by Ann Charles
“I’ll let you read what I write before sending it out.”
“No need.” She looked out at the surf. “I trust you.”
He was silent for several heartbeats. Then she felt his lips feather across her cheekbone, hovering near her ear. Tingles of electricity spread from her neck south. “Thanks, boss lady.”
She couldn’t keep from smiling, knowing she’d be feeling those lips all over her skin later when they were alone in her bed once again.
“How was your crew last week?” Quint asked.
“Happy.” She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “They worked hard to help close up shop for the rainy season. I couldn’t have done it without them.” She rested her chin on her kneecaps. “Esteban wanted me to tell you how much he appreciates the jade Quetzalcoatl statue. He carries it in his front pocket inside his sandwich bag along with his rosary beads.”
“The guy I bought it from swears it’s supposed to bring good luck to its owner.” He bounced his bottle off his thigh below the wrap. “Does Esteban still believe in the curse?”
“Only after the sun goes down. He shared a tent with Fernando all week, much to Fernando’s chagrin.”
“What about you?”
She glanced at him. “What about me?”
“Do you still think the curse was a bunch of hogwash?”
She thought about the so-called curse glyph, repeating it aloud, “Yum Cimil, the Lord of Death, rode in on the wind with a traveler.” That big windstorm had hit right before Quint had showed up, and Jared had been right on his heels. Quint was a traveler; Jared was a murderer, a Lord of Death by some accounts.
No, it couldn’t be … or could it?
The skeptic in her kept shaking her head.
Yet here she sat with the traveler, worrying about when the wind would take him away and where it would blow him next.
“Beware the evil wind,” Quint said, with a crackly Vincent Price laugh.
“You know what, Parker?” She drew a heart in the sand, punching an arrow through it. “Between you and me, when I think back to all that happened over the last month, I believe I’ve changed my mind. It was a curse.”
He chuckled. “I must be drunk on moonlight. Did you just say you believe the curse was real?”
“I did and I do. Dad was right, but don’t tell him I said that or I’ll poke you in your sore shoulder.”
“What changed your mind?”
“Look what the wind blew in.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Come again?”
“You. The wind blew you in. You’re the traveler.”
“So, I’m the one who brought the Lord of Death?”
“In a way, sure. Jared upped his game after you arrived, doing everything he could to get rid of you.”
“Including filling me with bullet holes.”
“It was only two, you big baby.”
“And giving me a concussion.”
“Only a mild one. The doctor said you have an amazingly thick skull.”
“All the better to protect my big brain,” he joked.
“I would have chosen a totally different adjective than amazingly.” She dodged his pinches, laughing.
When she stilled, he scooped up a handful of sand and let it slip through his fingers. “Speaking of the Lord of Death, did you find the other shell?”
“The federales gave it to me after I identified Jared’s body.” An echo of Jared’s final scream played through her head, spurring a grimace. It had haunted her nightmares off and on for the last three weeks. She kept waiting for the memory to fade. Maybe with more time, more memory building with Quint.
“Thanks again for saving my life, Angélica.”
“I told you before; you should thank Dad, not me. He’s the one who sent Pedro back to the site with the helicopter. Jared should’ve been more careful when he attacked him. He shouldn’t have let Dad see him first.” She leaned into his warmth, the smell of his cologne made her heady. “All I can figure out is that Jared hadn’t planned on you coming up the passageway so quickly to see what was going on.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “He probably would’ve killed Dad if you hadn’t showed up. Murdered him just like Dr. Hughes and in the same temple, too.”
Quint twirled a tendril of her hair around his finger. “Your father told me that he’d been watching your ex for several days prior to the attack, but he hadn’t been able to pinpoint what it was about Steel that had him sniffing the air.”
“I keep thinking about Dr. Hughes. All of this time, he was right under my nose.”
“That explains why Steel kept such a close eye on your progress, making sure he was placed in charge of Juan’s funding.” Quint’s fingers trailed down over her shoulder, his touch mesmerizing her.
She put her bottle down on the ground, fighting the urge to tackle Quint and take advantage of him right there on the beach.
“The federales found a camp in the jungle about a half-mile from the site.” Her voice sounded huskier than usual to her. “There was an airline ticket dated three weeks prior to the morning we saw him arrive during breakfast. He must have been spying on us during that time and overheard the men talking about the curse. That was all he needed to work on getting rid of my crew.” She sighed in disgust. “And I was too naïve to think he had anything to do with what was happening.”
“Why should you have suspected him? You’d been married to him and not witnessed anything odd.”
“I knew he was an asshole.”
Quint chuckled, lying back. He wadded up her beach sarong and used it for a pillow. “I think that was included on Steel’s birth certificate.”
“You mean Roy Bumm’s birth certificate.” She turned onto her side and lay next to him, settling partway onto his chest. Careful of his thigh wound, she draped one leg over his, wanting more skin on skin contact, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I still can’t believe I was married to a man who wasn’t who he said he was.”
“You were married to a psychopath, Angélica. You’re lucky to still be alive.” Quint glanced down at her fingers. “I keep thinking about how Mrs. Hughes had figured out Steel was Roy Bumm. Too bad she didn’t get the proof she needed before she died.”
“What kind of a teenager kills his best friend and steals his identity?” She finished unbuttoning his shirt, loving the feel of his chest and stomach under her palm. “That’s just twisted.”
“It gets worse. When I called Jeff this afternoon, he told me that Steel’s—I mean Roy Bumm’s—parents were killed when Roy was twelve. Their house caught fire while they were asleep. The police report says he was running around the front yard in his underwear screaming obscenities at the burning house when the cops arrived at the scene, laughing uncontrollably in between calling his father all kinds of names.”
She frowned, stunned. “He told me his parents died in a yachting accident.”
“He lived a life of lies.”
“You think he killed his own parents?”
“I don’t know.” He stroked her cheek, his touch more of a caress. “I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you.”
“You weren’t supposed to jump in front of me like that. If that bullet had gone a few inches lower …” She shuddered.
“It didn’t.”
She crawled on top of him, mindful of his injuries. The heat of his skin soaked through her tankini top. “I didn’t want you to risk your life for me.”
“I couldn’t help myself.”
“Because you rescue damsels in distress.”
“Because you’d lured me in, siren.” He cupped the back of her head, pulling her down to his mouth. His kiss was soft, tender. “I’d crash into the rocks anytime for you.”
She moved against him, luring him again. “I missed you last week, Parker. So did Rover.”
“How’s his ear?”
“It’s fine. He’s a hero now, you know. Everyone gave him a lot of extra attention for helping save the day. He prob
ably put on five pounds thanks to all of the handouts the guys gave him, not to mention the extra veggie-filled panuchos and gordas María kept making for her ‘favorite jabalí.’”
“Are you going to bring him here during the off season?”
“I haven’t decided. I want to see if he can be de-scented and neutered. Some locals keep javelinas as pets according to Teodoro.” She trailed kisses down Quint’s neck, tasting the salt from the ocean air on his skin. “For now, Teodoro is going to keep him at the site. He says he’s going to train him to be a ‘watch-dog’ so he can help guard against any looters.”
“I miss that little javelina.”
“We can go visit him whenever you’re down here.” She hesitated, her breath bouncing off his skin. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about our deal.”
He said nothing.
She swallowed the nervous flutter in her throat. “Pedro said he’d take you anywhere anytime, that he owes you for all you’ve done for Dad and me.” She was babbling and she knew it, afraid of what his silence about their deal meant. “We’re kind of Pedro’s family, you know. I mean, he has a mom, but he spends most of his time with us.”
“Angélica.” He towed her up so they were eye to eye. “I’m not temporary.”
“You say that, but you’re going to leave someday soon.”
“Just for a week or so at a time.”
“You hate it down here, remember?”
His good hand trailed down over her backside, squeezing through her swim shorts. “But I like it right here with you.”
She took a deep breath and gave him the news she’d learned earlier today. “I’ve been asked to take a new position down here. I can continue to work my dig site part of the time. The rest of the year, I’d divide my time between other sites, helping to prep them for the public.”
“Did you take it?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“You hate the jungle.”
His eyelids lowered. She felt his sigh under her as much as heard it. “Leave my dislike for jungle living out of this.”
“There’s more. When I told them I need to think about taking the position, they upped the ante.”
He waited, his face unreadable in the moonlight.
“They told me I could have Dad join me at any of the sites, working with me. They think a father-daughter archaeology team will be a great marketing tool to draw in more tourists.”
“You need to take the job, Angélica.”
“But we’d be spending more time in the jungle.”
“With all of those snakes and bugs,” he said, tracing her face, circling around her mouth.
“And the heat.”
“Hmmm.” His hand traveled south, down along her ribs, his fingers finding her curves. “Do you promise to share your tent with me whenever I’m down here with you?”
“Of course, but I’m a little messy.”
“I’ll hire a tent maid.” His hand slipped inside her swim shorts, spanning her bare hip. “And share your bed?”
She moved against him, reveling in his body’s quick response. “I wouldn’t want you anywhere else, Parker.” She kissed him to show how much she meant that.
“You need to take that new position, Angélica.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ll start buying bug repellent by the case.”
Oh, hell. She could feel herself falling for him, her heart rolling around in a field of flowers, chasing after the butterflies in her stomach. What if he grew tired of the jungle … no, she had to stop letting worry block out the sun.
She nuzzled his Adam’s apple. “I thought maybe you could stay down here more often, writing articles about the different sites where we’re working. I could help you translate them into Spanish to reach a wider market.”
“I like that idea. That reminds me,” he adjusted so she could press closer. “What was the thing you rattled off in the Dawn Temple about calendar cycles when your ex was about to shoot you?”
She thought back for a moment. “You mean 12 Baktun, 19 Katun, 2 Tun, 13 Uinal, and 19 Kin?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s the Maya Long Count calendar date for the day he and I got married.”
“You’re such a clever girl.” He tugged one of her tankini straps down, giving him more access.
It wasn’t enough. She shrugged off the other strap, shoving her top down to her midriff, and then settled back down on him. Skin on skin. That was much better.
“Angélica,” he said in a low, velvety tone.
“Hmm?”
“Have I told you it turns me on when you speak Mayan?”
Her smile was set on high beam. “You said it several times last night when I was having my wicked way with you, telling you in Mayan what all I wanted to do to you.”
“Mmmm, you were very wicked with that sassy mouth of yours.” He kissed said sassy part, making her body hum.
“Parker?”
“Yes, boss lady?”
“How do you feel about sex on the beach?”
“I’m going to need you to help get these shorts off.”
She unbuttoned them.
“Angélica!” She froze at the sound of her father’s voice.
Quint covered her lips. “She’s a little busy,” he called back.
“Right. I’m sure she’s in the middle of showing you something again.”
Oh, dear Lord. Angélica shook her head in resignation.
“When she gets done whispering in your mouth,” Juan continued, “can you tell her that I used the water in her fish tank to put out the fire Pedro started in the kitchen, and now I can find only one of her goldfish.”
Quint hesitated, staring up at her with his mouth half open. “Is he serious?”
She giggled as the screen door slammed shut. “Welcome to the family.” She kissed him hard and blistering, the way that always made him groan and get all handy with her. “I really like those goldfish,” she unzipped his fly, “so hurry up and finish what you started.”
He did.
And then some.
El Fin: … for now
For a chance to win a fun prize in a weekly drawing, head over to my website now and show me your amateur sleuth skills at Angélica’s Dig Site Challenge. Here is the password and link to the Challenge page:
Password: Rover
Link: http://www.anncharles.com/?page_id=1785
Five Questions and Answers from Ann
Is it correct to say “Maya” or “Mayan”?
Because this question was asked in the feedback from my awesome crew of beta readers, I am addressing it here at the end of the book as well as the beginning.
There are various schools of thought on this. I chose to follow this one: The adjective “Mayan” is used in reference to the language or languages; “Maya” is used as a noun or adjective when referring to people, places, culture, etc., whether singular or plural.
(Source: http://archaeology.about.com/od/mameterms/a/Maya-or-Mayan.htm)
What’s a javelina (aka Peccary)?
A javelina (pronounced hah-vuh-lee-nuh) or peccary (pek-uh-ree) is a medium-sized animal that strongly resembles a pig. While it has a snout and eyes that are small relative to its head, its stomach is more complex than a pig’s. Javelinas are omnivores. They will eat small animals but prefer roots, grasses, seeds, fruit, and cacti—particularly prickly pear. They have scent glands that make them smell a little like skunks, which is why they are sometimes called “skunk-pigs.”
(Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peccary; http://library.sandiegozoo.org/factsheets/chacoan_peccary/peccary.htm)
If you want to see some cute baby javelina pictures to have a better idea what Rover looks like, search for “baby javelina” on the internet and check out the images.
What’s a cenote?
A cenote (pronounced suh-noh-tee) is a natural pit or sinkhole resulting from the collapse of limestone bedrock that exposes groundwater underne
ath. Especially associated with the Yucatán Peninsula of Mexico, cenotes were sometimes used by the ancient Maya for sacrificial offerings. Cenote water is often very clear, as the water comes from rain water filtering slowly through the ground.
(Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cenote)
Is the dig site in this story a real place?
Angélica’s dig site and the temples on it are all fictional products of my imagination. I did a lot of reading and studying of actual Maya dig sites on the Yucatán Peninsula, including Chichen Itza, Tulum, and Coba, especially those in the Mexican states of Quintana Roo and Yucatán. Here is a website with some great pictures of the temples and a map showing several of the Maya sites: http://mexpeditions.travel/archaeology-maya-world.html
What characters in this book have had cameos in my other stories?
Quint Parker—Quint is the older brother of Violet Parker (the heroine in the Deadwood Mystery Series). He is mentioned off and on in different books in that series, and he made an appearance in Deadwood Shorts: Boot Points.
Dr. Juan García—Juan is the head archaeologist who is working on the dig site in one of Ruby Martino-Ford’s mines in The Great Jackalope Stampede (the third book in the Jackrabbit Junction Mystery Series).
Angélica García—Angélica is briefly talked about by Juan in The Great Jackalope Stampede. She acts as a source of information for him.
Also by Ann Charles
www.anncharles.com
Books in the Deadwood Mystery Series
WINNER of the 2010 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense
WINNER of the 2011 Romance Writers of America® Golden Heart Award for Best Novel with Strong Romantic Elements
Welcome to Deadwood—the Ann Charles version. The world I have created is a blend of present day and past, of fiction and non-fiction. What’s real and what isn’t is for you to determine as the series develops, the characters evolve, and I write the stories line by line. I will tell you one thing about the series—it’s going to run on for quite a while, and Violet Parker will have to hang on and persevere through the crazy adventures I have planned for her. Poor, poor Violet. It’s a good thing she has a lot of gumption to keep her going!