Look What the Wind Blew In (44 page)

“What can I say?” She angled her flashlight, trying to use shadow relief to figure out the marking. “You make me want to do wicked things to you.”

“Okay, but can I be face up when you straddle me this time?”

She grinned, looking down at him. “Will you push my tools through?”

“I like the view from here.” His beam spotlighted her bra. “I’ll make you a trade—your tools for your bra.”

“Nice try, Parker.” She shook the dust from her shirt over his head, chuckling as he cursed and slid out of sight.

Her shirt was back on when her leather pouch came sliding across the floor. She scooped it up and pulled out a small paintbrush. The dust swept away easily and an image began to take shape.

“Yes,” she whispered, going up on her tiptoes.

“What is it?”

She brushed away more of the dirt. “A
moan
.”

“A what?”

“A
moan
. It’s a mythical bird the Maya associated with death. This king had a kind of twisted fascination with it. He had it carved all over the place in the Sunset Temple.”

“First a curse, now a death symbol. Didn’t these people have anything better to do with their time?”

Dropping down on one knee, Angélica tried to peer under the lip of the stone coffin. Grasshoppers bounced around inside her stomach. She was close. She could feel it.

“This slab has to go.” She shoved against the lid. “Jesus. I can’t even budge it.”

“Hold on,” Quint said. A moment later he shoved a piece of rebar through. “Try this.”

“Thanks.” Sweat dripping from nerves as much as the heat, she carefully worked the bar, shoving again and again until she had a good eight inches at the widest part of the gap. Setting the bar on top of the slab, she picked up her flashlight.

This was it.

It was all she had worked for since watching her mother take her last breath.

With her pulse chasing rabbits around a racetrack, she shined the light on the long-dead king, focusing on his neck. The jade necklace was there, but there was no shell on it. She looked from corner to corner inside the stone coffin, studying the king and jade trinkets littered throughout the grave. The longer she searched, the more her chest filled with lead.

“Well?” Quint’s voice was tinged with expectancy.

“I’m fucked.”

The shell wasn’t there.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Yum Cimil: The Lord of Death.

That evening, they ate supper in Quint’s tent since it was just the two of them. Cold tortillas, freeze-dried papaya, and beef jerky by lantern light wasn’t Quint’s idea of a romantic first dinner date, especially with Rover snorting at their feet as he practically inhaled the scraps they gave him, but it got the job done. Angélica sat on his cot in a gloomy daze, her mood dark since not finding the shell.

“What are you going to do now?” Quint asked, collecting her empty plate and stacking it on the desk along with his.

“Take a shower,” Angélica stared at the last slice of papaya in her fingers. “I really stink.”

“It was pretty hot and dusty in that little room.”

“I mean I stink as an archaeologist.”

“You’re tired. Don’t be too hard on yourself tonight.”

She took a bite of papaya, her gaze zeroing in on him. “Don’t you get it? I have no idea where to look next, and if I don’t find the shell, I have nothing.”

“You have your father.” Quint pulled out his desk chair and straddled it, resting his forearms on the back rest. “And you have me.”

“Yeah, but you’re only temporary.”

Oof!
She wasn’t pulling her punches tonight. He raised his brows. “Says who?”

“You.”

“When did I say anything along those lines?”

She frowned. “You don’t have to say anything, Quint. You’re here to write an article and have been nice enough to stay and help me. I know what that means.”

“Really? Maybe you should fill me in.”

“When I walk away from here, you walk away, too. Only you’ll be heading in a different direction.”

“Who’s to say I won’t follow you and see where you’re going?”

“This jungle.”

“The jungle speaks?”

“No, it makes you miserable.”

True. He scratched the back of his neck, thinking about the pests here. “If only there were fewer bugs. And snakes. And it wasn’t so hot and muggy.”

“Not to mention those damned tombs,” she quoted him in a fake masculine voice.

“And those.”

“See? You hate it down here. When we leave this site, you won’t be coming back ever again if you can help it. Whereas if I can figure out how to save my ass, I’ll be back in about six to eight months, weather allowing, for another season of bugs, snakes, and heat.”

She had a good point, but he wasn’t ready to walk away from her, even if it meant dealing with this hellhole and all of its vermin.

“And there’s your job to consider, of course.”

He rested his chin on his forearms. “What about my job?” He had a feeling he knew the road she was headed down. It was the same road that always ended where the skid marks went off the edge of the cliff—he traveled too much.

“It’s dangerous.”

That caught him by surprise. “How is it dangerous?”

“You travel all over the world to places far from civilization and put your life at risk.”

“My life at risk? Where did you get that idea?”

She picked up a machete and held it between them. “I don’t know—maybe because we’re sleeping next to this in the middle of a dark jungle with nobody around for miles.”

This was her doing, not his. He’d rather be holed up with her in a lush hotel right now with the only potential visitor being a staff member bringing room service.

“Yeah, but this trip is different from normal.”

“Because you’re looking for clues to Dr. Hughes’ disappearance?”

“No, because you’re here. If it wasn’t for you being so stubborn about leaving, I’d have been gone by now.”

“Without solving the Dr. Hughes’ mystery?”

“
That
is not worth risking my life for.”

“Oh.” She stared at him, little vertical lines forming between her eyes. “I see.”

“Do you?” Because if she really did, she needed to remove him from the fucking
Temporary
category.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Let me know if you need me to carve it on some Maya glyph to help get it through your hard head, boss lady.”

Her gaze narrowed. “So do you make a practice of sharing a tent with women you meet while on the road?”

“Nope. The last girl I shared a tent with was my sister, Violet, back when she still wore pigtails and my sleepwear had bulldozers all over it.”

“You know what I mean, Parker.”

“If you’re asking me whether I make a habit of sleeping with women I meet while doing my job, the answer is no. You, Dr. Angélica García, are a rare exception to a rule I’ve had for many years about not mixing work with pleasure.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her gaze hooded. “Okay, since we’re being honest with each other about this, here’s the thing—I’m not sure I’m up to trying a long distance relationship right now.”

If she wasn’t sure, that left a chance that she was up to it; she just didn’t know it yet. But with her in a black mood tonight, he decided to let everything lie for now. “How about we finish up what needs to be done here and see where we land when it’s over.”

“Okay.” She yawned, covering it. The skin under her eyes looked extra dark in the lantern light. “By the way, thanks for not making a big deal about last night.”

Did she mean sex or the fight afterward? Both had left him reeling. “Define a big deal?”

“You know, wanting to talk about it.”

He still didn't know what she meant. “I figured we’d save that discussion for later when I’m trying to get you to have sex with me again.”

“You think words will do the trick?”

“Probably not. In my experience with you, words are shushed during sex.”

Her smile came out for the first time since she’d wiggled out of that secret tomb empty-handed. “That was a rare exception to a rule I’ve had for many years about always mixing
words
with pleasure,” she volleyed his earlier line back at him.

Her wit was going to keep him on his toes, especially if she liked to joust with him during sex. He wasn’t sure he could handle multitasking when she was naked.

He watched her blink in slow motion, her eyelids drooping. “When did you get to sleep last night?”

“I didn’t. I kept María company until she left this morning.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“I need to go back in that temple and find the shell.”

“You’re practically dead on your feet.”

“Some coffee will perk me right up.”

He stood, holding out his hand to her. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” She let him pull her to her feet.

“The showers.”

“I’m not having sex with you in the shower, Parker. Not when a thug is roaming around in the jungle at night.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about shower sex.”

“Sorry.” She grimaced. “I was.”

Now that she’d raised the subject, so was he. “We both need to clean up and we’re not doing it alone.”

He grabbed some clean clothes, his towel, and one of the machetes, and then led her outside. “I’ll stand guard while you shower and you can do the same for me.”

“That makes sense.” She stepped into her tent and then returned with her tank top from last night, a pair of underwear, and a towel.

He waited while she zipped her tent closed. “So you won’t have shower sex while a possible killer is prowling around, huh?”

She walked beside him. “Of course not. That’d be like a scene from one of those teenager horror flicks. We’d be slaughtered in the midst of getting all hot and heavy.”

“What about when no killers or thugs are roaming?”

She bumped into him on purpose, playful, knocking him off course. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“The shower, of course.”

He chuckled and looped his arm around her shoulders.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, listening in the darkness. The nightly serenade of the jungle drowned out most other sounds.

While she showered, he kept watch with the machete in hand. She did the same for him, only she cheated and peeked while he was in the middle of rinsing.

“No fair!” He blocked her view with his hand. “You made me promise not to peek.”

“That’s what you get for making rash promises.”

They didn’t waste time drying off, taking fast strides back to their tents. When she started to give him a goodnight spiel, he shook his head and moved her aside, slipping into her tent. A moment later, he stepped back outside carrying her cot.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re sleeping in my tent.”

“Parker, I’m tired and pissed about the shell. As much as I admire your physical attributes and your many talents while using them, sex is not happening tonight.”

“Jeez, woman, you have a one-track mind.” He set her cot down next to his, then tugged her inside and zipped the flap closed before the mosquitos decided to join them, too. “Angélica, I don’t want to have sex with you tonight.”

“Good.” Then she frowned. “You don’t?”

He tweaked her nose. “Don’t be silly—of course, I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to try to get you naked.” He arranged their machetes and the flare gun in between the cots. “I moved you in here because it’s smarter for you, me, and Rover to stay together. Three pairs of eyes and ears are better than one, and after what happened to some of your crew, I won’t be able to sleep with you a tent away.”

At her stubborn expression, he sighed. “Listen, boss lady, let me take care of you this once. I promise I won’t tell anyone you showed any signs of weakness.”

“I’m tired, not weak.”

“Fine.” He pointed at her cot. “Now lie down and shut your eyes. You need some rest to be able to think clearly tomorrow and figure out where the shell is.”

Amazingly, she did, lying on her side facing his cot. He settled in across from her with Rover bedding down on the floor between their feet.

Her eyelids started to droop in no time. He reached across and took her hand in his, stroking the backside of it. “You want me to tell you a bedtime story?”