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Isabella spent the better part of the night hunched over a table in the mess tent, copying the symbols and meanings from Virgil’s book into her journal. She categorized them under labels of names, places, times, and events, discovering more and more about the story not only on the tablet but also on the altar wall.
Exhaustion blurred her eyes and her hand began to cramp. She had one section in the book left to go through, but could hardly keep her eyes open. Closing the book, she slipped her journal into her vest pocket and tucked the book under her arm. She’d get some sleep then tackle the remainder of the symbols in the morning.
The air outside cooled the sweat she’d developed while concentrating inside the hot tent. A shiver tickled her skin. She smiled. After setting foot in this country, she didn’t think a person could shiver here. She stared at the shower tent. Even the tepid water that collected in the tank above the shower stall would be inviting tonight.
At her tent, she tucked Virgil’s book under her bedding, plucked a clean shirt and underwear off the rope holding the mosquito netting, and picked up her bag of toiletries. In the shower tent, she slung her vest over the partition between the two shower stalls, undressed, and slipped under the wonderful stream of water washing away the salty tang of sweat and vile DEET from her face, hair, and body. She lathered up her hair. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Her vest slipped over the partition and out of sight.
More concerned about her garment and its contents than her nakedness, she flung the curtain back and stepped out to catch Walsh pilfering the pockets on her vest.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She crammed her fists on her naked bony hips and balanced her weight to throw a front snap kick.
Walsh froze. His gaze slowly moved up the length of her. His perusal only fanned her outrage. His beady eyes met hers. Another time and place she might have felt intimidated. Since setting foot in this country she’d learned you couldn’t cower. You had to take action.
“What are you doing with my vest?”
“I was about to take a shower and this bloody thing was hanging over the partition. I took it down so it wouldn’t get wet.” He made a half-hearted effort to hand the vest to her. “I feel sorry for any gent wanting to ball you,” he added, his gaze dropping to her breasts then her bony hips.
“I feel sorry for any female wanting to consort with the likes of you.” She snatched her vest from him. “If I’m so unattractive why were you putting your hands all over me the other...” He wanted something in my vest then. “Get out of here before I scream and bring the whole camp in here to see you acting like a lecher.” She stepped back into the shower stall, clutching her vest to her body. What did he want out of her vest?
Her journal.
He wanted the information she’d collected.
Isabella remained still inside the curtain, listening for his retreat. Blood pulsed in her ears, whooshing and hindering her ability to recognize if his footsteps retreated. The tent trembled as someone opened the flap. She counted to ten then stuck her head out.
Empty.
She hung her vest inside the stall and finished rinsing her hair. How far would Walsh go to get the journal? She’d have to be more cautious from now on.
Isabella dressed and walked across the compound. She should tell Tino about this latest attempt by Walsh. But she didn’t know how to find him thanks to Virgil. She dropped her toiletries and dirty clothes inside her tent.
The artifact tent. Tino said he’d come to her there. Her heart accelerated walking toward the tent. If he wasn’t inside, she’d wait for him.
“Tino? Hello?” She listened. Silence as heavy as the darkness of the tent closed in around her.
She began to shake. The encounter with Walsh flashed in her mind. He could have harmed her and dumped her body in the jungle and no one would have ever known what happened to her. Did he know someone was willing to pay half a million for the ceremony translation? Was he capable of murder to get it?
A waft of air blew across her wet head. She tried to peer into the darkness. Her heart hammered in her chest. Did Walsh follow her? She took a defensive stance and waited, breathing slow and easy to still her romping heart.
Something landed on her shoulder.
She spun and kicked.
“Ouch. Ezzabella, querida.”
Isabella sucked in air and groped in the dark for Tino.
“I’m sorry, I-I...” She broke down sobbing in Tino’s arms.
“Querida, shush, I am here. I did not mean to scare you.” He whispered against her ear as his strong arms held her against his solid body.
When her tears subsided, she uncurled from his comforting embrace and wiped at her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I thought you were Walsh.”
Tino cursed in Spanish. “Are you hurt?” His deep voice laced with anger sounded like an animal’s growl. “I knew leaving you was not good.”
“Shhh. I’m fine.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his.
His hands skimmed up and down her body as if he couldn’t believe until he’d checked himself.
“What happened?” Tino asked, continuing to hold Isabella close. His anger was slowly receding as he held her and felt her body relaxing. If he hadn’t been ready for her defensive move, he would have been on the ground at her feet rather than enjoying her in his arms.
“While I was taking a shower Walsh tried to steal my vest.”
Rage rekindled in his gut. “Why? How did you stop him?” He leaned back wishing he could see her eyes, but the darkness prevented his assessing her answers.
“I saw my vest slip over the partition and stepped out of the shower and confronted him.
“Naked? You confronted a man I told you was dangerous naked?” His rage morphed into astonishment and fear. “Mujer loca.”
“He didn’t like what he saw.”
The hurt in her voice cooled his rage.
“That is his loss. But pichón, how did you get your vest back?”
“I confronted him and yanked it away. Now I know why he was groping me the other night. He’s after my journal.” The hard edge in her voice had him waiting for what else she had to say. “He’s trying to learn what I know and sell the information.”
Her last statement lost him. “What do you mean sell the information?” She squirmed to move from his arms. He pulled her snugger against him, “Oh no. What do you mean by that?”
“Virgil said if we deciphered this ceremony a Mayan artifact collector would pay us half a million.”
His gut clenched. He’d never thought of her as money hungry. He knew her work here would help her project but he’d assumed through a paper she wrote.
“Why would you need that kind of money?”
“To fund my department. If I don’t get that funding, they’re shutting us down, and it will take me years to reestablish the project and get the backing to continue.” The desperation in her voice made him wonder if greed would win out over what was right.
He released her and was glad for the dark. He didn’t want to see her face right now. Or her to see the bleak thoughts going through his mind. Confusion muddled his gut instincts which said Isabella would do what was right, but he also had witness to the passion she had for discovering the past.
They stood in silence in the dark interior of the tent. It was foolish to jeopardize his mission for this woman but he couldn’t walk away knowing this latest information.
“You should let me carry your journal. That way you will not be a target.” He reached out making contact with her vest. He grabbed the garment and pulled her to him.
She slapped at his arm. “No! My life’s notes are in that book. I need them to decipher the tablet, and I’ll not cower to the likes of Walsh. He’d be stupid to try anything else.”
“I will not allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.” The minute the words slipped out his lips he wanted to retract them.
“You won’t allow me?” She leaned forward. Her breath puffed across his face. Any closer and he could kiss her. Not a bad idea. She made defensive maneuvers avoiding his kiss.
“I don’t belong to you or anyone. No one can tell me what to do. I’m not a child. I’m a woman, and I can take care of myself. I always have and always will.”
He grasped her shoulders, pulled her roughly against him, and kissed her until she relaxed in his arms. Tino pulled back only enough to speak. He loved being nose to nose with her and inhaling the air she inhaled. “Mi pichón, you have become very precious to me. I know you do not belong to me like property, but you have sprouted roots in my heart.” He kissed her again. “When you hurt, I hurt. When you soar, I soar.” He held her away, cursing the darkness, and wished he could make eye contact. “I just want you to be safe.”
Isabella trailed her fingers down his cheek. The tender touch squeezed his heart. His abuela said he would meet a woman who would understand him and become his world. He had met her in this imp with a genius IQ, and he hoped like hell he could keep her alive long enough to show Isabella the real Tino Kosta, not the person he’d become in the last eight years.
Isabella sighed. “When you kiss me like that, I believe you. But I learned how to take care of myself a long time ago.”
“Like confronting Walsh naked?” He still couldn’t believe she’d been so loco. Rash thinking like that didn’t equate with the logical woman.
“I couldn’t let whoever took my vest get away with it. Like I said, it holds my life’s work.”
“There are times when you remind me of a child and others when you have the cojones of a military leader.”
She snorted and laughed. “No one has ever accused me of having cojones before.”
He smiled at the way she said cojones. It sounded sexier on her lips than any other time he’d heard the word. He had to steer his thoughts away from Isabella and sex. While she claimed to be a woman who could take on anyone, her heart and body were still as fragile as a teenager.
He had to make her see the dangers. “The rock I moved in the altar chamber blocks a tunnel that leads to a stash of drugs in a cave. Do not go down that tunnel and do not work in the altar room alone. There is no telling who may come through that tunnel.”
“How did you find the cave?”
Should he tell her everything? She had the right to know who to trust and who not to. It could mean her safety.
“I have been following Walsh. He has met several times with narcos. Once was at the entrance to the cave.”
She leaned against his chest. “I knew he was up to something. He doesn’t take care of his responsibilities around here. Why on earth did Virgil hire him?”
“Walsh is known to gamble and sell artifacts to cover his debts.”
Her body stiffened in his arms. He could feel her digesting the information and tabulating her thoughts.
“I bet he’s behind the locals sneaking through the tunnel with artifacts. He could know the value of the items dug up.” She talked to herself and slid her arms around his middle, hugging him and warming his body better than a good shot of tequilla.
“If he’s giving the artifacts to the...what did you call them? Narcos? Do you think he’s also dealing in drugs?” She leaned back as if trying to look into his face. “And Virgil. He needs funding. Do you think he’d stoop as low as to help the narcos to keep digging?”
He didn’t like the way her thoughts had headed. If she kept playing with all the what if’s she could get caught up in more trouble than he could get her out of. He’d been pondering the same thoughts and feared neither Walsh or Martin had enough authority over the narcos to keep anyone alive if things got rough.
“Pretend we know nothing.” He gathered her hand, playing with her fingers. “You are going to have to continue doing whatever it is you do at the dig and forget what I have told you. I do not want something happening to you because of something I said. And while you are doing your job, I will do mine.” He kissed her knuckles. “Ezzabella, promise me you will not say a word or go sleuthing about the dig.”
“I promise I won’t go poking into things that don’t pertain to deciphering the tablet.”
Her promise would have appeased him if he hadn’t felt her legs brush his as she crossed them.