by Ann Charles
Juan lay motionless the whole way to the helicopter, his leg wrapped tight and secured with two boards they’d found inside the temple. Quint winced inwardly remembering the sight. He’d seen broken limbs before but never where the bone actually tore through the flesh.
Immediately upon seeing her father lying by the wheelbarrow, Angélica had jumped into action, cutting off Juan’s pant leg, trying to stop the blood flow with Quint’s shirt while she assessed the damage. It wasn’t until she’d stabilized Juan’s leg and slowed the blood pouring out from the ugly gash on the side of his head that she’d taken a moment to catch her breath.
With Pedro’s help, they hoisted Juan up into the belly of the helicopter. Angélica climbed in beside her father, checking his bandages again.
Keeping his head low under the whirling blades, Quint turned and jogged over to where Steel waited with his bag in hand, looking red-eyed and green around the gills.
“Is he ready to go?” he hollered above the chop of the blades.
Quint nodded. The arrogant turd insisted upon being flown out of here with Juan, claiming the risks were too high now. Quint hoped the sight of Juan’s bloody bandages made Steel sick as a dog all of the way to Cancun.
Steel hoisted his pack. He shot Quint a parting glare before making his way to the chopper. If Quint never saw the son of a bitch again, it would be too soon.
Fernando jogged toward Quint, openly glowering at Steel as they passed. Quint had overheard Angélica’s foreman speaking to her in Spanish earlier, asking if he could strangle Steel. She’d patted his arm, telling Fernando that it was okay, Jared could have the other seat, because she wasn’t going with her father. Pedro would take care of him.
What Angélica didn’t realize was that if she were staying here, Quint wasn’t leaving either. Fernando could take his spot in the back with Juan if she wanted to evacuate as many as the helicopter would carry.
About the same time Fernando reached Quint’s side, Angélica hopped to the ground. She directed her ex to the front seat. Steel grabbed her as she started to walk away, pulling her into an awkward embrace.
Quint took a step toward them, bristling, but Fernando’s hand on his shoulder kept him in line. “She’ll handle it,” Fernando shouted over the commotion.
Angélica shoved away from her ex, delivering a lightning fast blow to his stomach that doubled Steel over. “Get your ass on that helicopter,” Quint heard her yell.
Hot damn, Quint thought. He was lucky she hadn’t laid him out last night in his tent. Then he remembered her shoving him down on the floor, straddling him. On second thought, he was glad she had.
“Told you so,” Fernando said, letting go of him.
Angélica scuttled under the blades toward them. Her yellow T-shirt was streaked with blood. She scowled at Quint as she drew near. “Where’s your bag, Parker?”
“I’m not leaving,” he yelled back.
Her stare nearly left blisters.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you stay, I stay.”
Turning to Fernando, she yelled, “Go get Parker’s bag.”
Fernando glanced from Quint to her and back again, and then he jogged off toward the tents.
When Fernando disappeared around the side of a tent, Quint turned back to the face off with Angélica. “I mean it, woman. I’m not leaving without you.”
Her face darkened. “I am in charge of everyone’s welfare, damn it, including yours.”
Pedro limped up behind her. “I need to get this bird in the air,” he hollered.
“We’re waiting for Fernando to grab Parker’s bag, and then he’ll be flying out with you.” She squinted at Quint, daring him to defy her.
He’d take that dare in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her safe. “Your father told me not to leave your side.” While this situation wasn’t exactly what Juan had been thinking when he’d said that, Quint was pretty sure it still applied.
“Since when do you take orders from him?”
“Quint’s not going,” Pedro said, grabbing Angélica’s arm and pointing toward the copter. “Look. Fernando is.”
While they watched, Fernando climbed up into the belly of the helicopter, hat and bag in hand.
Angélica threw up her arms, her lips moving in what Quint figured was a litany of swear words that used him as the main theme.
Pedro held his hand out. “Parker, always a pleasure.” Quint shook it, and then Pedro pulled him into a rough hug, telling him, “Take care of our girl. Juan and I are counting on you.” When he stepped back, Quint gave him two thumbs up.
Pedro put his arm around Angélica and walked her a few feet toward the helicopter. He leaned down and said something in her ear. She glanced back at Quint, shaking her head. Pedro laughed and kissed her on the forehead, squeezing her hand before returning to his ride.
While the helicopter lifted slowly into the air, Steel stared down at them, his face as hard and cold as his name. Quint resisted the urge to flip him off.
Within seconds, the whirring blades disappeared over the treetops. As silence spread across the ruins, dust settled around him, sticking to the sweat coating his skin.
His focus lowered to Angélica, who was still standing with her back to him as she stared out over the treetops. She brushed at her eyes, and then turned toward him, looking tired and frail. Her watery gaze pulled at him. He stepped toward her.
She held up her hand, keeping him at bay. “I’ll be okay, just give me a moment.”
He caught her hand and tugged her into his arms anyway. “Stop being so damned tough.” He stroked her back as she sniffed against him. “He’s going to be fine. He’s tough as nails.”
Nodding, she took a deep breath and then stepped back, straightening her shoulders. “You’re right. Just seeing him like that scared the hell out of me at first.”
“Me, too.” He gave her some space and a few more moments to pull herself up by her bootstraps. “Now what?”
She blew out a sigh and then wiped the worry from her face with both hands. “Now we’re back to sex, lies, and complications.”
“Come again?”
“Last night after we had sex and I found out you’d lied to me—”
“Partially lied,” he clarified, “and only by omission.”
“You said you hadn’t told me the whole truth about your search for Dr. Hughes because it was complicated.”
“It was. It still is.”
“Okay, Parker, I’ve calmed down and returned crazy to the closet.” She threw his words from last night back at him. “I’m ready to hear your explanation.”
“Maybe we should get naked again first,” he joked, trying to lighten her mood before they dug into the mess.
Her hard stare didn’t crack even a little. “Nice try, but I don’t think you’re going to want your twig and berries hanging out when I hear the truth.”
“My twig? Come on,” he growled. “For every negative thing you say, you need to say something positive or my self-esteem is going to go jump in a cenote.”
That made the corners of her mouth twitch. “I’ll tell you what, Parker. You answer all of my questions without any more lies, and I’ll give you something nice and positive all wrapped up in a pretty bow.”
“I prefer my pretty bows to be black and manly with skulls on them.” He held out his hand. “Deal.”
Her gaze wary, she took it. “No lies?”
He sobered. “No more lies, Angélica. Ask away.”
“Is there really an article you’re going to write, or was that part of the lie?” She pulled her hand back.
“That’s for real. I called in a favor from an old friend who works for the magazine in order to line up this job.”
She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “Why do you have all of that information on Jared? You’re not some kind of stalker are you?”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have a thing for him?”
Yep, he hated the jerk’s gut
s. “What kind of a thing?”
“You know, a thing-thing.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
He laughed so loud that he scared a pair of jays out of a nearby tree. “No, definitely not.”
“Okay, I was thinking how horrible it would be if you had sex with me to get closer to him.”
“No, Angélica.” He ran his knuckles down her soft cheek. “I had sex with you because I have a major ‘thing-thing’ for you, which has absolutely nothing to do with your ex-husband.”
“Good.” She snorted. “That would be pretty mortifying otherwise.”
“You have nothing to worry about on that front, especially after last night.”
“What does that mean?”
He’d promised no more lies. “It means I want to be ‘wowed’ by you again.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks warmed. “Why do you have that info on Jared?”
He went along with her change of subject. “It all originally belonged to Mrs. Hughes. On her death bed, she told her son, Jeff, that his father had been murdered down here and asked him to seek justice. She said she had pieces of the puzzle tucked away in her house for safekeeping.”
“She’d never mentioned anything about a murder theory until then?”
“Not a word. After her funeral, Jeff started going through his mom’s house, finding boxes of articles and university correspondence regarding his dad, the dig site, and Steel, including photos of your ex tucked away in the attic. At the time, he couldn’t find an explanation for why his mom had been so interested in Steel—if he had information that could help or if he was a suspect. All Jeff could figure out was that it had something to do with Dr. Hughes. So he called me to find out what I remembered about Steel and working with his dad down here, asking if I’d go through the documents. When I couldn’t come up with any answers, he decided to take a trip down here. But I convinced Jeff to let me come in his place.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Jeff has been one of my best friends since we were kids. His parents were good to me, and Dr. Hughes was like an uncle. I owe them for helping me through some tough times when I was a teenager. On top of that, Jeff has a brand new baby. I knew this place from working here years ago and figured I could pull some strings to make my visit down here seem more legit.”
“Is that when you contacted my father?”
Quint nodded. “I found his name on one of the old articles about this site. When I looked him up, I found out that he worked at the same university as Steel. So I called the university, playing the photojournalist angle, and requested more information on this site. They gave me his name. Nobody made any mention of a Dr. Angélica García when I began lining up the itinerary for this trip, not even your father. I thought he was the Dr. García in charge.”
“Not quite.”
“I was surprised as hell when you walked out of the mess tent and your father introduced you.”
“And you didn’t mention the Dr. Hughes angle then because you thought I’d throw you off my dig site.”
“You were spitting fire that morning. I didn’t want to get burned.”
She blew out a breath. “Yeah, well I was having a bad day thanks to that damned curse.”
“And then I arrived.”
“And then you arrived all tall, dark, and nosey with an incriminating camera in tow.”
He chuckled.
“What about the engagement photo?”
“It was part of Mrs. Hughes’ collection. I brought it along because …” he hesitated. The truth. “Okay, this is going to sound stupid, but I brought it because I liked to look at your picture.”
“Shut up.”
“I told you it would sound dumb, but I said I wouldn’t lie anymore.”
She lifted her chin. “If you knew who I was based on my engagement picture, how could you not realize I was an archaeologist?”
“First of all, I’m a lousy detective. Second, I wasn’t investigating you.”
“Did you know we were divorced?”
“Yes. I had read somewhere that Steel was no longer married.”
“And you didn’t put together that my last name is the same as my father’s?”
“García isn’t exactly a unique last name, especially the closer you get to the Mexican border.”
She seemed to weigh that and then nodded. “Why was Mrs. Hughes so focused on Jared?”
“I think she believed he was responsible for her husband’s disappearance. Jeff thinks she was working on proving it when she died.”
Her forehead crinkled. “You realize that if she was right, it would mean I was married to a murderer.”
“Yes, it would.”
She grimaced and then seemed to shake it off. “What was in all of those Express packages you kept getting?”
“Jeff keeps finding more info hidden away. Recently, he sent stuff like Steel’s old high school yearbook and Mrs. Hughes’ private journal, which explains more about her reasoning for believing her husband was murdered.”
“I thought someone said Dr. Hughes died in a plane crash.”
“Maybe he did, but Mrs. Hughes didn’t believe it. In fact, she doubted it so much that she spent the next several years searching for a different answer.”
Angélica blew out a breath, shaking her head. “Damn.”
“I told you it was complicated.”
She stared over at the Temple of the Water Witch for a long moment. When she turned back to him, she asked, “Will you be okay on your own for the day? I need to think about this. Let it soak in.”
He frowned. Juan had told Quint she’d need time and space, but he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of her being alone, not after what had happened to her dad this morning. “Working alone is dangerous.”
“I know. There are several machetes in the supply tent, along with some other makeshift weapons. I suggest you stock up. You and I need to be on alert at all times now.”
“I don’t like this.”
“That’s why I wanted you to leave.”
“I mean I don’t like you being alone. I knew what I was signing up for by not getting on that helicopter, so don’t worry about me.”
“Pedro gave me his flare gun. I also have one of the machetes and a camp knife.”
“Don’t you think we should seriously consider collecting our things and getting out of here? We can contact the federales for help when we reach the village.”
“No.” Her voice grew louder with anger. “I’m pissed as hell at whoever is fucking with me, and I’m not going to let them win. They shouldn’t have hurt my father.”
Quint gaped at her. “Who do you think you are? Jason Bourne? What if there is more than one of them?”
“There isn’t. They would have come at us harder and faster if so.”
“Still …”
She jutted her chin. “Trust me, Parker. I can take care of myself.”
“How? You weigh like a buck twenty-five soaking wet.”
“You’re shortchanging me. I’m heavier than that.”
“Not by much. What if someone sneaks up on you?”
“I’ll be listening for them. Besides, Pedro has taught me a few moves over the years.”
“Like what?” Hitting below the belt wasn’t going to save her with someone as brutal as whoever had attacked Juan.
She held out her arm. “Grab me.”
He did.
In a flash she took hold of him, twirled, wrenched his arm around his back, kicked the back of his knees, and pinned him face down on the dirt while she straddled his back.
“Like this, for example,” she said, settling onto his lower back. “Here we are again with me on top of you, back in the saddle. Sort of like last night, huh, Parker?”
He spit dust out, turning his head so he could see her with one eye. “If this is supposed to be my package of nice positivity, you forgot the pretty bow.”
“You want your bow?” At his nod, she leaned down next to his ear. “You were right, Park
er. The truth was more complicated.” The warmth of her breath on his skin heated him from the outside in. “And as for your self-esteem, you’re not such a bad guy … when you’re not lying to me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Moan: A mythical bird (sometimes identified as an owl) associated with death.
The dig site felt like a ghost town at high noon. All that was missing was a creaky shutter and a lone dust devil.
Actually it was a ghost town, Angélica thought as she swung into the dark, empty mess tent for a lunchtime refill.
Grabbing one of the vegetarian panuchos from the cooler, she filled her water bottle and headed back out into the hot sunshine to find Quint. That damned block in the Temple of the Water Witch wasn’t coming out no matter how hard she tugged. She needed his help to pull it free. The sooner she got through that wall, the sooner she could find the shell and then go check on her father.
Angélica had faith that Pedro was taking good care of her dad, but she wanted to see him up and laughing again with her own eyes. That would ease one of the aches in her heart.
The other ache might be tougher to alleviate since it involved a certain hazel-eyed troublemaker who lived a long way away, traveled for a living, and didn’t have much good to say about spending time in the Yucatán jungle.
She’d spent a lot of time this morning thinking about Quint and not only about why he’d hidden the truth from her. Her explosive rage to his admission last night welled from feelings that went way deeper than a stranger betraying her trust. She liked him. She really, really liked him, and she wanted to keep liking him up close and personal for however long this thing between them played out. But their worlds didn’t mesh.
Long ago, while going through her divorce from Jared, she had accepted that she’d never have the dream life her parents had been lucky enough to experience—a mutual career, a shared dig site, and a love-filled marriage. She’d decided over the lonely years since then that she’d be willing to settle for one of those three with someone who made her smile every day, like her dad had her mom. But she didn’t want to get mired in a long distance relationship. They required too much trust. On top of that, the goodbyes would make the lonely pains sharper, the pining worse.