Look What the Wind Blew In (16 page)

Quint swiped away the sweat rolling down from his temple. Maybe he should talk to Angélica, bounce some of his suspicions off her.

Or not.

There was no way he could talk to her about any information Jeff had shared without hurting his credibility in the process. She’d want to know his source and why he was so interested in Steel’s past. Things would only tumble downhill from …

He looked up at the sound of footfalls coming near.

“Parker?” Angélica called. “You in there?”

Shit!
He stuffed the article under his pillow, and then he noticed the torn envelope lying on the desktop. He shot to his feet, but he was too slow to reach it.

Angélica peered through the mosquito flap. “I need to talk to you. You have a moment?”

Frozen in the middle of his tent, Quint forced a grin. “Sure. Come in.”

As she unzipped the flap, he glanced over at the envelope. He’d have to let it sit there in broad daylight. Dropping onto his cot, he rested his arm on the pillow covering the article. An envelope could contain anything, but the article about Steel would be tough to explain.

She stood just inside his tent, clasping her hands together in front of her. With her hair tucked back in a braid, her cheekbones looked more defined, exotic. Her T-shirt brought out the green in her eyes, turning them into dark emeralds.

Under his scrutiny, she lifted her chin. A trail of dirt ran down her neck. What had she been up to all morning? She’d missed breakfast and the whole Juan and Teodoro circus act.

“I’m assuming you know that my father’s gone.” Her tone was all business. The soft huskiness from last night after the Chachac ceremony nowhere to be found.

He nodded.

“Due to his absence, you’ll continue working with Fernando at the Owl Temple today.”

“What about Steel?”

Her eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second. If he hadn’t been locked onto her gaze, he’d have missed it.

“I need Dr. Steel’s expertise this afternoon. He’ll be working with me.”

Fingers of unease trailed down Quint’s spine. He didn’t like her working alone with Steel. What kind of expertise, anyway? He opened his mouth to ask her, and then bit back the words.

Not his business.

Not his problem.

Angélica was a big girl. She knew what she was doing. But that didn’t stop Quint from feeling antsier about Steel’s motives for coming down here. Based on Mrs. Hughes’ collection of articles about the esteemed Dr. Steel, she hadn’t trusted him either. But while her reasoning was still a mystery, Quint suspected that his distrust had a bit to do with Steel’s past, but a shitload more to do with the woman standing in front of him.

“Okay,” he said, unable to see a way for him to change her mind about spending time alone with her ex-husband without showing his hand. “Works for me.”

“Good.” She turned to leave but then stopped, looking back at him. “I hear you received a letter.”

Quint resisted the urge to cover his pillow with his other hand. “You must have paid a visit to your ex-husband before stopping by.”

Steel probably couldn’t wait to tattle and give Angélica another reason to keep her eye on Quint.

“I trust everything is okay back home?” she fished.

He cocked his head to the side, wondering how much this was eating at her. Apparently enough to make her ask. “You want to know who it’s from?”

“No!” She flushed a shade darker. “I mean, of course not. It’s your business who sends you letters.”

Yes, it was, but Quint didn’t want this to become a barrier between them. He needed her to trust him, share details of the past, open doors that would allow him to dig for more on Dr. Hughes. “I don’t blame you for wondering.”

“You don’t?” She wrung her hands together, then pulled them apart and frowned down at them as if catching them in the act of giving away her secrets. With a sigh, she jammed them in her pockets. “You’re right. I want to know who sent the letter, even though I have no right to ask.”

She was playing nice. He’d given her plenty of reason not to trust him from the start. Here was an opportunity to change that around, continue with being honest with her, like he’d been last night when she’d prodded about his reason for kissing her.

“The letter is from Jeff Hughes.”

Her forehead creased. “Mr. Hughes’ son.” It wasn’t a question, more like an accusation.

“Yes. Jeff wondered how things are going down here.” That was true. “He’s been cleaning out his mother’s place and found some old memorabilia and wanted to tell me about it.” That was true, too, just a little vague.

“How long have you known Jeff?”

“Since second grade when he hit me in the face with a dodge ball and made my nose bleed. He felt so bad about it that he gave me the ball so I could hit him back and give him a matching bloody nose.”

“Did you?”

“Nah, I told him to give me his Wolfman hat and we’d call it even. We’ve been friends ever since.”

“You’re lucky to have such a good friend.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you have any old friends you keep in touch with still?” If he could distract her from the letter, maybe she wouldn’t get him in a position where he’d have to choose between telling too much or hiding behind a lie.

She shook her head. “I grew up on dig sites like this one. That didn’t leave opportunity for making friends.”

“What about school?”

“My parents home schooled me throughout the day and in the evenings.” His expression must have relayed his sad feelings for a lonely little girl stuck down here in this jungle, because she held up her hands. “No, it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. I was lucky to get to play in tombs and swim in shallow
cenotes
all day long. How many kids are encouraged to get their hands dirty every day instead of sit still and listen in a classroom?”

She had a point. School was not his favorite pastime, especially not on warm, sunny days.

“It wasn’t until college that I realized how lucky I’d been to be raised the way I was—a little wild, but free.”

“And then you met Steel.”

A cloud shrouded the light that had been in her eyes. “Right. Let’s not forget about that colossal blunder.”

Damn it, that’s not what he’d meant. She was shutting down just like she had last night when he’d mentioned her ex-husband while trying to remind himself why he shouldn’t kiss her in the moonlight and taste Teodoro’s sweet wine on her tongue.

“Listen,” he started, standing, “about what I said last night. I—”

“Stop. Please.” She glanced toward the tent flap. “I’d rather not go there.”

Whether he intended it or not, he’d found a way to get her out of his tent. He took a step toward her on purpose, testing. “Maybe we should talk about what happened.”

“No!” She forced out a chuckle that sounded breathless, kind of sexy. “I had a little too much
balche
.” She fumbled with the mess flap’s zipper. “My lips were drunk.” She finally got a handle on the zipper. “And stupid.”

He moved closer, driving her out into the sunshine. “Yeah, but they’re nice lips, and you looked really good in the moonlight.”

Truth be told, she’d looked damned hot, but he’d had enough sense left to fight his attraction. Getting involved with Steel’s ex-wife could mess up what he’d promised Jeff he’d do down here.

“Yeah, well, thanks, I guess.” She put a few feet of distance between them. “But let’s forget that ever happened.”

Quint didn’t think that was possible, but he nodded anyway. He fought back a grin at the obvious discomfort the big, bad boss lady was fighting on his account. It was nice to see that she was human after all.

He took mercy on her now that she was safely away from Jeff’s letter. “Where should I meet Fernando?”

The flush faded from her cheeks. “You can head over to the Owl Temple whenever you’re ready. Fernando and some of the men are already working on clearing a chamber over there.”

“Where will you be?” His business or not, he wanted to know.

If his nosiness bothered her, she didn’t show it. “At the big
cenote
.” She pointed toward a trail leading into the jungle. “There’s an underground cave a few yards from it where several sacrifices occurred.”

“You mean the bloodletting type?”

“I mean the tie your wrists behind your back, whisper messages in your ears to deliver to the gods, and push you into the underground river type.”

Quint grimaced. “Does it make you nervous to go into that cave?”

She shrugged. “Not much about this place makes me nervous anymore. The cave is dangerous though,” she warned him. “It’s slippery in places from all of the bat guano and moisture. If you’re not careful, you could fall into the river and get sucked into one of the underground limestone caverns. That’s why I’ve made it off-limits to everyone.”

Got it, boss lady.
“And Steel is going in there with you? He must not be squeamish about working in caves.”

“To my knowledge, there are only two things that get Jared excited, and one of them is blood.”

“I noticed that.” He remembered the incident with Alonso. “What’s the other?”

Her smile came quick, her eyes sparkling with devilry. “Bats.”

* * *

Angélica woke before dawn on Monday morning to the sound of a scream. She bolted upright in her cot, nearly tumbling out onto the floor.

A dark quiet cloaked her. She strained in the silence, listening. Not even the trees made a creak or shiver. Had she really heard a scream or had it been a nightmare? She fumbled for the lantern, but found her flashlight instead.

Another scream rang out before she could turn it on.

She dropped the light, her heart going off like a tommy gun. When she felt for the light again, it was nowhere to be found. “Dammit!”

Who was screaming? She hopped out of bed and landed partially on Rover. He squealed as if he’d been mortally wounded. She yelled along with him in the darkness, stumbling across the clothes-covered floor, tripping over a boot. Her right knee slammed into the desk. “Son of a b—”

“Angélica!” Teodoro called from right outside her tent.

“I’ll be right there,” she said through gritted teeth while hopping around on one leg, holding her throbbing knee. In the darkness, she grabbed what felt like a shirt and threw it on, then shuffled through the pile of clothes next to the desk and found a pair of shorts.

Where were her shoes? Where had she taken them off? She grabbed the boot she’d tripped over, slipped it on, and after feeling around the floor for a few seconds, found one of her shower flip flops. It was for the same foot as the one wearing the boot.
Shit-criminy!
It’d have to do.

She shoved the left shower shoe on her right foot and limped out into the moonlight. Teodoro waited long enough for her to zip up her tent before rushing off into the feeble moonlight toward his place.

“Teodoro, would you slow down?” she said in a loud stage whisper. When she rounded the corner, she saw there was no reason for keeping her voice low. Half of her crew was standing outside his door, twittering excitedly like a bunch of newly hatched chicks.

She stopped and took a deep breath, not sure she was ready to deal with the fears and irrationalities that were sure to come with whatever had caused the screaming. Several of the men noticed her and rushed toward her. She lowered her head and pushed through them, ignoring the questions about the curse and concerns about how she was going to get rid of the evil spirits haunting the site.

Fernando stood waiting in the doorway. She looked up at him, searching his face. The frown lines rippling up his brow made her wince in anticipation. “What is it?”

He stood aside. “You need to see for yourself.”

“Oh, God! What now?” She hobbled past him, approaching the group of men huddled around the sick bed.

They parted as she neared. Teodoro stood directly next to the bed, holding a lantern over its occupant. The sweat on his forehead glistened.

She followed his gaze. Her hand flew to her mouth, barely catching her gasp.

On the bed, sprawled face down with his pants around his ankles, was Jorge. Or rather, Jorge’s bare ass, covered with huge, inflamed, horrible-looking blisters.

Whimpering, Jorge reached back and began scratching his right cheek.

Teodoro caught his hand. “It will only make it worse,” he told the boy in Mayan.

Jorge cried for his mother.

Teodoro looked over at Angélica, his face craggy with wrinkles, his hair all askew.

“What do you think happened?” she asked.

“Looks like the curse got the latrine, too.”

Chapter Eight

Chechem Tree: The “black poison-wood” tree. Resin from this tree causes itching, blistering, and swelling.

There was nothing like a couple of hair-raising screams in the night to make a guy fall out of his cot and land flat on his face.

Thanks to Quint’s nose plant, it’d taken him a few minutes to get dressed. To make matters worse, the zipper on his tent flap had stuck and ended up breaking off in his hand.

Now that he’d managed to get himself both vertical and outside, he couldn’t seem to find anyone in the shadow-filled predawn light. But he could hear their low murmurs. Maybe they were at Teodoro’s hut.