"I'm looking for something."
She arched an eyebrow.
"The person who beat us to the tomb — W.H. — carved marks on one of the tunnel walls. A circle, some lines, and an X. I figured it might be a map. The circle could be the tomb. The lines could represent trees."
"So, you're looking for the X?"
"Exactly."
"And Miranda doesn't know about it?"
"No."
"Good. I don't trust that woman."
I found that intriguing. Dr. Miranda May enjoyed a sterling reputation. She was known for her fierce work ethic and endless thirst for knowledge on the Classic Maya Collapse. Selflessly, she used that knowledge to help inform people about the dangers of climate change.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I talked to Dutch. He told me what she did to Eve."
"Like I said, it was an accident." I shrugged. "By the way, how's he doing?"
"He's flipping out."
"Why?"
"Let's just say Eve might not make it."
We'd paid a lot of money for Eve and her modifications. But since I was retiring from treasure hunting and salvage work, I wouldn't need to replace her. Good thing too. It wouldn't have been easy.
Or cheap.
She cocked her hand. "You still haven't answered my question from this morning. We haven't worked a job in four months. What made you come out of retirement for this one?"
"I wanted to meet Miranda."
"Why?"
"She's probably the most famous archaeologist in the world. I guess I wanted to see if she lived up to the hype."
"Did she?"
"I'm not sure yet."
She ran a hand through her hair. "This isn't really our last job, is it?"
"That's the idea."
"You didn't kill those people. Votan did."
"I know."
She studied my eyes. "You can't just run away when things go bad."
I felt a sudden prick under my shirt. Then one on my face. And another on my neck. Abruptly, gnats swarmed me, biting viciously, mercilessly at my bare skin. The natives called them roderos. I didn’t know what that meant nor did I care. All I cared about was making them go away.
I waved my hands. But it didn't work. Unfortunately, I'd just have to put up with them until sundown.
Of course, that was when the mosquitoes came out.
"I'm not running away."
"You're lying."
The confrontation had been building for months. After our encounter with Votan, I'd returned to Manhattan. I'd even gone on a few job interviews. Beverly, however, hadn't been ready to settle down. She'd spent every waking moment trying to convince me I was making a mistake.
I exhaled. "For the last time, I don't blame myself and I'm not running away from anything."
"Then why are you quitting?"
"It's not important."
"It is to me." She took a step in my direction.
"Hang on a—"
Her right foot lashed out. Still exhausted, I barely blocked it. "Don't do this." I backed away. "This isn't the time or—"
She threw a vicious punch at me.
I parried it. "Stop it, Beverly. I'm serious."
Another punch whizzed toward my head, missing my ear by less than an inch. "I'll stop," she said. "When you start talking to me."
She aimed another punch at me. It slipped through my defenses and slammed into my gut.
"Ouch." I reeled back a few feet, wheezing for air. "That hurt."
"I know." She adopted a fighting stance. "That's the point."
Her right fist swung toward my head. I grabbed it out of mid-air. Then I yanked her toward me, wrapping her into a tight embrace.
She struggled violently. "Let me go."
I held her tight. She continued to thrash against me, drawing ever closer. Her heaving breasts touched my chest. I felt the warmth of her body. Heard her rapid breathing. Saw the hungry look in her eyes.
I lowered my face.
She raised hers.
There was no hesitation, no gentleness. Animal instincts took over and our lips mashed together, violently and passionately. And then everything seemed to disappear at once.
Everything but us.
Chapter 13
Beverly jumped on me, wrapped her legs around my waist. I toppled over. My back slammed to the ground. Before I could move, her hands worked their way beneath my shirt. Her hair swirled around my face, enclosing me like a curtain. Then her tongue thrust deep into my mouth.
Hot damn.
My hands closed around her waist. I shifted my arms. A small yelp escaped her lips as I rolled on top of her.
She fought back, trying to regain the top position. But I distracted her with soft kisses, teasing her lips. Her cheeks flushed and she lunged at me. I dodged her and started nibbling at her ears and neck. Her head drifted to the ground. Her back arched and she moaned softly.
My left hand stole up her shirt, snaked behind her back, undid her bra clasp. The straps eased. Her breasts, now freed, swayed gently under her shirt. I touched them, rubbed them, kneaded them. Ever so slowly, her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
My right hand undid the button on her jeans. Her fly popped open. She inhaled sharply. Thrust her hips toward the sky.
I tried to hold her down, to contain her. But she was fired-up, crazed beyond belief. She twisted her hips. Rolled me to my back and regained the top position. Before I knew what was happening, her fingers had slipped down my cargo pants.
I rolled again and remounted her. But she answered with her own roll. And then we were rolling, rolling, rolling.
Wind rushed against my face. Underbrush and rocks struck my back. I saw blurry glimpses of trees and bushes. Deep down, I knew it was dangerous. Hell, we could've been rolling toward a cliff for all I knew. But it didn't register. Nothing registered. Not the excavation, not my retirement, not anything. Nothing except the plain truth that I wanted her. I wanted her body, her soul.
I wanted everything.
My left side banged into something hard and we slid to a stop. A sharp pain shot through my torso, but I barely noticed it.
I kissed her neck. One arm held her close, the other danced beneath her shirt. She shivered, but only for a second.
"Cy?"
"Yeah?" I breathed slowly, deeply. My hand caressed her taut stomach. But she was strangely cold to my touch. "What's wrong?"
"That."
I pulled back a few inches. Looked into her eyes. They were locked on something just behind me. Twisting my head, I noticed a slab of rusty metal. It was heavily soiled and half buried in muck. "Is that …?"
"It's a plane." Her tone became hushed. "A very old plane."
Mentally, I compared our location with the etchings from inside the tomb. "I guess X marks the spot."
Chapter 14
"What were you doing out here anyway?" Miranda asked. "We're almost a quarter of a mile from the tomb."
I squinted into the growing darkness. "We found something."
"What?"
"It's better if you see it."
"Fine." Miranda picked her way under a fallen tree trunk. Then she continued forward in a straight line, waving her flashlight from side to side. "Let's get this over with."
A bloodcurdling howl rang out. I tightened my grip on my machete. My other hand flew to my shoulder holster.
Transporting my gun to Mexico had proven difficult. But I was glad to have it. Alligators and crocodiles lined the shores of the nearby river. Jaguars, pumas, ocelots, tapirs, and other animals roamed the jungle.
The howl died out. Slowly, I released the pistol. But I kept my machete in front of me.
Picking up the pace, I strode ahead of Miranda. Rows of giant palm trees dotted the landscape, forming a series of massive, endless walls. Saw grass, briars, thorn-covered bushes, and acacias sliced at my arms and legs. Ankle-deep mud sucked at my boots, threatening to pull them right off my feet. I found it amazing Beverly and I had survived our all-too-brief foray through the jungle.