Look What the Wind Blew In (15 page)

Besides, Jared wanted her to get rid of him in four days. Her ex-husband hadn’t minced words naming his price when she’d checked on him last night before she had headed to the Chachac ceremony. If Quint wasn’t gone by Thursday, she could say goodbye to her father’s university funding.

She hadn’t wasted time arguing about the price, just nodded and walked away. That didn’t mean she was going to let him have his way. If she sent Quint packing, it was going to be because …

Her breath caught at a carving in the corner of the glyph that showed more clearly in relief as she rubbed over it. She pulled the paper close enough to touch her nose. “What have we here?”

Turning down the intensity of the lantern so it wasn’t much brighter than a jar of fireflies, she grabbed her flashlight and shined it on the actual glyph. The direct beam washed out the carving so she angled it, giving the carving’s shadow more depth.

“Holy javelina!” Goosebumps broke out on her arms. Taking up her drawing pad, she sketched out the figures.

She reached for the lantern, tossing aside the flashlight. Its light beam spun around the chamber before coming to rest on the passageway into the room. Removing a paintbrush from her tool belt, she swept over the carving, clearing aside granules of dust hidden in the minute crevices. She needed the pitted surface as clean as possible to see the detail on the king’s jade necklace.

Leaning closer, she squinted at the glyph. Small skulls had been carved into every other bead. In the center, almost hidden by the torch held over the king’s chest, was—

“Angélica.”

She let out a squawk of surprise at the sound of her name coming from behind her.

Fernando joined her in the room, speaking in Spanish as he usually did when they were alone. “Your father thought I’d find you in here.”

With her heart still doing the Macarena, she chastised him. “You scared the hell out of me.”

She’d been so engrossed in what she’d found that she hadn’t heard his footfalls. Considering what she was trying to accomplish for her mother, she needed to be more aware of what was going on around her at all times.

Fernando picked up her flashlight, shining it around the walls covered with glyphs. “How much time do you think it took to carve this?”

“A lot.” She stood and wiped the dirt off the back of her khakis. “What’s going on? Does Dad need me?”

“No.” Fernando killed the flashlight. “He had to go to Cancun.”

“What? Why?”

“His tooth. He woke up with it abscessed.”

“How is he getting to Cancun? The motorcycle isn’t running yet. Don’t tell me he’s walking out of here.”

Fernando shook his head. “When Rafael rode his bike into the village this morning for Sunday service, he called Pedro. Lucky for your father, Pedro was between tour jobs. All he needed to hear was that Juan was in pain. He flew in and picked him up. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the helicopter.”

Angélica wasn’t. The walls of the Temple of the Water Witch were thick, and she was several layers deep. She wasn’t surprised that Pedro had raced to the rescue. Juan was more of a parent to him than his own had ever been.

She frowned around the room at nothing in particular. “I knew that toothache wasn’t caused by any curse.”

“Teodoro wanted to pull it. He even sterilized his pliers and pocketknife, but Juan threw some gourds and a plate at him when Teodoro tried to get near him.”

That made her frown disappear. “Did Pedro say he would fly him back after Dad gets the tooth fixed?”

“Yes, but not until tomorrow afternoon.”

That meant she had to take care of Quint and Jared in the meantime, which wasn’t going to leave her much time for further work in this chamber, damn it.

“I need your help with Quint and Jared.”

Fernando nodded. “Pedro says he’s flying back here again on Wednesday. He’s staying for a week or two to help.”

“Good, I can use him.” She took a drink of water.

“There’s something else.”

The tone in Fernando’s voice made her gulp. “What?”

“Carlos also rode into the village this morning, taking Alonso with him.”

“How? Isn’t Alonso’s leg too sore for that?”

“Carlos peddled while Alonso sat on the seat.”

Where there was a will, Angélica thought.

“It was a one-way trip,” Fernando continued. “Both boys won’t be coming back this year.”

She swore under her breath. “Let me guess: the curse.”

“Their mother refuses to allow them back here until the evil spirits are sent away. And since you won’t let Teodoro perform a
Lolcatali
ceremony …”

She slapped away his words in mid-air. “Their mother has always been too superstitious for her own good. I guess I’m out two men for the season. Cross your fingers that’s all this year.”

She gathered her drawing pad and the tracings she’d made, shoving them into her backpack. “Let’s go eat breakfast. We’ll figure out what we are going to do with our photojournalist and visiting archaeologist.”

“Breakfast has been over for hours. It’s almost lunchtime.”

“What?” She held her watch up to the lantern. The hands had barely moved since the last time she’d checked. That couldn’t be right. The battery must be dying.

Well, crud. She’d sneaked out of her tent while the birds were still sleeping, figuring on getting a few hours of work before breakfast. Those few hours had turned into seven or eight in between her dozing off, telling off Parker, and tracing glyphs.

“All right, then you take Parker for the afternoon and have him help you clear out that chamber in the Owl Temple.”

Fernando turned to leave.

“Remember,” she said to his back, “keep him off the subject of Dr. Hughes. I want Parker so busy he doesn’t have time to think up questions.”

“Okay.” Fernando waited at the mouth of the passage for her to follow. “What are you going to do with Jared?”

She grinned, thinking of the perfect place to take the arrogant prick. “Feed him to the bats.”

They left the Temple of the Water Witch, Fernando making a side trip to the latrine while she headed for the mess tent.

Besides María, who was cleaning up after lunch, Jared was the only one in the tent. Angélica grabbed a few tortillas and the small plate of salad and chicken María had set aside for her before heading over to where her ex-husband sat, drinking coffee while wearing a fancy pair of leather work gloves. He’d always been a stickler about protecting his hands, keeping them callous-free and regularly manicured. He said it was a necessity in the professional world, but she suspected it had more to do about his fastidiousness when it came to being clean.

She would have preferred to have eaten in the kitchen, catching up with María, but she couldn’t afford to slight Jared today. She sniffed her T-shirt, wrinkling her nose. After sweating all morning in the temple, she had a natural force field to keep the blowhard at bay.

Leveling her shoulders for battle, she sat down opposite him. “Hi, Jared. Have you seen Parker?” She needed to set them both straight on how the next two days were going to go without her dad around.

Jared squinted at her over his coffee cup. “I have no interest in that man’s whereabouts.” He lowered his drink. “Except when he visits your tent.”

She ignored his catty remark. “I didn’t ask if you cared where he is.” She picked up her fork and dug in. Daylight was wasting. She needed to eat, go change into some fresh clothes, and then head back out into the field.

“Your pal,” Jared’s lip wrinkled when he said that word, “rushed out of here about twenty minutes ago with a letter one of your crewmembers brought to him.”

Rafael must have checked for mail while he was back in the village for Sunday services. “Did you see where the letter was from?” It wasn’t really her business, but her curiosity got the best of her.

“One of the Dakotas, I think.”

South Dakota? His home state? She took another bite. What was in the letter? Well wishes from home? Or something from Mrs. Hughes’ son? Something pertaining to the disappearance of his father?

“You’d better keep a close eye on Parker.”

She frowned across at Jared, not liking that their minds were traveling along the same path. “You’re paranoid.”

“He’s not trustworthy and you know it.”

Of course she did. She hadn’t managed to secure her own dig site from the Mexican government by being a gullible chump. “Neither are you.”

He shrugged off her rebuff. “You should be careful around him, especially with your father gone.”

“You heard about Dad, I see.” She took another bite.

“I found it difficult to ignore a helicopter landing within sixty feet of my tent.”

“You were wrong,” she said after she swallowed. “He has an abscessed tooth. It’s not stress.”

“I’m wrong about many things, darling. I let you divorce me, didn’t I?”

She clunked her coffee cup on the table. “Not today, Jared. We’re stuck working together. I don’t want to spend it living in the past.”

He smirked. “That’s ironic, considering you choose to spend each day studying the habits and customs of people long dead.”

“True, but the key word there is
dead
. They don’t keep coming back to annoy me.”

“According to your crew, you’re wrong about that. Funny things, those curses. They sure have a way of wreaking havoc.”

She pushed the last of her lunch aside. “It’s not a curse.”

“I don’t imagine it is. Curses are illogical hypotheses formed in the minds of those who can’t distinguish reality from mythology.” He stood, looming over her. “I wonder how the university feels about curses.”

“The university can go fuck itself.” She refused to be intimidated, swirling the last of the coffee in her cup.

“I’m sure those words will go over well when the board is debating the necessity of your father working with you here in the future.”

She stretched her neck from side-to-side. “You can knock off the blackmail shit, Jared.”

“I’m making sure that you don’t let anything sway you from the task at hand.”

After gulping the last of her drink, she stood and collected her plate. “And what guarantee do I have that you’ll uphold your end of the bargain?”

“My word.”

His smarmy smile made her want to upchuck down the front of his name-brand camp shirt. Shaking her head, she walked toward the counter María was busy wiping down. “
Gracías
.” She handed her dishes to the older woman.

“Where were you this morning, darling?” Jared followed her lead, handing over his cup.

“My whereabouts should not be of any interest to you since I no longer work for the university.”

“Considering our investment in some of the work at this site, both you and your father’s actions are of supreme interest to me.”

“I already told you how I feel about the university.” She headed for the exit, cursing her father’s abscessed tooth for sticking her with her ex-meathead for the day.

He followed her out into the sunshine, his jaws locked onto her ankle like an angry honey badger. “Where were you that you didn’t come running when the helicopter landed?”

She stopped suddenly, making him almost crash into her. “In the Sunset temple excavating and diagramming Sub Chamber Q.”

“All morning?” he persisted, his gaze narrowed, suspicious. “You didn’t make it to breakfast either.”

“What can I say? I love my job. I get lost in my work.” From Jared’s taut face, she could tell he wasn’t buying her bullshit. Too bad, that’s all she was selling today. End of story. “Meet me back here in half an hour. We’re shorthanded, so you’re going to need your tool belt today.”

“But I—”

“And keep those gloves handy. I’d hate to see you ruin one of your manicured fingernails on my watch.”

* * *

From the time Steel had first arrived at the dig site, Quint’s neck had bristled whenever the dickhead had come near. But his dislike for Steel had more to do with their disagreements decades ago while working for Dr. Hughes than anything present day. He’d known since the first time he’d met Steel not to turn his back on the snake. He hoped the article Jeff had mailed to him would now provide the proof for his suspicions.

He glanced at the mesh tent flap. Should he zip the concealing flap, too? Or would that look too suspect if Angélica walked past? Or Steel? He’d sure been eyeing the envelope in the mess tent, especially after Quint flipped it address side down.

Dropping onto his cot, he opened the envelope and unfolded the enclosed paper. The title read:
Dean Rogers Appoints Dr. Steel as Dean of Anthropology
. He continued, reading under his breath.

After several months of rumors regarding a possible blossoming relationship between Dr. Catherine Rogers and Dr. Jared Steel, it seems the gossip mongers have mistaken love and affection for a political courtship.

“Schmoozing,” Quint muttered, to be more accurate.

He read further, learning how Steel wriggled his way up from being a run-of-the-mill professor to the god of the department.

Lowering the article, he rubbed his knuckles over the stubble along his jaw, trying to fit puzzle pieces together. Steel’s ambition to run the show undoubtedly had to do with his monster ego, but Quint had a feeling there was something more going on.

With Steel in charge of the department, he’d have some control over Juan and what funding he’d receive. As was obvious from meeting both Dr. Garcías, Steel only needed to have power over one to control the other.

So why was he down here? Why not send someone else to check up on Juan and report back? Quint would bet a kidney that it had something to do with Angélica. Something Steel planned to use to gain leverage over her via her father.

But to what end? Could it be as simple as him still being in love with her? Wanting her back? Steel did tend to watch her when she was near with an intensity that made Quint’s skin crawl. Was he dangerous? One of those ex-husbands who’d sooner kill his wife than allow her to escape?

Or was there something in it for Steel that would boost his career? Some power that came with corralling Angélica? Something to do with an artifact they’d come across at this site that had more importance than they realized?