Look What the Wind Blew In (43 page)

“Quint?” she nuzzled his neck, her hips teasing.

“Hmmmm?”

She looked down at him, her lids half-lowered. “I’m just messing with you,” she whispered. She kissed him once more, hard, and then pulled away, standing over him.

He frowned up at her. “That was just sadistic.”

“That’ll teach you to talk shit about my weight.” She held out her hand. “Come on; let’s see what’s behind that glyph.”

He took her hand, then rubbed his sore right cheek after he made it back on his feet.

Angélica stepped back over to the glyph, squatting down and wiggling the block out several inches. He limped over to her, still working out a few kinks.

She looked up at him as he kneeled next to her, excitement lighting her eyes. “It’s almost free.”

“Let’s get it out of there then.” He grabbed it by the bottom corners and helped her pull the block out the rest of the way. Together they set it down carefully on the temple floor.

She shined her flashlight into the hole.

“Do you see anything?”

“It looks empty. Here, hold this.” She handed him the light and then reached into the hole.

“Do you think that’s wise? What if you touch something …” he grimaced, “something alive?”

She glanced down at his pants, her smile quick to surface. “I’ve touched something much more dangerous and very alive in the last twenty-four hours. I’m not too worried about a hole in a wall.”

“You have a sassy mouth, Dr. García.”

“Maybe so.” She shifted so she could reach deeper. “But you seem to like it.”

Like?
That didn’t touch the truth. It was the star of many of his fantasies.

“What’s this?” She frowned, leaning her head against the wall as she shoved her arm in up to her shoulder. “I think there’s something way back here.”

Juan had been spot on after all. “What is it?”

“It’s a …” She gasped, her eyes opening wide. “Oh, God!” she cried. “It’s got me! It’s got me!” She struggled to pull her arm free.

Quint didn’t think, he acted, scrambling behind her, tugging her backwards. She fell into him with little resistance sending him flying back into a jagged rock. Pain shot through his shoulder, rendering him immobile for a drumroll of heartbeats.

Angélica turned in his arms, her laughter filling the chamber.

He slowly sat upright. “You are an evil woman.” Rolling his shoulder around to try and get blood to his bruised muscles, he gave her the stink eye. “I hope you’re happy. I think I’m bleeding.”

Her laughter dried up. “Are you really? Let me see.” She grabbed his arm, gently turning him around. “I’m sorry, Quint. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, but I couldn’t resist. Dad played that trick on Pedro two years ago in the Owl Temple, and Pedro still curses him in between laughs.”

“I’ll accept your apology only after you kiss me better.” Quint held still while she lifted his shirt and inspected his back. “Any blood?” Something was sure burning in the middle near his upper spine.

She ran her hands over his skin and then poked him in the sore spot with her fingertip.

“Ow!” He aimed a glare at her over his shoulder. “What did you do that for?”

“It’s a bruise.”

“No shit. Is it bad? How big is it?”

She dropped his shirt and scooted around him, holding up her pinkie in front of his face. “The size of my fingertip.” A small grin resurfaced. “Good news. It looks like you’ll live.”

“No thanks to you, Dr. Jekyll.” He stretched his shoulder some more.

“Yeah, yeah, you big baby. Now go over there, stick your arm into that hole, and pull out whatever it is that’s back there. I can brush my fingers over it, but it’s out of my reach.”

Quint did a double take. Was she serious? She stared back at him, nudging her head toward the hole. “Hurry up, Parker. We don’t have all day.”

“Okay, boss lady. But you were supposed to kiss my shoulder better,” he reminded her.

“I kissed you less than ten minutes ago.” She followed, kneeling next to him. “How many kisses do you need in one sitting?”

“I don’t know.” He shoved his arm deep into the wall, grasping what felt like a small, hard box. The top was smooth to the touch. “We should spend a few hours figuring that out some night.”

He drew the box out carefully, wincing when he lightly bumped it on the wall before he cleared the hole.

Angélica shined the flashlight on it, her eyes widening. “What the … ?”

Quint was having trouble believing it himself. “You’re kidding me.”

She took the rectangular plastic box from him, flipping it over, reading the word on the bottom. “Tupperware?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Well, Dr. García, you think they’ll use radiocarbon dating on this piece?”

* * *

Angélica led the way into the Temple of the Water Witch in the late afternoon sunshine.

After they’d opened the Tupperware and taken stock of its contents, or more like scratched their heads about them, they’d headed back to the mess tent so Quint could get a bite to eat while they played Sherlock and Watson a while longer.

Before following her to fulfill his end of the deal, Quint had run back to his tent to grab a clean shirt and the two short two-by-fours he’d picked up behind the Dawn Temple.

He’d paused outside the entrance to the Water Witch, cursing at temples in general, and then joined her inside.

“I still don’t know what to make of those photos.” Angélica said as she climbed down the second ladder on the way to the sub chamber.

For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why Dr. Hughes would store two Polaroids and an article in a piece of Tupperware in the temple wall.

“It must have something to do with the Dawn Temple, maybe a clue.”

She waited for him to climb down the ladder. “A clue to what?”

He waved off her offer to take the two boards from him. “I don’t know. Something else he hid in there.”

Had Dr. Hughes found some relic worth hiding? If so, hide it from whom?

“They’re standing in front of the temple in the first picture,” Quint said, stepping off the bottom rung. “And the second one shows part of the temple’s blueprint.”

“What about the article?”

“I have no idea how that ties in. You’re sure you’ve never heard of the woman in it?”

“Positive. If this Dr. Sutcliffe worked at the same university as Dr. Hughes, maybe he had a thing for her.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think so. He seemed very taken with Mrs. Hughes whenever I was around them. My mom and dad were having some problems when I first met Jeff. I remember wishing my parents were more like them—nice to each other, even doting at times.”

Angélica paused beside the chamber’s outer wall and looked back at him. “You said Jared went to the same college where Dr. Hughes taught.”

“Yeah, he was a grad student there.”

“Do you think he’s somehow linked to this stuff Dr. Hughes hid away?”

“Possibly. He is in that one photo.” Quint rubbed his hand over his stubble-covered jaw, making a scratchy sound. “The only thing I am certain of is that your ex-husband is not to be trusted, especially around you.”

She smirked up at him at that last part.

“What? I’m not saying that just because I like it when you kiss me.” He winked. “Not entirely anyway.”

“You’re such a flirt.” She dropped onto her stomach and slid through the hole at the base of the outer wall.

“I’m not flirting,” he said after he shoved the boards through the hole and squeezed in after them, taking the hand she offered. “I’m being honest.”

She watched him dust off his clothes, warming to this honesty policy a little too much for her heart’s health.

“I’d like to take another look at the stuff you have from Mrs. Hughes,” she said. “Out of curiosity.”

Quint nodded, looking over at the loose block. “Anytime, boss lady.”

“Thanks. Now come play tug-o-war with me.” She crossed the room, picked up the rope, and wrapped it around her hand. “Cross your fingers the shell is on the other side.”

Quint stepped in front of her, dropping the boards next to the loosened block. “What if it’s not?”

“Let’s not go there.”

He took up the rope, getting a grip on it.

“On three then, ready?” She grasped the rope tightly in her hands as she planted her feet on the chamber floor.

Quint nodded.

On the count of three, she dug her feet in and pulled. In front of her, Quint’s arms glistened in the lamplight as his triceps bulged. The block scraped slowly across the chiseled-out floor.

Bending his knees, he put his back into it, grunting.

Her feet began to slide out from under her. Then the rope went lax in her hand and she reeled into the wall behind her.

As the dust settled, she frowned down at where Quint was lying completely still within three feet of the wall with the rope wrapped around his hand as he stared up at the blocks towering over him. Small pebble-like pieces of limestone sprinkled down around him.

A rumbling sound started low and grew louder.

Angélica took a step toward him. “Quint, move!”

“Get back!” he ordered without looking at her.

As she watched, her hand covering her mouth in alarm, he rolled onto all fours and grabbed the two short boards. Diving for the weakened wall, he shoved the boards into the spot where the block had been, pounding one under the other to jack it up.

The room fell silent, only the dust daring to move.

“Quint?” she whispered, afraid to move.

“Damn.” Wiping his mouth he pushed to his feet, his hair covered with a coat of dust. “That was close.”

“Get away from it,” she hissed, motioning him her way.

“It’s fine. Those support boards should hold it for a while until we get something stronger. It was just off balance when we pulled out the block.”

Tiptoeing over to the wall, she frowned at a new crack in one of the stones at eyelevel. “You sure it’s safe?”

He chuckled. “Safe is a term I like to use loosely.”

Flashlight in hand, she kneeled in front of the hole. “You’ve been hanging around my father too long.” She patted the block they’d hauled out. “Can you move this thing out of the way?”

“Sure.” Quint tugged on the rope and dragged the rock several feet away from the wall. “I don’t know how we’re going to haul out the one that was next to it without bringing the whole wall down.” He returned to her side.

She lowered onto her back. “We’re not taking out any more blocks.”

He caught her foot as she started to wiggle into the hole in the wall. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Finding out what’s on the other side.”

“Maybe we should look from this side until we secure the wall more.”

“No way.” She shook off his hold. “I’ve waited too long to see this.”

“Are you crazy? You bump that board and you’ll bring this whole wall down on you.”

“I’ll be fine. You might want to step back though.”

“You can’t fit through there. It’s too narrow.”

She looked overhead at the hole. It was about an inch wider than her shoulders, boards not included. “I’ll fit.”

At least she hoped she would. If the wall fell, it would take Quint days to dig her out. That was if the weight of the blocks didn’t kill her outright.

As she slid her head under the wall, she pulled her arms in tight against her torso, scraping her left shoulder on the block opposite the board in order to avoid bumping the piece of wood. Her heart banged in her chest like a bell ringer stuck inside a buried coffin. A fresh dew of sweat slicked her from head to toe.

Inching along she squeezed her elbows through and then twisted at the waist to fit through the opening. When her hip bumped the wood, her pants pocket catching on the corner, she stopped, fighting the urge to flee at all costs.

“Angélica.” Quint’s timbre was higher than usual.

The wall didn’t move.

Whew! She took a breath to steady her muscles, then carefully freed her pants. “It’s okay. I got this.”

His curses followed her the rest of the way through the hole. As soon as she was in the clear, she scurried away from the wall. Sweat poured down her face.

Quint peered in at her. “You’re fucking insane, do you know that?”

She shielded her eyes from the flashlight beam he had pointed at her face. “Maybe so, but you like me anyway.”

“I like you a whole lot better when you’re naked in my tent than when you’re trying to get yourself killed in a godforsaken temple.”

“What’s with all of the crying today, Parker?” She shined her light around the room. Cobwebs covered the chamber from wall to wall. “You start your period this morning?”

He laughed. “Oh, the things I’m going to do to you later, woman. We’ll see who’s crying when I’m done.”

Climbing to her feet, she crept across the stone floor. “Promises, promises.”

The cobwebs crackled as she brushed them out of her way, sticking to her arms, neck, and face.

Something crawled across her scalp.

Cringing, she shook out her hair.

“Well?” Quint’s light shined around her ankles. He scooted his head through a bit further “What do you see?”

“A burial chamber.”

“How can you tell?”

She shined her flashlight on the only object in the room—a bench of stone set against the wall directly in front of her. “That’s the equivalent of a casket.”

She approached the tomb. It was covered with a thick layer of dust—a millennium’s worth, she thought, wanting to jump for joy. She leaned over and blew off the top slab. Dust flew up her nose and stuck to her eyelashes.

After coughing and sputtering, she giggled. “That was smart, bonehead,” she said to herself.

“That’s supposed to be my line,” the peanut gallery chimed in from the hole in the wall.

“Be careful, funny man.”

There was still too much dust on top of the slab to see it clearly. She started to stretch the hem of her shirt, and then took it completely off, using it to wipe off the top of the stone slab.

“Nice.” Quint whistled, peering through at her. “Is this show for free? I left my dollar bills back in my other pants.”

“Don’t make me hurt you later.” What was that carved into the stone?

“What’s with you mixing my pain with your pleasure?”