit and not be a burden to the rest of her crew. There was no way in hell he’d let her win a battle of wills.
A warm, sticky breeze fluttered across his face, leaving another layer of sweat in its wake.
He cursed. Today’s weather report: increasingly humid with recurring blasts of wither-his-balls-to-raisins heat. His deodorant would be vapor by nine, his clothes soaked through by ten.
It was time to suck it up and take it like a man.
But first there was an enticing smell coming from the mess tent that he needed to investigate.
The sound of flatware clanging on tin plates greeted him inside the tent flaps. The hum of conversation was quieter this morning, more like a series of grunts with a few low mu
rmurs between bites. Angélica and her father sat across from each other at the same table as the night before, only Juan’s back was to the exit today. Fernando was there as well this morning, holding down the bench beside Juan.
Quint saluted Angélica’s wary stare and then followed one of her crew members up to the counter. Minutes later, he joined her and set his plate on the table next to her breakfast remains. Eyeing the stack of tortillas covering a steaming mound of eggs and peppers soaked in the same orange sauce from his panucho last night, he licked his chops.
“Good morning.” He greeted one and all and picked up his fork. “Who left the heat on overnight?” he asked, stealing one of Dr. Hughes’ favorite corny lines. “This place is cooking.”
Juan grinned. “I like this guy already,” he told his daughter. “We should invite him to our ranch sometime.”
Angélica handed Quint a napkin. “You’re late,” she started in on him right off.
“Yes, but only fashionably.” He glanced around. Everyone else at the table was finishing up or done and working on their coffee.
After a loud yawn, Juan said, “Cut him some slack, gatita. He’s probably jetlagged yet.”
“He came to see how a dig site works.” She wrapped her hands around her coffee mug, strangling it. “At my dig site, we don’t have time to sleep in. There’s too much work to be done before the rainy season hits.”
She would make a great drill instructor. Quint could picture her striding through the tents at the break of dawn, blowing on a bugle. Ignoring the temptation to provoke her with a smartass comeback, he stayed true to his trust-building plan. “I’ll eat fast.”
Digging in, he listened as she, her father, and Fernando made plans for the day.
In the midst of detailing which crew she wanted working with Fernando, Angélica stopped mid-sentence.
Then she gasped.
Quint paused in his rush to clear his plate. He glanced her way. Her eyes were wide in surprise. As he watched, her cheeks flared bright red.
“What in the hell is he doing here?” She spoke low through clenched teeth.
Quint followed her line of sight and nearly choked on his mouthful of eggs when he saw who stood just inside the entrance.
Jared Steel.
The pompous asshole.
What was he doing down here?
A drop of sweat rolled down Quint’s back as he watched Jared make his way toward them through the crowd of stares.
Dressed in a crisp, cream linen shirt and tan khakis, Steel looked fresh from one of the fancy Tiki bars over in Cancun. The asshole held his chin high, acting as if he owned the joint. Charm oozed from the over-polished smile he aimed at his ex-wife as he approached their table.
Quint swallowed the bile that had crawled up his throat at the sight of Dr. Hughes’ old grad student. Some things in this wretched place never changed—not the heat, not the bugs, and apparently not the vermin.
“Hello, darling,” Jared winked down at Angélica. “Mind if I join you for breakfast?”
She shoved to her feet, bumping Quint’s shoulder in her haste. If looks could blast someone to smithereens, Jared would be a pile of smoking ashes.
“Mexico’s full.” Her upper lip wrinkled like one of Pancho Villa’s banditos. “Go home, Jared.”
Hot damn! Quint bit back a cheer from her corner of the ring. The gloves were off and she’d already finished with her warm up. There would be no hiding her frustrations behind a professional veneer today.
“Dr. Steel,” Juan interrupted the Mexican standoff, smiling so wide it was a wonder his ears didn’t pop off. He extended his hand, shooting his daughter a warning glance. “What a surprise to see you down here.”
More like a kick to the gut. Quint pushed his plate away. This quick trip to the Yucatán was turning into a thorny journey back in time.
Steel shook Juan’s hand. “A good surprise, I hope.”
Angélica grunted. Or maybe that was a swear word pushed out between locked jaws.
Quint seconded her response. Steel’s appearance smashed his backup plan flat. It was only a matter of minutes until the jackass blew Quint’s cover and filled everyone in about his history at this site. As pissed as Angélica was thanks to this morning’s surprise visitor, she would have Quint’s head on a pike for playing twenty questions with her last night. At the least, she’d send him packing by noon.
“A wonderful surprise.” Juan was still playing referee. “We’re thrilled you took the time out of your busy schedule to pay us a visit.” Juan scooted over to make room for Steel between himself and Fernando.
Quint sipped his coffee, glaring over the rim of the cup at Steel as he settled onto the opposite bench seat. Why had Mrs. Hughes been so fascinated with the arrogant dickhead?
“So, Dr. Steel.” Juan gestured at his daughter to sit back down. “Is this just a quick check-in visit on your way to one of the university’s other sites to the south of us?”
“Actually, it’s my final stop before heading home. I saved the best for last.”
“Don’t get comfy. You’re not staying long.” Angélica was still standing looking ready to pounce.
Jared tsk-tsked his ex-wife. “I thought I’d stay and help out until the dig season is over.”
“You thought wrong,” she bit out.
“Your father mentioned you were short-staffed this year due to lack of funding.”
“We’re fine. Go home.”
“Angélica,” Juan chastised.
“Absolutely not,” she told her father. “We already have one visitor. Two’s a crowd.”
“Do you find the idea of me working here with your father for a month so appalling?” Steel reached for her hand.
She pulled away before he could catch her. “Incredibly.”
“You didn’t used to feel that way about spending time with me, darling.”
“What do you want, Jared?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you really down here with the lowly commoners?” She emphasized the last part as if referencing something he’d said before.
Steel frowned up at her. “Fine, if you want to skip the niceties, I’ll play along.” He looked at Juan. “The university wanted me to come down and personally oversee your work. The decision on whether to continue your funding for this research project will be based on my findings.”
The smile Juan had been sporting slipped. “What? You’re kidding. You mean all of the paperwork I turned in on the scientific importance of Maya architectural styles and know-how that we catalogued down here wasn’t enough?”
Quint lowered his cup to the table, an epiphany hitting him. So that was why Juan had invited Quint to come down even though he had known it would piss off his daughter. This article in a well-known and respected national publication could very likely improve the chances of Juan receiving continued funding.
“The thing is,” Angélica said, “I don’t remember the university petitioning for additional archeologists to be allowed at the dig site this year.”
Steel shrugged. “They must have overlooked it.”
She leaned forward, both fists on the table. “Overlooked my ass, Jared. You know damned well you need permission from the Mexican government to have another archeologist at this site. I put that clause in the university’s contract myself to control who could work down here and how often. If you think you can start sniffing around on these premises without my permission, you’d better be prepared to deal with the federales.”
“Maybe you should discuss this with your father.” Jared’s tone warned.
“Maybe you should go to—”
“Angélica!” Juan interrupted, all stern and fatherly. “Let’s finish our breakfast and go back to your tent to discuss this.”
She didn’t move except to blink. And grind her molars.
“In private,” Juan added. “Please, gatita. Sit down.”
Quint couldn’t take his eyes off of Angélica. There was something about a woman who could s
pit fire that made a man sit up straight and pay attention.
Several hushed seconds passed before she settled back onto the bench seat next to him. But those green eyes remained locked on her ex-husband. It didn’t take a fortune teller to see a butt-kicking in Steel’s future if he didn’t remove himself from her dig site sooner rather than later.
“Thank you, Juan.” Steel smiled in the face of Angélica’s lack of love. “Now what does an archaeologist have to do to get a cup of coffee around here?”
Juan motioned to María, who had been watching the showdown from the counter next to Teodoro. She waddled into the kitchen.
“Good to see you again, Fernando,” Steel said. “How are the wife and kids?”
Fernando looked at Angélica. At her nod, he answered, “They are well.”
“Glad to hear it.” Steel thanked Teodoro for the coffee he placed in front of him. Then, for the first time since he’d entered the tent, he spared Quint a dismissive look. “I see you have several new faces since I was here last.”
Quint’s shoulders tensed, waiting for the anvil to fall out of the sky.
Gathering up dishes from around the table, Angélica scoffed, “It has been over four years, Jared, since you last graced us with your presence.”
Juan beamed at Quint like he was his favorite student. “We’re fortunate to have a renowned photojournalist interested in our work this season. He’s going to write an article on the work we’re doing. Dr. Steel, I’d like to introduce you to—”
“Quint Parker,” Steel finished for him.
Juan cocked his head to the side. “How do you …”
“I met Mr. Parker years ago. At this very site as a matter of fact.” Steel lifted his cup to Quint in a mock toast. The jerk’s smug expression made Quint want to throw the last dregs of his coffee in Steel’s face.
Angélica paused in the midst of standing. He could feel her gaze boring into him. He peeked at her from the corner of his eye. Wrinkled brow, flared nostrils, death rays shooting from her peepers. Yep, he was dog shit now. It’d only be a matter of time until she scraped him off the bottom of her shoe.