by Ann Charles
“Angélica, don’t go. Let me explain.”
She turned back to him feeling numb, empty. “What’s to explain? You came down here to find Dr. Hughes, baiting my father with an article in a national publication as a means to get me to let you stay on my site. Does that pretty much sum up the truth?”
He growled out a sigh. “Yes, but there’s more to it.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot the ending: You decided to seduce me to get information about Jared, whom you have some kind of hard-on for apparently based on that shit over there about his past. As a bonus, I instigated sex with you, which ensures you can continue to stay at my dig site as long as you want to get what you need.”
His face grew stony. “Now you’re confusing me with your ex-husband.” He closed the gap between them. “Look closely, sweetheart, my eyes are hazel, not blue. The name’s Parker not Steel, and I don’t sleep with women for personal gain.”
“They’re green,” she snapped back.
His forehead wrinkled. “What?”
“Jared wears blue contacts, but his eyes are really green.” She nudged her chin at the papers by his cot. “Didn’t your digging through the past tell you that? Some private dick you are.”
His eyes narrowed. “How long has he worn blue contacts?”
Who cared? This was an absurd turn in their fight. “He never told me. Why don’t you go ask him? I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about between all I’ve shared and what you have there on the floor.”
“Don’t walk away like this, Angélica. Stay and let me explain my version of it all.”
At the moment she felt like spitting fire at him. That wasn’t exactly conducive to listening. She needed to go somewhere and get herself back under control.
For now she slipped into her boss-mode, emotionally detaching. “Change of plans. You’re working with Dad tomorrow.” She needed to think of Quint as a crew member, that was all. “I appreciate your hard work today and the extra time you’ve put in over the last couple of weeks. I’d be happy to pay you for your time and help with our endeavors here, including the bonus I offered the rest of the crew.”
He glared at her. “I don’t want your fucking money.”
“My fucking money?” Her smile was icy, like her heart at the moment. “I wasn’t offering to pay you for the orgasms. You owed me those for manipulating information from me. We’re even now. Consider all debts paid.”
Without another word, she tore off his shirt, wadded it up, and whipped it at his face. Scooping up her tank top on the way out, she walked out into the dark jungle naked as a jaybird and didn’t give a shit who saw her. With her dignity left in shreds, she had nothing left to lose.
* * *
“Wake up, sleepyhead. I need to show you something.”
Quint lifted his head from his desk and slowly opened his eyelids. Juan stood over him smiling.
“Good morning,” Juan said in a way too chipper voice.
Quint grunted and dropped his head back onto Steel’s open yearbook. “What time is it?” he mumbled, his lips brushing a page of the book as he spoke.
“Dr. Hughes time.”
“What do you mean?” Had Angélica paid her father a visit after she’d stormed off last night? He checked to see if Juan had a bat or two-by-four or something to beat the crap out of him.
Juan backed toward the tent flap. His eyes practically sparkled with excitement. “I’ve found something I believe will interest you.”
Quint stood up. Was this some weird kind of post-traumatic fight dream? “What are you talking about?”
“Follow me.” Juan stepped out through the flap.
Quint grabbed his shoes from the floor and headed after him but then remembered the yearbook and paused.
“Hurry up,” Juan whispered loudly from outside. “Before someone sees us.”
Hell, he’d probably be only a couple of minutes. Quint headed out after him. Juan was already crossing the plaza.
“Wait up, damn it.” Quint slipped on his tennis shoes without untying them. He jogged up next to Juan. “What’s so interesting that you couldn’t have waited to show it to me in another hour when the sun is actually up?”
“You’ll see.” Juan led him toward the Dawn Temple.
Quint’s feet slowed. There was nothing like starting his day in a claustrophobic death trap, especially after staying up half the night trying to figure out how to fix this Chernobyl-level disaster with Angélica. After he’d gotten sick of stewing on the trouble he’d made with her, he’d tried to come up with a reason why Steel’s school records listed his eyes as blue instead of green. Was it as simple as he had worn colored contacts even then? In the end, he’d bombed on both fronts and passed out at his desk.
The rich pink hues in the sky and patches of early morning haze added a surreal air to the temple as they approached. Taking a deep breath as he climbed the first few steps, Quint caught a whiff of damp musty air coming from the dark passageway in front of him, cranking up his anxiety.
At the entrance, Juan handed him a flashlight.
Quint raised an eyebrow. “Should I have brought my camera?”
“Not this time.”
He followed Juan back to the chamber they’d been clearing, the one with the hat.
“Do you see it?” Juan asked.
Quint followed the beam of light from Juan’s flashlight. “See what?”
“There, about two feet above that cube-shaped rock.”
The only things Quint saw were some glyphs carved into the wall. “What exactly am I looking at?”
“Hold on.” Juan pulled Dr. Hughes’ journal out from under his shirt, opening it to the back page. “This.”
Quint frowned down at the drawing of the head variants. What was the big deal? Juan had mentioned that these could be found all over this temple. “I must need some coffee, because I don’t understand why you think this is so important.”
Juan pulled his glasses out of his pocket and slid them on. He stood next to Quint, holding the book out in front of them. “Last night, I was reading through Dr. Hughes’ journal and noticed that he mentioned something about the number of loose stones with glyphs on them that he had found in this temple. That got me thinking about this drawing of his in the back of the journal. You see these swirls here and here,” he said, pointing them out.
Quint nodded.
“These aren’t typical with the majority of the head variants I’ve seen around here. As a matter of fact, I’ve only seen them once to date.”
“Where?”
Juan pointed the beam of light back at the glyphs on the wall. “There.”
Squinting, Quint took a step closer. “How can you see that much detail from here?”
“I couldn’t. Before I came to get you, I climbed over the rocks to take a closer look.” He shut the journal. “I noticed them yesterday when we were all working in here, but it didn’t strike me as anything unusual until I took another look at this journal.”
“What do you think this means?”
Juan shrugged, taking off his glasses. “Maybe I’m taking a big leap here, but I think there’s something in this room.”
“You mean an artifact? Or something having to do with your wife’s shell theory?”
“No.” He stuffed his glasses in his pocket, his face solemn. “Something that was important to Dr. Hughes.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Nohoch tata: An esteemed elder.
The sweat trickling down Quint’s spine had nothing to do with the already thick humidity in the Dawn Temple this morning.
Dr. Juan García was no fool. Quint should have known better than to think he was pulling the wool over Juan’s eyes.
“You know why I’m here, don’t you?” Quint asked.
“You’re trying to find out what happened to Dr. Hughes.”
Finally he was free! Relief made him feel ten pounds lighter. He’d been hiding behind that sort-of lie for way too long. Now to dig himself o
ut of the hole with Juan … and eventually Angélica, if that were even possible. “I can explain.”
“No need.”
He studied Juan. “There isn’t?”
“We all have our secrets, and most of us have perfectly good reasons for keeping them.”
“But I hid the truth from you and your daughter.”
“I hid the truth, too,” Juan said. “Remember how Angélica didn’t know you existed until you showed up here ready to write an article that you and I had agreed on over a month before? I had plenty of time to talk to her about it, but I opted for keeping it from her.”
“I hadn’t thought about it.” He’d been too busy feeling the noose around his own neck since arriving and finding out that Angélica was not only here but also running the site.
“And don’t you think I realized that you believed I was the ‘Dr. García’ in charge down here when we were planning your visit? I could have made it clear that my daughter was the head archeologist, but I didn’t. I kept the truth from both Angélica and you.” Juan laughed quietly. “Hell, I think Teodoro is the only one who knew everything that was going on.”
“What about Pedro?”
“I told him all about it when he flew me to Cancun to get my tooth fixed. He warned me that I was going to catch hell from her, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I’m sure you’ve noticed that she can be very inflexible sometimes.”
He’d actually found her very flexible in certain situations. Amazingly so. Quint glanced down at his feet, trying to shut down all thoughts of Juan’s daughter in her birthday suit. “Yep. Inflexible.”
If Juan picked up on the direction of Quint’s thoughts, he didn’t show it. “But if all ends well between you two, it’ll have been worth it.”
After last night’s blow up in his tent, Quint wasn’t sure if she’d be talking to him again, let alone considering any future that included him. Angélica must not have mentioned anything about their fight to her father.
“But you’d better have a heart-to-heart talk with her before long. If she finds out from someone else, she’ll—”
“Have me castrated.” Too late, his nuts had already been left on the chopping block.
Juan chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“I have a feeling I’ve waited too long already.”
“If she likes you,” Juan patted him on the shoulder, reassuring, “she’ll get over it.”
“You sure about that?”
“Well, maybe not right away, but she has a good head on her. I’ve always found that if I give her a little time and space, she forgives. She doesn’t always forget, but time is the great healer, my mama used to always say.” He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “Now how about we haul some of these rocks out of here and see if the block with that glyph is as loose as it looks. I’ll go get the wheelbarrow.”
Juan paused to pick up a flashlight lying next to the doorway and tossed it to Quint, and then headed out into the dark passageway.
A dusty, sweat-filled hour later, they’d made it a few feet closer to the head variants.
While Juan went out to dump another load of ceiling pieces, Quint rolled off more stones from the pile. Dust filled the chamber thanks to their sifting and moving rocks that had been collecting dust for Lord knew how long. He’d stripped off his T-shirt shortly after they had started, wrapping it around his head as a dust mask.
He stood, stretching his aching back. His stomach rumbled wondering where in the hell breakfast was. It had been spoiled by María’s food for the last couple of weeks.
Checking his watch, he frowned. What was taking Juan so long? He must have taken a piss break. Or maybe someone had come looking for him, someone with wavy auburn hair and a pickax to bury in Quint’s back. The same someone he kept trying not to think about and failing miserably—and feeling miserable because of her, too.
Rocks. He had to focus on the rocks.
Bending down, he hefted another large piece toward what Juan was calling the loading area. As the dust settled, what sounded like a muffled shout came from the dark passage outside of the chamber entry.
Quint stood, aiming the beam of light into the shadowed hall. “Juan?”
Silence.
He picked his way down off the pile and leaned out into the passageway. “Juan?” he called a bit louder.
Dust particles were the only things moving.
A stone rattled further down into the darkness.
Shit, he hated these creepy old temples.
“Juan?” When there was no answer, he headed toward fresh air, figuring he’d start there and then go on to the mess tent for the food María had planned on leaving behind. At the least he needed coffee before his head started pounding from a lack of caffeine.
He followed the tire tracks up the narrow tunnel toward the temple entrance and around a couple of corners. Up ahead, he caught a glimpse of something white on the floor next to the overturned wheelbarrow.
Something white … wasn’t Juan wearing white?
His blood chilled. What had happened? Heat stroke? Heart attack? What?
“Juan?” He raced toward him dropping down beside him. “Dr. García?” One of the older man’s legs looked funny, then he realized it was bent the wrong way. The coppery smell of blood was in the air, a pool growing under Juan’s broken leg.
Oh, no. More blood ran down Juan’s neck.
No, no, no, no, no. Not Juan.
He shined his flashlight on Juan’s oddly bent leg. What the fuck was he going to do? He couldn’t move Juan, not without … Teodoro! The healer was leaving this morning.
Quint started to get up, figuring if he hurried—wait! First he needed to make sure of something.
Lifting Juan’s limp wrist, he searched for a pulse.
* * *
Angélica sat alone in the empty mess tent, memories of what had been only weeks ago moved like ghosts through her thoughts. The rumbling of voices, banging of pots and pans, occasional shouts and bouts of laughter.
She could still smell María’s panuchos, but probably because Teodoro’s thoughtful wife had barely slept last night. Instead she’d been in here preparing food for those they were leaving behind. Angélica knew this for a fact because after she’d stormed back into her tent and put on some clothes, she’d come to the mess tent to grab some cold coffee and sit in the dark alone and think.
Only it hadn’t been dark, and she hadn’t been completely alone. To keep her mind off the soap opera that was now her life, she’d joined María in the kitchen, sitting on the counter as she had off and on over the years when she needed someone to “mother” her. María had fed her warm tortillas while catching Angélica up on her family’s lives, some local village gossip, and the elders’ weather predictions for this year. By the time María had gone off to pack, Angélica had eaten too many tortillas and drunk enough coffee to stay up for a week. She’d done everything she could to keep her mind off what had happened back in Quint’s tent.
She had nearly teared up when she’d waved María and Teodoro off. It wasn’t so much saying “goodbye,” since she’d see them again in a week or so. It was everything else that had gone wrong piled on top of feeling worn thin.
Her anger from last night had ebbed back to sea, leaving her stupid heart flopping around on the sand.
Damn Quint for lying to her.
Double damn him for making her feel things for him, things that ran deeper than attraction and lust.
Now as she stood alone in the dark tent listening to ghosts, she realized how foolish she’d been from the start about Quint. Hindsight being 20-20 and all of that bullshit.
“Angélica!” Quint yelled, racing past the mess tent entrance like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels, heading in the direction of her tent.
Speak of the devil. Only this devil wasn’t wearing a shirt? What had him so full of energy this morning? It couldn’t be coffee because she’d drunk it all and hadn’t
made any more yet. She stepped outside to see what had him all excited.
“Parker!” She followed his path toward their tents. “Where are you?”
He burst from her tent flap and rushed over to her, his face pale, eyes wide. “You have to come with me right now.” Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her toward the plaza.
She yanked free of his grip. “What in the hell is your problem? And where’s your shirt?”
He turned back. “You can kill me later for what happened last night and everything else.”
“I’d prefer to torture you instead.”
“Fine, torture away, but later. Right now you need to come with me and hurry.” He latched onto her forearm and practically dragged her behind him.
As she struggled to get free, she noticed a streak of blood on his arm. Blood? Why was there bl—
She dug in her heels and pulled him to a stop. “What is it? Did Pedro reinjure his leg?”
“It’s not Pedro.” His eyes had a haunted look when they met hers. “It’s your father.”
“No,” she whispered. Her knees gave out in a blink.
Quint caught her before she crumpled to the ground.
She looked up at him through watery eyes. “Please, not my dad.”
* * *
“Pedro said to tell you the helicopter’s ready,” Quint told Angélica as he climbed the top step leading up to the Dawn Temple. He looked over at Fernando, who stood frowning out at the surrounding jungle. “It’s time to go.”
The sun had crested the horizon less than an hour ago, but the day already felt old. It was hard to believe that a few hours ago, he’d been chasing after Juan up these very steps, dreading going inside.
Angélica kneeled over her father, adjusting his bandages, the same as she’d been doing when Quint had left her ten minutes ago.
“Pedro’s waiting for us,” he said, touching her back.
Angélica stood, wiping her eyes. She cleared her throat, her chin quivering slightly as she focused on Fernando and then Quint. “Let’s load him up.”
Quint grabbed one end of the makeshift stretcher as Fernando picked up the other end. He’d carried too many people around this way in the last two weeks. The sooner they all got out of here, the better. The truth about Dr. Hughes didn’t matter anymore. He just wanted to get Angélica to a safe place.