by Ann Charles
Quint caught up to her, fanning his sweat-soaked shirt. “Jesus, it’s hot.” He leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
If he was this hot already, he’d be melting by noon. She pulled out the extra water she’d brought along for him and held it out to him. “Take a drink.”
He looked down at the bottle. “Thanks, but I brought my own.”
“You’ll need more, take it.”
He smirked at the bottle but did as told. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a tad bossy?”
“My father may have mentioned it in passing once or twice.” She watched him tip the bottle back and swallow several gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the dark stubble shadowing his neck. Her gaze drifted down to the front of his shirt, noticing the contours underneath the cotton fabric sticking to him.
She turned away, picking at a loose stone on the opposite wall. It had been a while since she’d thought about a male as anything other than another body to help her achieve her goals for a dig season. If she were going to succeed this year in finding the proof she needed, she’d better keep it that way.
Quint capped the bottle. “I thought you said at breakfast that we’d be working with Alonso today.”
“Change of plans. Fernando needs him.” She flicked on her flashlight and led the way deeper into the temple. “Watch your head.” Quint was about six inches too tall to stand up straight in the tunnel. The ancient Maya people were mostly Angélica’s size or shorter. They hadn’t built these temples for someone of his height or shoulder width.
“Any questions before we get started?” She checked the floor for fresh rat or mouse scat.
“Do you ever work after supper?”
Yes, she did. Alone. Almost every night. But only her father knew about that.
“No. I’m not sure if you remember, but these temples soak up the heat throughout the day. By suppertime, it’ll feel like a sauna in here.”
The sound of footfalls drew close, followed by the smell of cigarette smoke.
“¿Listo?” She checked to see if Esteban was ready to get started.
At his nod, she led them further down the passageway, checking behind her every few feet to make sure Quint and Esteban were following without trouble.
Where the tunnel forked, she glanced at Quint. “That daylight you see up ahead on the right is the main hall. I’ll take you there this afternoon.”
“It’s a date.” He took another swig from the bottle she’d given him.
Did he always flirt on a job? Or was she being oversensitive and making something out of nothing like Harriet in Jane Austen’s Emma? It had been a while since she’d slept with a man. Maybe her radar was rusty.
Moving on, she headed down the cramped corridor on her left. A short way into it, she stopped. “Hold up a minute.” She shined the light on the ceiling and walls, and then studied the hard-packed dirt floor. “Okay, it’s clear.”
“Of what?” Quint’s breath warmed her damp neck.
“Mice, rats, snakes, and bats.” She stepped over a large chunk of limestone that had fallen from the ceiling last month, antsy to put more space between them.
Quint followed. “Are you looking for tracks?”
“Yes, along with waste and food remains.” She waited until Esteban had made it past the stone before moving on.
“What do you do if you see a sign?” His tone had a slight edge to it.
“Step carefully.”
She chuckled at the litany of swear words he grumbled about the jungle and its many wonderful dangers. Quint Parker might be a hindrance, but she found herself smiling more during their trek through the dark temple than she had since the damned curse had shown up.
The corridor opened into a small, rectangular room.
Angélica grabbed two LED flashlights from the far side of the chamber. “Quint and I are taking the tunnel to Sub Chamber F,” she told Esteban, handing him one of the lights, and then motioned to the fresco-covered wall behind her. “You stay here and continue charting.”
Esteban pulled a drawing pad from his pack.
“If you finish with this before lunch,” she continued, “you can take over where Alonso left off yesterday charting the other tunnel.”
He nodded, his gaze darting from one shadow-filled corner to the next.
She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and then handed the other light to Quint. At his wrinkled brow, she motioned for him to follow, trekking through a narrow archway into a separate room. She crossed the stone floor and slid sideways through a wide fissure in the far wall.
He peered into the thick crack after her, holding back. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You call this a tunnel?”
“I call this claustrophobic.” She slid deeper into the tunnel. In her line of work, she couldn’t afford to get fidgety in tight places. “Come on, it’s only like this for about ten feet.”
“Then what?”
She looked back at him. “Then we crawl.”
His eyes widened in alarm. “There’s no way in hell you are getting me in that tiny crack. I’ll wait out here, see if Esteban needs some help.”
No, he wouldn’t. Esteban would fill Quint’s head with tales about Xtabay and curses. Besides, she really wanted him to see what was down this particular rabbit hole.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” she taunted. “Not a big, strong, brave photojournalist like you? I thought you ate adventure for breakfast every morning.”
“That was in my twenties. Adventure gives me heartburn now. I prefer breathing on a regular basis to risking life and limb every other day.”
“Come on, Parker. Don’t be a wuss about this.”
“You can call me all of the names you want, but I’m not going to get stuck and possibly crushed in a temple wall today. It’s not on my agenda.”
“You won’t get crushed, trust me. Maybe just pinched a little with a scrape here and there.” She held out her hand. “Take my hand. I’ll keep you safe.”
He shined his flashlight in her eyes. “Being nice to me now, Dr. García, will not lure me into that snake hole.”
She squinted in the brightness. “I’ve been nice to you since you got here.” She hadn’t sent him back to the village like she’d originally wanted to, had she? Not even after the game he’d played last night.
“Not nice enough to get me in there.”
“Take my hand, Quint.” She spoke soothingly this time, trying a different tactic.
He frowned, lowering the beam of light. “Why do we even need to go in there?”
“Because there’s something I want you to see. Something that will ‘wow’ you.”
“Really?” His gaze strayed down over her profile, stalling on her hips. “It’s been a while since I’ve been ‘wowed.’”
That made two of them. How long was he talking? Was there a wanna-be Mrs. Parker back in the States pining for him? She’d noticed the lack of a ring or tan line, but that didn’t mean he was unattached. Maybe she could figure out a way to hint at …
What in the hell are you doing?!
Shit.
Double shit.
This couldn’t happen. Not now. Not here. Not with Jared on site. And certainly not with her father’s future at stake. She needed to diffuse the situation somehow.
Making a show of rolling her eyes, she tried to jest about what had passed between them. “Parker, did you really just go there?”
“Hey, I can’t help it that my mind would rather go there than inside this crack where I could get squished flat.”
“You won’t get squished.” She slid closer to him, stretching her hand out further. “Come on.”
After a few more seconds of hesitation, he took her hand, his palm slick with sweat. He slid sideways inside the fissure with her.
“Before we do this,” he said, dragging anchor until she stopped, “I want to apologize for what I insinuated a moment ago. You being an attractive woman doesn’t give me license to be crude. My mother would have fl
icked my ear for not being a gentleman. I blame testosterone.”
He thought she was attractive? Even in this heat when she was constantly covered in sweat and dirt and grime? Even without a hint of makeup and her deodorant struggling to keep up? Sheesh. He must not have been ‘wowed’ in a really long time.
Appreciating his apology, she joked, “I thought I told you to leave your testosterone back in your tent.” She tugged him onward.
“No, you ordered me to leave my smart ass comebacks behind,” he whispered, as if afraid his voice might bring down the walls. He licked his lips. “Are you sure there aren’t any snakes in here?”
“Mostly.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “You’re not being very comforting.”
“I’m already holding your hand, Parker. What more do you need? Your binkie?”
“How come you got to bring your smart ass comebacks along but I didn’t?”
“Because I’m in charge.”
“Hmmm. Normally I like it when a woman’s in charge.”
Did he? A flurry of pulse-racing images flew through her head until she squelched them.
They slid along in silence for a short time, the end in sight.
“Ever thought of widening this?” he asked.
“Dad isn’t confident the surrounding structure could handle that kind of activity.”
He cursed. “I appreciate your honesty while I’m sardined by this ‘surrounding structure.’”
She chuckled. When he growled in response, her chuckles grew into giggles.
“I am so going to pay you back for this, Angélica.”
The tunnel widened at the bottom and narrowed to a slit at the top. Pulling free of his grip, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled through the remaining few feet, ordering him to follow. He obeyed, cursing again.
She took the flashlight from Quint as he scrambled out of the crevice, helping him to his feet.
Holding up the light for him to see the walls encircling them, she smiled with pride. “What do you think?” The sight before her still made her heart quicken.
“That I should never let you talk me into squeezing through cracks again.”
She patted his back. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
“Yes, you will.” He wiped the sweat from his face with the bottom of his shirt, giving her a glance at his bare stomach.
Turning away, she made a point of searching the floor with the beam of light until she was sure he’d lowered his shirt. When she looked back at him, he was studying the walls with a perplexed expression.
“What is this place?” He ran his hand over one of the hundreds of glyphs surrounding them.
“A tomb.”
He moved over to the grave-sized hole she’d excavated last week. “Are there other tombs in this temple?”
“Nope. The Temple of the Crow was not made for burial tomb purposes.” She handed the flashlight back.
He took it. “You’re contradicting yourself.”
No, she was having fun with him, adding some excitement to her show-and-tell presentation. “This isn’t the Temple of the Crow.”
He frowned. “Now you’re losing me.”
“That crack we just slid through was the outer wall to a temple built centuries before the Temple of the Crow.”
“You mean they built over the top of this one?”
“Yes.” She pulled a trowel and paintbrush out of her tool pouch and handed the paintbrush to him.
“Are there other temples inside of this one?”
“I doubt it. This temple isn’t big enough to encompass another. The Temple of the Water Witch is another story.”
He fanned the brush. “How many are under that one?”
“So far two, maybe three. But don’t even think about nosing around in there without me.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it, Quint.” She emphasized her feelings with a pointed glare. “These temples are dangerous.”
“Isn’t that sweet?” His hazel eyes crinkled in jest. “You being so concerned about me and all.”
“Yeah, well I don’t need an injured photojournalist messing up my dig season schedule.” She shot him a quick grin to take the sting out of the truth.
“Ah, shucks. I bet you say that to all of the photojournalists who sweat their asses off with you inside of these death traps.”
“Nope. Just the ones who need their hands held while squeezing through dark tunnels.”
His laughter filled the small burial chamber. “You know what, Dr. García? I like you.”
“Splendid.” She hid the flame set alight by his words behind a shield of sarcasm. “I’ll be sure to write your name over and over in my diary tonight, dotting the i in ‘Quint’ with a little heart.”
His teeth looked even whiter with his beard stubble darkening his cheeks and chin. The shadows added an aspect of ruggedness to his face that made her stomach do loop-de-loops. “I had no idea you’d be so clever, Angélica.”
The way he phrased that gave her pause. “What do you mean you had no idea?”
He looked down at the brush in his hands, fiddling with it. “It’s just that from the moment I arrived you’ve been so serious. I thought maybe you were always like that. Serious, I mean.”
No, he’d meant something else, but Angélica could tell he wasn’t going to cough it up at the moment. She decided to let it go, but her guard stepped back into place, quelling their banter. “Do you have any other questions about this sub chamber?”
“Yes.” He seemed anxious to return to the past. “Why did they build over the top of the old temples?”
She dropped her tool pouch on the mound of dirt next to the shallow hole. “There are several theories around regarding the subject. Lack of space, easier than knocking down the old one, a desire not to disturb the dead buried in the older temples.” She stepped into the hole, glancing across the floor at him.
“So what exactly are you and your father trying to accomplish here?” He extracted a small digital camera from his back pocket, taking several pictures.
“That’s too broad of a question.”
He looked over at her, his eyes soft and glittering in the low light. “Okay, what are you doing here?”
Finishing what her mother started. “I work for the Mexican government.” She picked up her trowel and carefully dug in the dark soil at the bottom of the hole.
“Have you always?”
“No. I used to work for the same university as Dad a long time ago.”
He pocketed his camera and moved closer, his khakis rustling as he squatted next to the hole. “Why did you leave?”
Jared’s face popped into her head, followed by a chest burning flash of irritation as usual. “It wasn’t working out.”
“Did it have anything to do with Dr. Steel?”
She stopped and stared up at him, not liking the direction this was going. “How about we stick to the past?”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “I thought I was.”
“Your job is to ask about what we do here at the site.” She mopped the sweat from her brow with her forearm. “Not about my personal history.”
“Curiosity got the best of me. Sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Now get busy brushing off those glyphs on that wall over there. We need to make impressions of them when we’re done in the other chamber.”
Quint brushed in silence for a while as she dug.
“You know,” he said, interrupting her fantasy of telling Jared off for using her father to worm his way onto her dig site and then shipping the lying bastard out of there. “I bet readers would love to learn more about how a young woman from the States wound up running a Maya dig site.”
“I’m not that young.”
“Young-ish then.”
“Exploit someone else’s life, Parker. Mine’s off limits.”
“What about your mom?”
“Hers is, too.”
“Even off the record?”<
br />
“Definitely.” She didn’t trust a journalist ever to be truly off the record.
“Did you know Dr. Hughes?”
She blinked in surprise. That had come out of nowhere. “He was before my time.”
“Did your father know him?”
She stopped digging. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking pictures of things in here for that article?”
He shrugged. “I already took a few. The lighting isn’t the best.”
“What about notes? Don’t journalists carry around a pad of paper? Where are your notes?”
He tapped his head. “I keep them up here.”
Fine! Climbing out of the hole, she dusted off her pants. “Take this,” she grabbed his hand and slapped the trowel into his palm.
“What am I doing with it?”
“Experiencing the joy of digging firsthand. And while you dig, I’ll explain the Mexican government’s process for finding, naming, documenting, excavating, and profiting from archaeological ruins.”
“Then what?” he asked, gripping the trowel.
“Lunch.”
His gaze narrowed. “Are you going out of your way to vex me, or does it come naturally to you?”
Angélica smiled. “Dig.”
* * *
Later that afternoon, Quint leaned against the passage wall in the outer Temple of the Crow. After working in the heat and humidity all morning and then swimming through it again following lunch and a quick siesta, he felt like he’d been wrung out and hung up to drip—there was no way he’d dry in this sauna.
“We’re not going back in that tomb are we?” He didn’t even bother wiping away the sweat rolling down from his temple. More would follow as soon as he sopped it up.
Angélica shook her head. “It’s too hot in there now. As the day goes on, we work our way from inner chambers to outer ones.”
“Thank the Maya gods for that. I had visions of you shoe-horning me back through that damned crevice.”
“Listen, I may be bossy, but I’m not a slave driver. We’re not building Egyptian pyramids here.” She sipped from her bottle of water while frowning at him. “If you have a heat stroke where I can’t pull you out quick, we’re in trouble.”