Words of Love (11 page)

A deep sigh whispered shallowly from her lungs and, though her eyes remained closed, her eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly.

“Sleep,” Brett whispered as he settled down on his side.

Her face cleared and a tiny smile curved her soft, pink lips, and in moments she was asleep. With his head propped up on his hand, he watched her. Wonder and longing and sheer happiness mixed in his chest and
 
realization suddenly dawned on him–he was in love. As he lay his head down and closed his eyes, he smiled.

• • • • •

Jesse woke with a start. She’d been dreaming.

“What is it?” Brett murmured from behind her in the dark.

As she lay on her side, she felt his arm around her middle draw her closer. Then he brought his knees up behind her knees.

She relaxed.

“A dream,” she said, quietly.

She realized that the tent was incredibly quiet. The rain had stopped.

“Good or bad,” he said, nuzzling into her neck.

“Bad,” she said and he stopped moving. “The Blood Gatherer.”

“That’s tomorrow,” he whispered. “We’ll find the Red King tomorrow.”

Though she couldn’t see him, she pictured him smiling at the thought.

“The Blood Gatherer is waiting for us, Brett. I feel it.”

“I’m counting on it,” he said. “Now sleep.”

He sounded sleepy and though she knew she ought to do exactly that, she knew she probably wouldn’t. Somehow the glyphs held the answer to the last test. The stela had already warned them.
 

“Those who do not understand, die.”

As they made their way across the plaza, Brett was already publishing the find of the century in his mind. In his right hand, he carried the blue jade stone, though he’d tagged and bagged it. In his left he held the lantern. The jade stone would be the featured photo for the article.

The department would have no choice but to promote him to full professor and tenure would shortly follow. Jesse was striding along beside him, also holding a lantern. Maybe they could publish together–of course. Why not? She does all the translation. It’d be quite a coup for a student to publish, especially–

He almost tripped and slowly came to a stop.

“Brett, what’s the matter?” Jesse said. He looked at her and blinked and his mouth was suddenly like cotton. “God, you look awful,” she said, stepping closer, her voice tense. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m going to be fired,” he said in a dry throat.

“
What?
” She blinked several times. “I don’t understand.”

He shook his head as he felt a sickening, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“You’re a student,” he whispered. “Oh, god. What have I done?”

“Stop it, Brett,” Jesse said, her voice taking on a tinge of panic. “You’re scaring me.”

“Scaring you? I think my career is over.”

“But why?” she pleaded.

“Because you’re a
student
.”

“I’m an adult,” she replied quickly. “And I’m not even your student. We’re in different departments.”

He shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said as the shock started to hit home. “Do you remember what happened to that math professor?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, feeling a little nauseous.

“It does matter. Tell me.”

“He was fired. They were even
engaged
. She was a student in geography.” He shook his head again. “Oh god.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she argued. “How can–”

“Zero tolerance,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “The new university policy. How many emails did I see? How many training sessions hammered it home? I’d never worried about it before…”

“Then we won’t tell anybody,” she said.

He stared at her.

“You think they won’t know? You think they won’t assume, like they already do? Only this time, it’ll be true.”

He looked down at the blue jade in the plastic bag, not even seeing it. Had it all been for nothing? His mind was reeling. What were the options? What could he do? Then he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“We can’t be together.” Jesse backed up a pace as though he’d struck her and the utter shock in her face instantly made him regret the words. “Not at first,” he said, quickly.

But the damage was done.

She backed away from him, looking as unsteady as he felt.

“No, Jesse,” he said, reaching toward her. But she spun away, gripping her stomach, and staggered a few steps before she began to run, back to camp. “Jesse,” he gasped, trying to get his breath, as he sank to his knees.

He stared at the ground.

“Oh my god,” he muttered. “What have I done?”

Frederico throttled the engine back.

That was his boat all right. He angled toward it.

The Zodiac was tied off at a muddy embankment. The rope was stretched taut as the swollen river tried to take the boat away. He looked up at the jungle behind it.

This was an area he’d always meant to explore. But the rich finds that surrounded it were more than enough to keep him busy.
 

What did that gringo find?

“Ernesto,” he barked. “Get the rope and tie off the boat.”

As the two boats bumped, Ernesto jumped into the water and quickly waded ashore.
 

Frederico jockeyed the boat as Ernesto tied a knot and then he killed the engine. He picked up Ernesto’s rifle and tossed it to him. Ernesto caught it with both hands. Then he took his pistol from its holster and tossed him that too, followed by the burlap sacks.

Then, he stepped from his boat to the other.

Two life jackets.

That’s right. The woman had been with him this time. He smirked. This might actually be fun.

He pulled his hat down tight, stepped onto the edge of the boat, and jumped all the way to the mud.

Ernesto immediately handed him the pistol. He thumbed the cylinder open out of habit, checked the bullets, and snapped it back closed before holstering it. His other hand went to the handle of the machete.

He pushed past Ernesto onto what looked like a small footpath.
 

“Follow me,” Frederico said.

Jesse stifled a sob with her hand as she stumbled back into camp.

What an idiot.

She came to a stop, her eyes full of tears, staring at the tent. Had she and Brett only been here a couple of days? It felt like a lifetime. She and Brett had made love in that tent only yesterday.

She angrily shook her head.

“Fool,” she muttered.

She’d
really
deluded herself this time–a guy like him and someone like her. Here he was, on the verge of the most important archaeological discovery of all time.

And she was a Jittery Jessica.

His stricken face hung in the air in front of her when he’d realized they couldn’t be together. The words he’d said rang in her ears. She pushed her hands down over them and shut her eyes.

‘We can’t be together.’

Now she did sob.
 

He’d looked as pained as she felt–as though a knife stabbed deeply into her chest. She clutched it as she staggered toward the tent. Inside, she fell on her bed, still crying, and instantly curled into a ball.

She had completely fallen for him–had even been on the verge of saying it. And for a moment, for just a moment, she had thought he loved her too.

And maybe he did–
but not more than he loved the site
.

• • • • •

Brett remained on his knees.
 

Still breathing hard, he stared down at the Jester God on the blue jade tablet in the plastic bag. Then he looked in the direction of the other six caves. Not one hundred yards away lay the most fabulous burial of all time and, in his hand, he held the clue that would unlock it.

Thanks to Jesse.

He looked in the opposite direction, across the main plaza of the Maya ruins, back toward camp.

Jesse
.

He didn’t
want
them to be apart. It was the last thing he wanted. And he hadn’t intended to hurt her either. But that’s exactly what he’d just done. His one hand clenched into a fist and the other gripped the jade tablet.
 

What kind of ass am I?

It was his obsession, he told himself. The burial in the seventh cave was going to make his career–set him on an upward trajectory like a rocket. He’d sacrificed his marriage for it. He’d risked everything. Brought them through a freaking monsoon.

He took the tablet from the plastic bag.
 

The low relief carving of the Jester God sparkled in the light of the lantern. Suddenly, he imagined himself standing in front of an ornate, carved panel in some subterranean room beneath the stairs where this had been laying. There would be a hole where the strange outline of the tablet would fit. Then the burial of the Red King would be revealed. And, in his imagination, he turned to Jesse.

But she wasn’t there.

He blinked.
 

In that moment of supreme joy at the ultimate achievement, she wouldn’t be there. He wouldn’t be able to share it with her. He would be alone.
 

For the past three years, being alone had been good. It had been necessary but it had also been good. He’d let his obsession have full reign. Over and over, he’d imagined finding the Red King. And always he’d imagined himself alone.

Now, that wasn’t right.

Suddenly, the feeling was hollow.
 

He got to his feet, grabbed the lantern, and headed toward camp.

Frederico turned and motioned for Ernesto to be quiet.

The camp looked deserted but you never knew.
 

As they quietly approached, Frederico took out his pistol.

The cavern entrance had been a complete shock. He’d been about to double back and check for other paths when he heard the faint sound of the muffled generator. Without even seeing the camp, he knew it had to be the place. The camp was only confirmation. All of the supplies that the gringo had transported in Frederico’s boat were here.

But where is the gringo?

He pointed the gun in various directions but there didn’t seem to be anybody. He came to a stop at what looked like a work table. There was a large map–which made him grin. It was so easy when the archaeologists did all the work. He leaned over it and quickly oriented himself. Here was the cave entrance and there–he scowled in disbelief–were six more caves, each one with plan views of ruins drawn in them.
 

The place was
big
.

He’d just been about to look in the direction of the rest of the caves, when something on the map caught his eye. In thick black letters, someone had written “The Red King.”

He froze.
 

The Red King?

He stared hard at the words and then looked around him. No
wonder
the man had kept this a secret.

Suddenly, he heard a sound coming from the tent. He crouched and motioned to Ernesto. With two fingers, he pointed at Ernesto’s eyes and then pointed toward the dark back of the cave.

“You watch,” he mouthed.
 

Ernesto turned to look into the darkness and Frederico crept toward the tent entrance. He could hear more clearly now. It sounded like crying, the crying of a woman. He quickly flipped the tent flap aside and saw her. She was on the bed and a quick look around let him know the man wasn’t here. He holstered the pistol.

When he looked back to her, her eyes had grown wide and she was scrambling off the bed.

“Brett!” she yelled.

Frederico quickly covered the small space between them and cut off her scream with a punch to the stomach. Even through the mosquito netting, the force of it had been enough to double her over and she collapsed.

Frederico went back to the tent flap and flipped it open.

“Find the gringo,” he called to Ernesto and pointed toward the cave. “But don’t kill him. We need him alive.”

• • • • •

The world was a painful haze.

Jesse coughed herself awake and felt a throbbing ache in her midsection. She tried to breathe without using her diaphragm but that was no good. She coughed again, still trying to get a breath. What she wanted to do was hold her stomach but she found her hands wouldn’t move. As she opened her eyes, she realized she couldn’t move her feet either.
 

She was lying on her back and she looked up at her hands. They were tied to the top of the metal frame headboard with what looked like canvas webbing–Brett’s belt. She was on her own bed with her head propped up on pillows. She heard a low chuckling from the other side of the tent.

The netting was gone and Frederico stood in the middle of the tent, looking down at her. This was the man who’d rented them the boat. She tugged at her hands and feet.
 

What was he doing here?

“Brett!” she screamed.

But that only made him grin.

“Where’s the Red King?” he said, stepping over to her.

She knew her mouth must be hanging open but she stared at him, dumbfounded.

How did he–

Where was Brett?

“Tell me where the king is,” Frederico growled lowly. “And you won’t have to suffer–much.”

With that, his hand went to his side and he slowly withdrew a machete.

Jesse suddenly found her voice.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice quavering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Where was Brett? Was he with the Red King? How could she say where the Red King was if she didn’t know where Brett was?

Frederico regarded her with a little disappointment and pointed the machete at her waist. She held her breath as he used the tip to lift the bottom of her tank top and expose her midsection.
 

“That’s a shame,” he said, staring at her skin. “For you.”

He raised the machete up so that she could see it and then he quickly slapped the flat of the blade down on her exposed skin. She gasped at the loud smacking sound and the sudden burning pain, as her hands and feet jerked against the restraints.