by Anna Hackett
“Not if I don’t have to.” He waved to the bed. “Take a seat. Time to talk.”
She huffed out a breath and dropped onto the bed, crossing her arms over her chest. That just managed to pull his shirt a few inches higher on her legs.
Oliver swallowed a groan. Focus. He held up the plastic envelope he’d found in her muddy clothes. He tossed it on the bed, the diary page clear through the plastic. She froze.
“You’re following clues listed in this diary.” He shifted closer to her. “It doesn’t say where it leads, but I’m guessing to some sort of treasure.”
Big, gray eyes stared hard at him.
Oliver crossed his own arms. “I’m just as stubborn as you, Percy.”
“Percy?”
He shrugged. “It suits you.”
She sighed. “You aren’t going to drop this, are you?”
“Nope.”
She muttered something about stubborn archeologists. “Have you heard of the Lost Emerald Mine of the Incas?”
Oliver laughed. “A myth. The best emeralds come from Colombia, from the Muzo region. That’s likely where the Inca got their emeralds.”
She crossed her legs. “There have been rumors of an emerald mine in Ecuador, as well. The Spanish loved emeralds. They sent bag-loads of emeralds out on their ships with stolen Inca gold. And here in Ecuador, they sent lots of conquistadors into the jungle east of Quito, searching for oro verde. Green gold.”
Hell. Oliver had heard the stories. “Who’s diary is this?”
“It belonged to a former American soldier called Stewart Connelly. He arrived in Ecuador in 1924.”
“Go on.”
“He headed northeast into the jungle in search of emeralds. He was gone for months, and most considered that he’d perished.” She grinned. “Then, he turned up. The missionaries at Ahuana on the Rio Napo saw a naked, emaciated, bearded, white man swimming across the river. A man wearing a bag of emeralds tied to his neck. They nursed the delirious man back to health.”
Oliver uncrossed his arms. He’d heard tantalizing stories like this a hundred times before. Full of drama and few real facts.
“The man was Connelly,” Percy said. “He repaid the missionaries with emeralds and headed to Quito to mount an expedition. He told everyone an amazing tale of fighting caimans and witch doctors, stumbling onto a tribe of cannibals, and of course, discovering the Lost Emerald Mine of the Inca.”
“I’m sensing a but here.”
“After stumbling around in the jungle for months, he wasn’t exactly sure where the mine was.” Her eyes were dancing as she told the story. “He had a vague list of landmarks, but that was it.”
“And?”
“And, Connelly put together an expedition and headed back into the jungle.”
Oliver leaned forward. “Did he find it again?”
She shook her head. “The jungle swallowed the expedition, and they were never seen again.”
“Just the kind of exciting story that would excite treasure hunters.” He studied her face. Her eyes were serious and her face composed. Persephone Blake was not crazy or running on adrenaline.
“I’m following the clues in the diary. They led me to your dig site. To a city on a hill and lost to the jungle.”
Hell. “And the gunmen?”
She pulled her face. “I wasn’t the only one to purchase the diary page. I’m harmless, but other treasure hunters…” She shrugged.
Oliver started pacing again. Persephone was not harmless, in any way, shape, or form.
This whole situation was dangerous. Suddenly, he felt angry. Angry that she was down here in the jungle alone. Angry that she would put herself in so much danger for the slimmest chance of finding treasure.
“Your family okay with you gallivanting around dangerous countries?” he bit out.
She sat back on the bed, baring more thigh. “Gallivanting?” She arched a brow. “Firstly, my family doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me. Secondly, I’m an adult, and I do what I want. Thirdly, I can take care of myself.”
Enraged, Oliver strode closer, his legs bumping against hers. “Really? You can take care of yourself against bigger, stronger opponents?”
She looked up at him, and the next second, her legs whipped out, knocking his own legs out from under him. Oliver went down, hitting the tile floor, hard. In the next second, Persephone was straddling his chest, shoving him back against the floor, her forearm pressed against his throat.
“Yes,” she said. “Because I’m smarter.”
And so damn sexy. It was probably wrong that a woman attacking him—this woman attacking him—gave him a hard-on. Damn, he was acutely aware that she was naked under his shirt. Hell, he was really hard now, his cock throbbing.
“Percy—”
She shoved her arm harder against his throat. “No one calls me nicknames.”
“I do.” She pushed harder and he choked.
Oliver bucked her off him. They rolled across the cool floor, smacking into the bedside table and setting it rocking.
He ended up on top, trying to keep some of his weight off her smaller body, pressing his hips against hers. She cursed, her gaze locking on his. Then, before he could figure out what she had planned, she leaned up and kissed him.
The fight went out of Oliver. She tasted so good—wild and fierce. Full of life.
She moaned, her hands moving over him and cupping his ass. He slid a hand down, cupping one of her small breasts. She was driving him crazy.
She arched into him, moaning again, and then her hands were tearing his shirt out of the waistband of his trousers.
Persephone was losing her mind.
Damn, Oliver Ward tasted so good, smelled so good, felt so good. The sexy fog had well and truly descended, and she was basking in it.
She smoothed her hands up his back, over lean muscles and tantalizing skin. The man had an amazing body for a scholar.
They rolled again, and for a moment, she was on top. She rubbed against him, liking the way his blue gaze flared.
“You like that?” he murmured.
“I like your body.”
He rolled them again, and once again, she found herself under him. And she liked it. She didn’t stop to analyze that, because she didn’t ever let a man get advantage over her.
“I like yours, too.” He lowered his head, his lips tracing up her neck. He nipped at her skin, and she moaned.
There was a knock at the door.
They both froze.
“Oliver?” A man’s deep voice. Persephone guessed it was the older man they’d traveled with from the dig. “We’re heading out to get something to eat.”
Oliver muttered under his breath. “Okay, Ben. I’ll catch you later.”
She listened to the man’s footsteps retreat. The spell between them had been broken. She shoved against Oliver, and felt him reluctantly move off her. They both got to their feet.
“So, you’re planning to find the Lost Emerald Mine of the Inca,” he said. “Then what? Open a mining company in this dangerous country?”
“No.” She pushed her wet hair behind her ears. “I’m planning to find the lost Incan emerald known as the Emerald Tear.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Giant emerald about the size of my fist.” She held up her hand and clenched it closed. “You know the legend of Tena and Fura in Colombia?”
“Yes. From the Muzo region where the emeralds come from.”
“The Muzo region is named for the Muzo people. In pre-Colombian times, they mined emeralds, and told the story of Tena and Fura. They were the first man and woman made by the creator god. The god taught them how to cultivate the land, make pottery, and weave, and in order to remain immortal, they had one rule. They had to remain true to each other and not cheat.”
“But Fura didn’t remain faithful,” Oliver said.
Percy rolled her eyes. “Just like Adam and Eve, it’s all the woman’s fault. A beautiful, young man called Zarbi arrived.
He was looking for a specific flower, and Fura agreed to help him. Cutting to the chase, Fura and Zarbi shagged.”
Oliver swallowed a laugh.
“Fura began to age, and in regret, went back to her husband. In despair, Tena stabbed himself, and Fura cried over his body. Her cries became butterflies and her tears became emeralds.”
“And the creator god turned them into stone mountains that still stand in the Muzo region to this day,” Oliver finished.
She leaned forward. “And here we are in a town in Ecuador called Tena. Close to where Stewart Connelly came out of the jungle in the 1920s, with a bag full of emeralds and clues leading to the lost mine. A mine where the legends say the Inca kept two giant emeralds—the Emerald Tear and the Emerald Butterfly.” She shifted on her feet. “The Emerald Butterfly was allegedly stolen by the Spanish and lost.”
Persephone watched Oliver thinking. A sexy little crease appeared on his brow. Damn, she could watch him think for hours. She was still tingling between her legs. This man was a huge distraction.
“And if you find this emerald?” he asked, his eyes serious.
She lifted her chin. “I’ll sell it and retire in the Caribbean.”
He watched her steadily, until his close inspection started to make her feel itchy.
“I’ll help you find it,” he said.
She went still. “Help me?”
“Yes.”
“No. No. No.” She held up her hands. “I told you, I work alone.”
She was well aware of the risks she was taking. This damn job had already turned dangerous. Oliver had already had a gun pointed in his handsome face, and Persephone did not want to see that happen again.
“I’ll work with you,” he said. “Partners. All I ask is that you promise to sell the emerald to me when we find it.”
She blinked, trying to find the catch. There was always a catch. He smiled. That damn smile that made her brain fog over.
“With the university and its donors’ help, I’ll be able to raise the funds. Besides, I think my dig is the mine workers’ village.”
She gasped. “What?”
“I think the town we’re uncovering was where the mine workers lived. I’m guessing you need to find the next clue there.”
She gave him a reluctant nod.
“So, let’s work together.” He held a hand out for her to shake. “We’ll start first thing in the morning.”
Persephone stared at his palm. He didn’t have the soft hands of a man who spent all his time in the halls of academia. His hands were long-fingered and well-shaped, but he had calluses. She’d never worked with a partner. Hell, she’d never trusted anyone enough to partner with them. And she never kept a man around longer than it took for them to have a roll between the sheets.
Oliver Ward was a distraction to beat all distractions, and she already regretted what she was about to do. She took his hand.
Before she could shake, he yanked her forward so she bumped against his chest. The kiss he pressed to her lips was hard and fast. “Just wanted to seal the deal.”
She shook her head. “I’m in big trouble.”
He shifted, and then suddenly she felt rope on her wrist.
She looked down, staring at the rope, and she sighed. “Is that really necessary?”
He shot her that sexy smile. “I’m guessing, yes.”
Chapter Four
Oliver woke, blinking at the morning light filtering into his hotel room.
He rolled on the bed, the rope rubbing against the skin at his wrist.
He sat bolt upright. There was no small, sexy, infuriating treasure hunter attached to the other end of the rope.
Dammit. Scrambling off the bed, he reached for his shirt. He’d kept his trousers on to sleep, drifting off excruciatingly aware of Persephone lying beside him.
Now she was gone. The woman had managed to untie his knot and run off.
He got to the window and paused. He saw her sitting outside in the small garden, feeding bread to a gaggle of brightly colored parrots.
Slipping his feet into his shoes, he went outside. She sat on a small wooden bench, still only wearing his shirt, her hair mussed from sleep.
“I thought you’d run,” he said.
She kept her gaze on the birds. “I considered it.”
He sat down beside her. “Why didn’t you?”
She turned her head, eyeing him. “Well, possibly I’ve lost my mind. Or maybe it’s because I think you will actually help me find the emerald.”
“So it’s only about the emerald?” he asked.
She shot to her feet. “Of course.”
He nodded. The little liar. He was learning to tell when she was skating close to the truth, and when she was flat-out lying.
“I think I’ve found your clue and the way it points.”
She sucked in a breath. “Where?”
“There’s a strange carving in the stonework on the hill that my student thinks is a tomb. It’s had us all baffled. It shows boats and clearly points toward the Rio Napo.”
Her face lit with excitement. “So, we have to follow the river.” She pulled out the diary page that she’d clearly stolen back from him. “The next clue talks about a river of blood. We have to head upriver until we find a river of blood.”
“River of blood. Nice,” he said. “We’ll need a boat.”
She nodded. “Then get dressed and packed, professor.”
“I’m not a professor, yet.”
“But you will be, and you look like one.” She winked at him. “Now, we have an Incan treasure to find.” She made a shooing motion with her hands.
His gut tightened. God, she was gorgeous. It was like there was a light shining out of her, and he wanted all that light to himself.
Inside, they both filled their backpacks. Oliver’s had seen plenty of digs and expeditions, but it wasn’t anywhere as battered as Persephone’s. He shoved his gear, small one-man tent, and clothes in the bag, and watched Persephone duck into the bathroom to change.
Her head popped around the door. “By the way, I’m stealing this shirt. Mine’s ruined.”
He gave her a small salute.
When she stepped out, she had his shirt tucked into fitted, khaki pants. Oliver swallowed, desire raging inside him.
Finally, they shouldered their backpacks and headed out. “I need to tell Ben and the team that I’m leaving for a while.” He knocked on the door of the neighboring room.
His mentor opened it. There was a faint bruise on his cheek from the previous day’s chaos. Ben frowned at Persephone.
“I wanted to tell you that I’m heading into the jungle for a few days,” Oliver said.
Ben’s bushy brows drew together. “What?”
“Percy has some good leads to another Incan site that links to ours. I want to investigate it with her.”
“Oliver, we had gunmen raid our site.”
Oliver nodded. “And with us gone, you won’t have any more trouble with them.”
Ben squeezed his eyes closed. “I was afraid that was going to be the case.”
“I want the team safe. Keep them working, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Ben glanced at Persephone. “Another Incan site. And I’m guessing there’s treasure involved.” Ben’s gaze landed back on Oliver. “This sounds like a wild-goose chase.”
Oliver flashed him a smile. “It won’t be. Not when I bring you back the location of the Lost Emerald Mine of the Inca.”
Ben hissed out a sharp breath. “Nothing but a myth.”
“I know you’ve been fascinated by any references to the Emerald Butterfly. It came from somewhere.”
“Yes, likely from Colombia!”
“I’m going, Ben.”
“Good morning,” Cheryl’s voice said from behind Oliver.
He turned and saw Cheryl frowning at Persephone. Then her gaze snagged on the shirt Percy was wearing, and Cheryl’s lips twisted with dismay.
“What’s going
on?” she asked.
“Oliver is heading off on a small side expedition with his friend,” Ben said.
Cheryl’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Is that a sensible idea?”
Persephone grinned and elbowed Oliver. “Probably not. Maybe you should stay behind, professor.”
He scowled down at her. “No.”
Cheryl tilted her head, tossing her curls back. “You seem familiar. Do I know you?”
Persephone sketched a small bow. “Persephone Blake.”
Cheryl hissed in a breath. “The infamous treasure hunter?”
Infamous? Oliver had never heard of her.
Persephone’s grin widened. “I warned you.”
“You discovered a cache of Aztec gold artifacts in Mexico,” Cheryl said. “And sold them to the Smithsonian.” There was censure in the woman’s voice.
A dreamy look settled over Persephone’s face. “It was a beautiful collection.”
“And you found an Incan gold necklace in Peru,” Cheryl added. “I suppose you sold that, too.”
“It didn’t match the color scheme of my wardrobe,” Persephone replied simply.
Ben was staring at Persephone with an unreadable gaze. “You helped lead a team from Stanford to several unidentified temples at the Mayan city of El Mirador. It was an amazing find.”
Persephone’s smile slipped. “Working with them helped my own job.”
“I’m friends with one of the archeologists who led the team. He said you helped them immensely.”
Oliver watched Persephone shift uncomfortably. When she was trying to prove she was mercenary, she was all smiles, but when Ben paid her a compliment, she turned prickly. Interesting.
He grabbed her hand. “Percy and I will be gone for a while. I’ll contact you when I get back.”
“You’re leaving us?” Cheryl said. “Just when we’re all shaken up after the attack?”
There was a tremble in Cheryl’s voice, and he caught Percy rolling her eyes.
Oliver cleared his throat. “I know. But I don’t think we’ll have any more trouble at the dig with Percy and me gone.”