Look What the Wind Blew In (23 page)

Oh, he was a real charm all right. He certainly had some kind of magnetism that sucked her right in, dang it. “Just be careful around him.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t trust Quint yet.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Pedro does.”

She did a double-take. “Pedro knows Quint?”

“They worked together here with Dr. Hughes.”

“You’re kidding me.” Talk about a small world. “I didn’t realize Pedro had been here back then.” Why hadn’t he ever mentioned that? Maybe she’d forgotten that detail.

“He was just a kid then, like Quint. When I flew to Cancun to get my tooth fixed, Pedro told me that your boyfriend used to help him with his English in exchange for cigarettes.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Juan’s grin made an appearance. “I could swear I saw you two kissing earlier.”

“That was an accident.”

“Oh, I see. You two
accidentally
bumped lips and you got caught up on his mouth?”

“Real funny. Ha ha.”

“Did you
accidentally
use glue instead of lip balm today?”

No, she’d accidentally lowered her guard and let her body rule over her head. “Drop it, Dad. I was just showing him something.”

“Well, judging from his reaction, I think he is going to want to see it again.”

She chuckled at that one. “Smartass.”

Dropping onto the cot again, she pondered this new information about their visiting photojournalist in light of the current situation. “Did Pedro mention any animosity brewing between Quint and Jared back then?” Something that would explain the current hostility between them, and Jared’s demand that she kick Quint off the site immediately.

“No. But I didn’t ask either. He did say that Quint had been pretty close to Dr. Hughes, almost like a son.”

Like a son, huh? What had Quint told her? That he had trouble believing Dr. Hughes was dead? A tightness in her chest told her that there was more to Quint’s story than a bout of melancholy for a friend’s father.

She needed to be very careful around Quint. Just because she wanted to do naked things with him didn’t mean she was gullible enough to let him off the hook. “Who was that
Express
letter from?”

Juan shrugged. “It had some South Dakota address on it. Teodoro picked it up at the hotel while he was at the village today. Why?”

“No reason,” she lied. “I was just curious.”

“You’re just getting
this
into trouble.” He tweaked her nose. “You should be more concerned with your ex-husband than our photojournalist.”

She gave him a wary look, wondering if he’d overheard her earlier when she’d told Quint about Jared’s blackmail deal. “Why?”

“I think Jared is on to us.”

“What makes you say that?”

“For starters, he’s certainly not paying much attention to what I’m doing for the university down here. Every time I try to talk to him about my work, he changes the subject to something about you.”

“Maybe Jared’s not into Maya architecture.”

“Maybe not, but there have been a couple of days when his only interest is what you’ve been doing.” Juan sat down next to her. “At first, I figured it was because he was still in love with you.”

“Trust me, Dad, the only person Jared pines for is Jared.”

“But the more I think about all of the university cutbacks, the more I believe he wants to be part of something that’s bigger—something that secures his place there. He knows as well as we do that there are more PhDs in this field than paying jobs.”

“Yes, but Jared is one of the best at charming and schmoozing. You and I both have firsthand experience with that.”

“True.” Her father rested his elbows on his knees. “But even silk flowers fade with time. Jared knows that, too.”

“Going forward,” she said, “you keep an eye on Jared, and I’ll watch Quint.”

Juan snickered. “Are you going to be watching Quint with your eyes or your lips?”

She backhanded his thigh. “Forget you ever saw that, because nothing else is going to happen between us.” That didn’t sound very convincing even to her ears.

“That’s too bad. I like the boy.”

So did she. That was the problem.

“If Horatio and Octavio go,” she counted on her fingers, “that leaves us with sixteen men, right?”

“Not including Fernando,” he added.

“We can finish out the season with that many, but we can’t afford to lose any more. I’ll talk to the men at supper tonight about a bonus if they finish the dig season with us. We’ll see if they’re willing to fight their fears for a little extra cash in their pockets.”

Juan sighed. “I still don’t like the idea of you dipping into your savings. Let’s see how many stay to the end. We’ll figure out where to get the money when the time comes.” By the stern look on his face, she knew better than to battle him on this right now, but there was no way she’d allow him to dip into his pension to help.

He stood and held his hand out to her. “I’ll take Quint with me this afternoon.” He pulled her to her feet. “Fernando needs your help over at the Owl Temple.”

She caught his arm when he turned to lead the way outside. “Dad, promise me that you won’t ask Quint about what happened back in the mess tent.”

“
Gatita
, would I do that?”

“Definitely. At the first opportunity.” She glared at him. “Promise me.”

“All right. I promise.” He waved her off, shaking his head as he unzipped the mesh flap. “You sure know how to take the fun out of an old man’s day.”

They stepped out into the bright afternoon sunshine. Waves of heat rose from the plaza floor. Angélica felt a bead of sweat slip and slide down her spine into the waistband of her pants. It was going to be hotter than hell in the temples this afternoon. She should probably grab a fresh bottle of water on her way to the Owl Temple.

“Sassafrass!” Juan grumbled. “It even smells hot out here.” He mopped his brow with his handkerchief. “What did you find while scouting around this morning?”

“Not a single darned thing.” She frowned at the thick patch of trees and bushes to her left, wondering if they were being watched even now.

“What’s next?”

“I don’t know.” As far as she could see, they were in a pinch until somebody actually witnessed something. She had debated about warning the crew but was afraid that would drive more of the guys away. “I was thinking about starting night watches, but let’s see if Pedro has any bright ideas when he gets here tomorrow morning.”

“That reminds me of another thing that Pedro told me about Dr. Hughes. He said Hughes’ wife contacted him a couple of weeks before her death.”

Angélica’s eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. “I didn’t realize you knew she was dead.”

“Quint told me.”

She noticed that her father seemed more preoccupied with the jungle suddenly. What else had Quint told him? “So what did she want from Pedro?”

“To schedule a trip to this very dig site via his helicopter.”

She took a step back in surprise. “What? When did she plan on coming?”

“Prior to our arrival to set up for the season.”

Why would Mrs. Hughes want to visit the site alone? Did she realize that visitors were not allowed at the dig site without the government’s permission—or Angélica’s? Something wasn’t right about this.

“Pedro never heard back from her after that initial call,” Juan continued, “so he figured it had been a whim on her part and forgot about it until I mentioned Quint’s name.”

Angélica worried her lower lip. “Why would she want to come down here after all of these years?” Was it the need for some kind of psychological closure? Curiosity?

“According to Pedro,” Juan lowered his voice, leaning close to her ear, “she wanted to collect what was left of her husband’s body.”

Chapter Twelve

Chakan: Xtabay in the form of a snake.

The jungle sizzled the whole damned day.

Quint’s ass was fried by the time he’d scaled the steps of the Owl Temple. Once inside the entrance and out of the sun’s relentless bullying, he leaned against the wall, panting. His eyes adjusted to the shadows in the limestone-enclosed sauna while sweat dripped from his chin.

“What are you doing here?” Angélica asked from where she and Fernando were kneeling over a tattered map of some sort spread out on the floor. “Is my dad coming?”

Fernando gave Quint a nod in greeting and then focused back on the map. Angélica’s gaze stayed locked on him, waiting for his answer.

“Your dad wanted to go back to his tent to analyze the measurements we collected in the Dawn Temple, so he sent me here.”

“Oh, okay. Good. I thought maybe …” She pinched her lips together. “Never mind.”

“He told me to tell you that you need me.”

“Why would I need you?”

He slanted her a grin. “You want me to show you?”

Her eyes widened and then narrowed just as quickly. “Lucky me. I have two comedians here to entertain the crew this year. You boys are a regular USO Comedy Tour.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Sarge. Stick around, I’m just getting warmed up.”

“I can see that by your shirt.” She picked up the bottle of water lying next to her. “Here. Use this to cool your smart-ass back down.” She tossed it his way.

Quint caught it, unscrewing the cap. “There’s something else mouth-watering that I wish you’d give as freely.” When she nailed him with a warning look, he held up the bottle. “Ice cubes, boss lady. A tub of them for me to soak in after we’re done tonight. What did you think I meant?” he teased.

Her cheeks darkened.

“What’s the plan?” Fernando asked, snagging her attention.

She bent back over the paper, studying it. “I’ll go check it out and see what I can find.” She pointed to the lower left corner of the sheet. “I think I remember seeing it over here somewhere.”

Quint inched closer, taking a sip of warm water, trying to see what they were studying. Turned out it wasn’t a map, rather some kind of blueprint, but of what he had no idea.

He returned to holding up the temple wall, feeling beaten and whipped. He really wished he could go back to his tent, curl up in a fetal position, and sweat to death without anyone bothering him, but this was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. With any luck, he’d have Angélica to himself for a while and maybe find a way to squeeze some information out of her.

Or just squeeze her. He had a few places in mind where he’d like to start.

“I’ll take Lorenzo with me,” Angélica said, rising along with Fernando, who rolled the blueprint and shoved it into a black cardboard tube that had seen better days—like the one in Quint’s tent. She glanced in Quint’s direction. “You come, too.” She led the way outside.

Wonderful, back into the roaster. In another half hour, he’d be well-done.

“Where are we going?” he asked, trailing behind her down the narrow, crumbling steps to the ground.

“The GOK pile.”

“The gawk what?”

“GOK pile, as in G-O-K. It’s an acronym for God Only Knows.” She rounded the corner of the temple. “Years ago, before Dr. Hughes’ time, some amateur archaeologists stumbled across this place.” She sidestepped several large chunks of limestone strewn randomly in their path. “Be careful. We’ve had several men stumble on these stones and end up with nasty cuts and bruised bones.”

Quint dodged and weaved, remembering Dr. Hughes mentioning some “damned golddiggers” twenty years ago.

“These amateur idiots were hell bent for gold and jewels, and in their greed they destroyed some important architecture.” She cleared the last of the rock rubble, waiting for him to catch up. “Fortunately, they focused mostly on the Owl Temple and didn’t damage all of the surrounding temples as well.”

Shielding her eyes, she squinted toward the jungle’s edge. Quint followed her line of sight. Lorenzo and two others were working in a shallow pit inside of the tree line.

“
Lorenzo, necesito tu ayuda, por favor
,” she called, asking for his help.

The boy waved. “
Un momento, Dr. García
.” He leaned down and picked up a small shovel.

When Quint turned back, Angélica was gone, striding away in her usual rush. “So what did these amateur archaeologists do?” he asked as he caught up with her. His memory failed him on any details from Dr. Hughes’ complaints.

“They gutted parts of the temple and threw the broken glyphs along with other fallen chunks of limestone into one big pile behind it.” She pointed out three piles of gray rocks in front of them. “Over the years, we’ve worked on dividing up the pile, putting together pieces that we think should go together and trying to figure out what glyph went where.”

He followed her to the pile on the left, where she picked up a football-sized rock. “Take this piece, for example. Judging by the list of dates here, it looks like it could belong to a partially demolished wall in Sub Chamber B.” She held it out for him to see. “We have plans to work on that wall next year.” She set the rock on the ground, brushing off her hands. “That is, if Dad gets the funding.”

Quint didn’t like the troubled look lining her face. Steel was a real son of a bitch for adding blackmail to her list of problems. There had to be something Quint could do to help her out of the bind that his sticking around would cause.