Look What the Wind Blew In (33 page)

“Now we have plenty of signs pointing to this temple, but no actual shell as of yet.” Sitting forward, she pulled her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Somewhere within these limestone walls is the proof I need not only to clear my mom’s name but also to put her life’s work in history books for the world to read.”

Lines formed on Quint’s brow. “That’s a noble cause, but is it worth risking your life?”

She scoffed. “I’ve spent the last three years looking for this damned shell. I’m not about to let whoever is trying to sabotage the dig stop me when I’m this close.”

He nodded but said nothing.

“So, Parker, I’ve now held up my end of the deal.” She rested her chin on her knees, wondering if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life by telling him her secret. “Are you going to stick around a little longer to watch the fireworks finale at the end?”

A smile crept up his face. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Angélica, especially if fireworks are involved.”

Chapter Seventeen

Kinich Ahau & Kan ek’

(the Sun god and the morning star, Venus):

Sometimes shown together as they rise from the horizon at dawn.

“
Gatita
, wake up.”

Angélica opened her eyes.

The world had fallen over onto its side.

Wait. False alarm. She lifted her head, grimacing in the morning light. She pushed her hair out of her face and brushed off a paperclip that had stuck to her cheek. “What is it, Dad? Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You’ve missed breakfast again.”

“That’s it?” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Nobody has been stung, bitten, cut, or sacrificed to the Maya gods?”

“Not yet but the day is young.”

“Real funny. What day is it anyway?”

“Saturday.
Gatita
, you can’t keep falling asleep at your desk like this. You’re no spring chicken anymore. You’ll get a crick in your neck and your back.”

She wiped the sleep from her eyes. “Why are you really here, besides to harass me?”

He pulled a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and papaya out from behind his back. “To provide nourishment.”

“Ah,
mi amor
,” she said, taking the plate.

“Are you calling
me
your love or the food?”

“Both, but especially the bacon.”

“Speaking of pig.” He pulled out two thick tortillas. “I brought something for Stinky Poo, too. Where is he?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that Rover is not a pig, nor does he stink … not yet anyway.” She stabbed her fork into her eggs and shrugged. “I’m not sure where he is this morning. He’s been spending a lot of time in Quint’s tent lately.”

“Joint custody it is. That’s nice.”

“Knock it off. Quint feeds him more than I do. Rover’s stomach rules his actions.”

“What? It’s nice you’ve found a new
friend
.” He pushed aside a stack of books on her cot and sat down. “You know, I’m not getting any younger and neither are you.”

“Where’s this going?” She crunched on the bacon.

“It would be nice to hear the pitter patter of little feet around this place.”

She should have known. “I’ll buy you some baby ducks. They can waddle behind you wherever you go.”

“I’m serious. Quint is a nice young man, and—”

She held up her hand. “Stop right there.”

“What do you have against him?”

“Dad, I don’t even know him.”

“He’s been here for almost two weeks. How much more time do you need to work your magic?”

“Jared and I were together almost a year before we got married.”

“And look how that worked out for you. It’s plain to see that giving you too much time to get to know a man isn’t the solution. You need to speed things up.”

“Well, then, why don’t
you
court Quint for a couple of weeks and let me know when the time is right for me to jump in and get hitched.”

“That’s absurd.”

“What’s absurd is us having this discussion.”

“You still don’t trust him.”

“Not completely, no.” She popped a piece of papaya in her mouth.

“He’s staying on to help us out.”

“True, but how do I know that he isn’t staying for the sake of that damned article, which,” she paused in emphasis, “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of since he arrived. And have you considered that maybe he’s staying for some other reason that has to do with Dr. Hughes?” It would be shortsighted to totally ignore Jared’s warning.

“Dr. Hughes is dead. Why would Quint want to stay because of him?”

“Hell, I don’t know. At this point, I’m keeping both Quint and Jared under a microscope.”

“You’re wasting energy watching Quint. Jared, on the other hand, is a whole other case.”

“Jared is nothing more than a paper tiger.”

“Maybe so, but I’d rather he not be here when we find the shell.” Juan plucked a couple of clean socks off her pillow and folded them together, reminding her of her mother. Next he would be telling her to clean her tent, just like old times. “He wants something down here.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugged. “Call it father’s intuition.”

“I’ll call it ‘father’s in an institution’ if you keep up this kind of talk about Quint and me.”

“Cute,
gatita
, but mark my words. Jared is up to no good. I can see it on his face when he watches you.”

She wiped her hands on a dirty T-shirt drooped over the back of her chair. “Well, I can’t find the shell, so it doesn’t matter how he looks at me.”

“What? I thought the answer was in that chamber.”

“If it is, then I’m blind.”

“Have you read through all of the glyphs?” Juan asked.

“Most. They tell factual things such as the date when the king died, his lineage, which takes up lots of space on the wall, and details of his wealth. But nothing about the shell.”

“How can that be? The
stela
showed him with the shell on his necklace.”

“I know. Maybe there are two different kings with similar names.” She rubbed her forehead. “Maybe the carver of the
stela
was using artistic license to exaggerate what the shell really looked like.”

“That shell is in that temple,
gatita
, but you’re tired and frustrated and a little overstressed, so it’s easier to give up right now than dig in and figure out the truth.”

She studied the lines fanning from his eyes. “I don’t know where to look next.”

“I’ll tell you what. Finish that last piece of papaya, take a shower, put on some fresh clothes, and go back in there tomorrow with Quint and just let your mind wander.”

“I’ll go back, but I’m not taking Quint.”

“Angélica,” he started in that stern, fatherly voice. The one that made her feel twelve all over again.

“No, Dad. We can’t spare the manpower. We’re behind schedule as it is. Believe me, I’ll be better off working alone than with Quint sitting there watching me.”

He sighed in resignation. “Fine. I’ll take Jared with me in the Dawn Temple and send Quint and Pedro with Fernando to work on clearing out the rubble from Sub Chamber M in the Owl Temple. When Francisco gets back from the village later this morning, he can direct the others as they finish going through the middle GOK pile.”

Juan stood, coming over and squeezing her shoulder. “We’ll take care of the Mexican government’s To-Do checklist for this year. You find that shell.”

* * *

For lunchtime entertainment in the mess tent, Steel and Juan were performing a high-noon, verbal shootout. Quint watched the bullets flying back and forth along with Pedro and Fernando, none of them saying a word.

“While I concur that you have more experience in the field of structural architecture,” Steel said to Juan, “I believe that your methods are antiquated.”

Taking the last bite of his tangy, pork-filled taco, Quint’s gaze bounced back and forth between the two archaeologists. Juan’s face was lined with tension while his body appeared relaxed. Steel’s face showed no emotion as he methodically cut his taco into smaller and smaller symmetrical pieces.

Who cuts a freaking taco? Nut jobs, that was who.

Juan took a sip of his coffee, his eyes narrowing as if he were either weighing his next words or the effects of dumping his drink on Steel’s head. Quint couldn’t tell which, but hoped like hell for the latter.

“Trust me,” Juan spoke evenly. “The beams will hold.”

“I didn’t say they wouldn’t. I said there are better, more modern methods to use that are less costly. Something you need to consider when petitioning for future grant money.”

Pedro grunted something that sounded like “asshole” in Spanish, then he rose from the table with his empty plate and headed toward the counter.

Juan set his cup on the table with a small
thud
, splashing some coffee over the rim. “Point taken, Jared. Thank you for the advice.”

Fernando shook his head, standing with his plate in hand. He looked down at Quint. “See you after your
siesta
.”

“Actually, Fernando,” Juan said, “I need Quint this afternoon. I believe Jared would be of more use to you.”

Fernando’s lips thinned.

Juan pointed at Fernando with his cup. “He could help you with the reconstruction of the fresco-covered wall.”

A muscle at the back of Fernando’s jaw twitched.

“Ah, yes, that fresco.” Steel laid his fork on his half-finished plate and frowned up at Fernando. “I noticed the last time I was in there that your grids were not lined up properly.”

Fernando gave Steel a flat stare, and then he turned to Juan and said something in Mayan. Juan fought back a grin but said nothing. Without another word, Fernando walked away, dropping his plate on the counter with a clang.

Juan looked at Steel. “Fernando can’t wait to hear your thoughts on how to finish the wall.”

Chuckling under his breath, Quint checked the tent entrance for the umpteenth time since he’d arrived for lunch. Where was Angélica? She’d skipped breakfast this morning; probably too busy working on deciphering the copies of those glyphs to remember food equals energy. He’d noticed Juan leaving the mess tent with a plate full of food and figured it was for her, which had killed his excuse for going to see her earlier. Now he wondered if anyone was taking her lunch.

Francisco appeared in the entrance, his gaze locking onto Quint.

“
Señor
Parker.” Francisco joined them, holding out a package covered with Express labels.

Quint took the package. “
Gracias
.” He scanned the return address before stuffing the package partly under his thigh. It was from Jeff.

“Who’s that from?” Steel nosed in.

None of your damned business.
“A friend.”

“You’ve received a lot of those Express envelopes since you arrived.”

“What’s your point?”

“You must have a lot of these so-called friends, or one in particular who misses you dearly.” Steel pointed his fork at Juan. “Doesn’t it make you wonder why your photojournalist keeps receiving all of these mysterious Express packages? What could be so important that it couldn’t wait for him to get back home?”

Quint kept silent. He wasn’t going head to head with Steel in front of Juan today. For one, Angélica’s father was too sharp and might catch something Quint let slip in the heat of battle. For another, it was too damned hot to fight.

Juan shrugged, swishing the coffee in his cup. “Not really. Quint’s business is his own.” He glanced up at Quint with a devilish glint in his eyes, and then returned to Steel. “You of all people should understand that, Jared. If memory serves me right, you once had a talk with me about interfering with your marriage.”

A spasm of irritation flashed across Steel’s features. “I’d forgotten about that. It’s interesting how time dims the importance of such minor annoyances.”

“Interesting, indeed.” Juan stood. “Quint, if you’re up to it, I’d like to skip a
siesta
and get busy at the Dawn Temple as soon as possible.”

Quint would rather find out what was in the package. Mrs. Hughes’ notes were getting him nowhere fast. But that would have to wait. “I’m right behind you.” He grabbed his plate and the package, rising.

“Parker.” Steel had waited until Juan was out of earshot to speak.

Quint paused.

“I wonder how Angélica is going to react later tonight when I tell her that you received another package.”

The fucker just had to have something to hold over everyone’s heads. That was how he’d controlled the crew back when Dr. Hughes had ruled the roost, and probably how he’d manipulated Angélica and her father for years. It was no wonder she’d left him; she was way too headstrong for Steel to keep under his thumb for long.

“Good luck with that.” Dealing with Steel was like stepping in dog poop. No matter how hard he tried to scrape the piece of shit off the bottom of his shoe, Quint couldn’t quite get rid of the dickhead—nor his nastiness. Not even after twenty long years.

Steel smirked, stabbing a bite of taco. “I wanted to let you know ahead of time so you could start packing.”

Christ! Were they still fighting over this bone?

“There’s something you need to get straight.” Quint leaned over the table, waiting for Steel to meet him eye-to-eye. “When it comes to this dig site
and
your ex-wife, I’m not going anywhere.”