Look What the Wind Blew In (29 page)

Two hours later his lips were numb, and he couldn’t feel his toes.

Juan snoozed in his chair, his chin resting on his chest. Meanwhile, Pedro was trying to count the lines on his palms but kept losing his place and having to start over.

Angélica still sat on the ground with her legs stretched out in front of her. She stared into the fire, her thoughts obviously elsewhere.

Steel and several of the others had disappeared, probably retired to their tents.

When Quint lowered his drink to the ground, standing up to stretch, she snapped out of her daze.

“What time is it?” she asked him.

“Just after eleven.”

“I would have thought Esteban and Rafael would’ve been back with the chicken by now.” She pushed to her feet, staggering slightly. “My foot’s asleep,” she explained when she turned down his hand to help steady her.

“They did come back, don’t you remember?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Oh, that’s right. You went to the bathroom.”

“Good, I missed it. I hate that part.”

He watched Teodoro carry a wooden cross and a gourd cup toward the Temple of the Crow. “What’s he doing?”

“This is another step in the ritual. He’s going to place the cross, some rum, and a piece of black obsidian on the ground to protect us. He’ll do that three more times, as if in the corners of a square. Then he’ll make more offerings to the
alux
, burn more incense, and chant at the altar for a while longer. Eventually, intoxicated by all the
balche
he’s been drinking, he’ll have a vision of the future and share it with the men. We’re hoping his words will reassure them that the wind spirits have been called to protect them.”

“And then they’ll stay?”

“Keep your fingers crossed.” She searched the area. “So where are Esteban and Rafael now?”

“Juan mentioned they were cleaning up at the
cenote
.”

“How long ago did they leave?”

He thought for a moment and then looked down at her. “Maybe half an hour ago.”

She watched Teodoro move to the next corner. “I’m going to go to the
cenote
and make sure the boys find their way back okay.”

“Not alone, you aren’t.” Not with someone possibly waiting in the forest to do who-knew-what to her.

She studied Quint for several seconds, her lips pursed. “Okay, you can come with me. But be careful where you step. The snakes are hard to see at night.” She headed toward the forest.

Quint grabbed his flashlight, jogging to catch up with her. “What kind of snakes are we talking about here? The venomous ones?”

Dodging a low-hanging limb, she stepped onto a well-worn path, her light leading the way. “The ones that eat the rats hiding in the bushes next to the trail.”

Great. Snakes and rats. Didn’t they have any cute, furry bunnies down here? Hell, he’d take an ugly possum over another venomous predator.

The glow from the fire disappeared as they moved deeper into the forest. Darkness cloaked them, broken only by their flashlight beams and shafts of moonlight. Angélica maneuvered through the shadow-filled brush as easily as if she were threading through tables in the mess tent.

Now that he had her to himself, maybe it was time to tell her about Mrs. Hughes and why he was really here. After all, with the new information about the plane crash on the table before him, it didn’t look like he needed to spend any more time figuring out what had happened to Dr. Hughes.

She led him around a large tree standing in the middle of the path. “We’re almost there.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “You doing okay?”

“Angélica,” he started and then tripped over a tree root. He stumbled into her, his weight shoving her off the trail. She corrected course, holding onto him, but then toed a stone jutting out into the trail. Still tangled up, they both hit the ground, rolling as the path dipped down a steep hill.

Her grip on him slipped as they tumbled. Quint lost track of her while trying to stop himself by grabbing onto tufts of grass and bushes. He heard her grunt somewhere below him, and then she grasped his leg as he slid past her. But he had too much momentum. Instead of stopping, he spun around and skidded headfirst for several more feet, dragging her along until they finally came to a dusty stop.

“Shit.” He spit out a mouthful of dust. He rolled over onto his back and wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve, cleaning the grit off his tongue.

The half-moon shone through the opening in the tree canopy overhead. The jungle was silent for several breaths, and then the nightly serenades started up again.

Angélica leaned over him, the moon lighting half of her face as she stared down at him. “Are you okay, Quint?” She ran her hands over him. “Is anything broken?”

He tested his limbs, moving them slowly. “No, I think I’m fine. What about you? I heard you grunt.”

“Lucky for me, a tree stopped me from falling into the
cenote
.” She pointed over his head.

He twisted his neck to look. A black hole yawned in the earth a few steps away.

“Shit, that was close.” He stared back up into her face. “If you hadn’t grabbed my leg …”

“I’d have been jumping in after you.”

“How far down is it to the water?”

“Twenty feet or so.”

He replayed the whole circus act over in his head. Laughter bubbled in his chest and then floated to the surface. “Hot damn, boss lady. You sure know how to show a guy a good time.”

She kissed him, hard and demanding, knocking every coherent thought out of his head. Her lips tasted sweet from the
balche
, and when she touched her tongue to his, he forgot to breathe for several seconds.

She sank down onto him, all soft curves and heat. Her lower body pressed against his, her legs straddling him. He groaned, his hands traveling south over her curves, rounding her hips. He shifted her against him, starting a friction that shot fire through his veins.

She pulled back slightly. “Oh, Quint,” she whispered. “I really like that.”

Rolling her onto her back, he trailed his fingers up along the side of her breast, tracing the contour. “You’re gonna like this even better.”

He slid his hand under her T-shirt, skimming his fingers along the soft skin of her stomach. She arched into his touch, her breaths short and fast as he made his way north.

There was a rustle in the bushes across the
cenote
. Something splashed into the water below.

He hesitated, squinting in the moonlight toward the direction of the sound.

“What was that?” She sat up, twisting around. “Did you see anything?”

“No.”

She rose to her knees and peered over the edge of the
cenote
. “I think there’s something down there in the water.”

He grabbed onto the waistband of her pants to keep her from falling in. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” She strained further. “It kind of looks like …” Her body stiffened. She gasped.

“What is it?”

“Oh, no!” She yanked free of him, leaning further.

Quint joined her at the edge. “What?” He saw nothing beyond the moonlight reflecting off the water below.

“It’s Esteban.” She shoved to her feet, glancing wildly at the bushes surrounding them. “I’ve got to do something.”

Quint realized her intention a moment too late. He reached for her leg. “Angélica, don’t …” but he missed.

She leapt over the edge of the
cenote
and vanished into the darkness.

Chapter Fifteen

Tok: An obsidian blade used in bloodletting.

Angélica burst up through the
cenote
, searching for Esteban across the surface of the dark, cool water. There he was off to her right, floating on his back. Reflections of moonlight glittered like diamonds on the small waves she made as she paddled over to him.

“Esteban?” She grabbed his arm, towing him closer. “Esteban, can you hear me?”

He didn’t answer.

She touched his neck, searching for a pulse while treading water.

“Angélica,” Quint hollered from above, his deep voice echoing off the limestone walls.

Don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead
. She closed her eyes in concentration, focusing.

“Angélica, are you okay?”

She moved her fingers slightly, trying not to shake as she waited for a sign of life.

Rustling sounds came from overhead. Pebbles plunked into the water at the edge of the
cenote
. “Angélica, answer me or I’m coming in.”

She felt it! Weak and slow but definitely a pulse.

“Wait!” she called to Quint. “I’m all right.” She pulled Esteban closer, amazed that he was out cold yet floating face-up. What was keeping him from flipping over?

“What about Esteban?”

“He’s unconscious.” She ran her palm over his head and paused when she felt an egg-sized bump at the base of his skull. “He’s got a bump on his head.”

“Any other injuries that you can tell?”

“I’m checking.” She skimmed her hands over his shoulders and ribs, then down the side of his baggy shorts toward his legs, sweeping over what felt like a piece of plastic.

What was that? She dug into his front short pocket and pulled out a sealed plastic sandwich bag. A silver watchband gleamed in the semi-darkness. She reached under him and checked his other pocket, drawing out another bag with a Rosary stuffed into it. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

So that was what kept him face-up. The sandwich bags had saved his life. She was flabbergasted. There must have been just enough air in each of them to keep him from rolling. What were the chances?

She stuffed them back into his pockets. The way things looked down here at water level, she needed all the help she could get at the moment. As she pulled her hand back, her fingers touched a piece of rope. She followed its length. Her breath caught when she realized that it was binding his wrists together.

“What in the hell is this?” She fished her Swiss army knife from her pocket and cut the rope. As she snapped the knife closed, it slipped from her wet hands and plopped into the water. She tried to catch it as it sank but missed in the dark water.

“Damn it.” She cursed her clumsiness and threw the cut rope off to the side of the
cenote
. This was no curse and definitely no accident.

“What’s going on down there?”

“You don’t want to know.” She lifted his left eyelid, unable to see the pupil in the weak moonlight. “I need your flashlight,” she hollered up at Quint. “I dropped mine when we fell down the hill.”

“Is it waterproof?”

“All of the flashlights at the dig are waterproof. They float, too.”

“Heads up. It’s to your right.” A small splash sounded as it hit the water. “You need to take off your hiking boots, Angélica. They’re too heavy to tread water for long.”

She swam over and grabbed the light, then paddled back. “I can’t. They’re laced up all the way and double-knotted. Besides, I don’t have time.” She lifted Esteban’s eyelid again, shining the light into his pupil. “Oh, shit.” She opened the other lid.

“What?”

“His pupils aren’t dilating, his pulse is weak, and his breathing is shallow.” She shined the beam around the limestone walls. “I have to get him out of here fast.”

Where was the goddamned rope ladder?

“Quint, I need you to look around the edge of the
cenote
. There should be a rope ladder somewhere up there.”

She tried to ignore the balloon of anxiety expanding in her chest. Panic was not the solution at this point.

“We usually leave it hanging down into the water in case somebody slips and falls in,” she called up, still holding onto Esteban. “But I don’t see it anywhere.”

Quint had been right about her boots. They felt like ten-pound barbells dangling from her ankles. She released Esteban, using her arms to keep afloat. She needed to save the strength in her legs for the climb up the ladder with him in tow.

More pebbles cascaded over the edge from above and plopped into the water.

“Come on, Quint,” she whispered, a chill seeping up her legs.

“I can’t find it,” he called down.

She hit him in the face with the flashlight beam.

He squinted in the brightness. “Not without that light anyway.”

“Damn it.” She directed the beam back on Esteban. His lips were starting to look blue. She had to get him out of the water, or he’d go into shock … if he hadn’t already.

“There are some vines in the trees,” Quint said. “I could lower one down and pull you out.”

“It won’t work. Not with him unconscious. There’s no way I can hold his weight.” She blew out a breath, knowing what she needed to do. Her chest tightened at the thought of doing it. “Listen, Quint, I have a plan.”

“I can tell by the tone in your voice that I’m not going to like it.”

“There’s an underwater passageway between this sinkhole and the cave that I dragged Jared into last week.”

“How do you know?”

“Because this
cenote
is part of an underground river system. A couple of years back, we hired a hydrogeologist to visit the site along with some divers. They mapped the tributaries leading in and out of the
cenote
.” She paused to catch her breath.