“Kill the damned lights, Melody!”
Pierce’s feet crunched on the road while he zigged and zagged to avoid getting shot. It was one of four sounds; the senses strip down to the essentials in times like this. His brain only processed the sound of his feet pounding the gravel, his heart punching against his eardrums, a bullet racing for his back and Melody shouting, “What’s going on?”
Who asks that while getting shot at? Apparently, the same type of woman who didn’t freak out at the prospect of getting shot. She wasn’t crying or driving off in the other direction. She just looked pissed. Woe to the men trying to kill her if she ever caught up with them.
“What the hell have you done, Pierce?”
And maybe woe to himself. “The lights,” he screamed. “Off. Sooner is better than later.”
The jeep faded away from direct view. His ears took over again. His breathing, his feet, the bullets and the deep crunch of slow moving tires. Good girl. She was still coming for him.
When the awkward square of the vehicle was within his sights, he heaved himself into the seat. Glass pierced his left hand on the cushion. “Are you hit?” he asked, shining his flashlight across her face.
“Lights!” she hissed back, then in one of the best three-point turns he’d ever seen, she whipped that jeep around and jetted down the road.
“You okay?”
“Peachy.”
“Shot?”
“Got lucky.”
He wanted to see her face again to make sure she was okay. To perhaps see if there was a hint of excitement on her lips. He thought he’d heard it. She’d handled this a little too well to be not enjoying it. He sure as fuck was.
Pierce leaned back into the bucket seat a bit. Feeling the bundle of the antique knocking against his spine with each bump in the road warmed his thieving heart. He’d done it. Hell, yeah, he’d done it.
Melody snapped her fingers above the wheel. “Why do I see teeth? You’d better not be smiling.”
Perhaps his initial assessment was off. “Sorry?”
She blew out a long gush of air. “I don’t want to be a nag...”
“You’re not. Not at all, Mels. Can I call you that? I feel like we’ve been through—”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“You may not call me Mels,” she said with all the love of venom dripping from an asp’s forked tongue. “You have gravely misjudged something.”
“I do believe you’re right. So...I should explain.”
“Do that.”
“Okay.” He owed her the truth for getting shot at. Or at least, a truth for helping him not get shot. “So, look...”
“It’s not a monastery is it?” she asked, slowing the car.
He cleared his throat and drummed his knuckles against her too-nice thigh. “You’re going to want to keep going. I doubt we’re done being shot at for the night.”
Melody jammed the gas and swore under her breath. “Guess that answers my question. Look, I get that you can’t tell me everything, but when my life is in danger, I have the right to know what’s up.”
“Your life wouldn’t have been in danger—”
“Don’t you dare say it.”
“Right, so, uh, still a monastery and still monks inside.” She snorted and shifted gear, but kept her mouth shut. He snatched the opportunity to clear the gunpowder-scented air between them. “I mean, Melody, it is a legit monastery and there are monks inside it, though it’s safe to assume it wasn’t the monks shooting at us.”
“Shooting at you. Point of clarification.”
“Noted. Listen, Melody—”
“What you’re really saying is that you hadn’t expected to find bodyguards at a church and they housed your ass.”
“Not exactly. I don’t think they were hired by the church. Probably one of the buyers wanted to make sure that his goods were safe.”
“Buyers of what, Pierce? Are you a crackhead?”
“No.”
“Crack dealer?”
“No, no one is doing anything with crack. Jesus, woman.”
“Were you, or were you not shot at?”
“Well, I—”
“And did I, or did I not narrowly miss getting a windshield inside my face?” she screeched, hands up and clawing by her lava-red face.
“And whose fault is that?”
Bad idea.
The woman’s eyes went from the color of spring on a Sunday to gunmetal blue. “Uh, your fault. What was the big deal anyway? Why were you even there? You said buyers. If this is a drug deal of any kind, I swear to God...”
He flickered on his flashlight again. “Windshield in your face? You said you were okay.”
“Don’t dodge the question.”
He hadn’t been trying to. He was simply recovering from a stomach that twisted in on itself at the sight of tiny nicks in a thin line across her jaw. “When I ask if you’re okay, I expect to be told the truth.”
“You are fucking kidding me.”
But he’d gone into full doctor mode, putting down his gun and shrugging off his backpack. He kept his medical kit in a special compartment at the top. Easy access and all that. She clicked her tongue and pulled away when he started cleaning her wounds, but only for a moment. “Pull over. I need to bandage this up.”
“It’s nothing.”
“True. I think we should keep it that way. We don’t need any germs getting in there and causing an infection. We’ve got a rough road ahead.”
“No.”
“Might scar.”
“Do you actually think I’m vain enough to risk getting shot in hopes of avoiding a little scarring?”
He shrugged and dabbed a little more antiseptic on her chin. “I am. I love my pretty face. That’s a joke. Smile.”
The jeep rolled to a stop, but when he tried to dress her wound, she shoved his hand away and snatched the bandage from him. “I know this is just a job for you. And I totally get that you love your job. Really, I get it. But I love my job too. Here’s the difference between you and me. If I screw up down here, I don’t just ruin my own life. My mom and sister need me to run that business. We’re a team. They depend on me. The least I can do is wait to die in a country where my insurance will spot the bill.”
“I’ll make sure your insurance covers your death in Mexico.”
She plopped back against the seat and closed her eyes. “Thanks, you ass.”
“You’re welcome.”
She threw the bandages back at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Fix my pretty face.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She kept quiet as he worked. Not moving. Not making a sound. If it hurt, she didn’t show it. He’d only admired her strength before – her presence of mind. Running a business was no small thing. It took guts and determination. But above all that, she was loyal. Even now in the face of danger, she wasn’t scared for herself, but for everyone around her. Noble. The word was better suited to her than to him. He could grow to care for someone like that. “We never discussed the subject of payment.”
That sweet face of hers turned to ice beneath his fingertips. “Excuse me?”
“I was thinking at least a month of free chocolate when we get back. It’s not such a drive from where I am.”
The purpling sky revealed an upturned lip. “Just a month?”
“Well, I might not like the chocolate. Sometimes sweet things have a kick to them in the end. I might not be man enough to handle it. I say a month of concentrated effort of trying your chocolate. Just to see if it takes.”
Melody’s long lashes swooped down. He couldn’t help himself and brushed a bit of hair from her face. She laughed and slapped his hand away. “Don’t. You’ll see my massive forehead. I have this haircut for a reason.”
His mouth didn’t give him a heads-up on what it was going to do. But his body followed its lead and his lips brushed a kiss across that pretty impressive noggin of hers. He lingered a little longer than was proper, but of all the things he thought about with his lips on her body, propriety wasn’t one of them. “Maybe two months of concentrated effort. You know, just to see if I like it.”
“At least.”
“At least,” he agreed. He was many things, but no one ever called him stupid. The woman was smart, though, and loyal. Not following up with this would be the dumbest thing he had done in many years. Well, hours. For sure, he had to start this off on the right foot. Melody’s innate nobility demanded a modicum of truth. At least, as much truth as he could give her.
Ambra?
Telling her about that would take a lot more than them getting shot at on their first date. But some of the particulars, she was owed. “So, the mission. I had to get something out of the monastery. You’ve heard of the Mayan Empire?”
“The basics from high school. An early people, wiped out by the Spanish when they arrived.”
He shook his head as he added more ointment. “Not wiped out. Never that. Those people were...are strong. They survived the Toltecs and the Aztecs. Their descendants are all over Mexico today. Mayan derivative languages are still a first language for millions of people. Don’t let history books tell you that Spanish guns and germs took out everyone.”
The chin beneath his hand softened as he finished up. “Look at you. You love this stuff. You just went from hot doctor to asshole, and now hot nerd.”
“But I hot?” he asked, managing to get his eyebrow as high up as nature would allow. He’d stolen more than a few hearts with this look. “Something told me to take my contacts out on the plane. I should have listened. You’ll love me in glasses. Anyway, my point is that most American schools teach about the Maya after European arrival. Fewer mention the Olmecs.”
“Who?”
“Exactly.”
“They predate the Maya by centuries. All the cool Mayan things from languages and calendars to sports and medicine were all based on earlier Olmec models.”
Melody pulled away, checking out his work in the rearview mirror. “You geeked out even harder when you mentioned medicine.”
“Like you and that pozol?”
“Point taken. So you’re here because of the Olmecs.”
“Olmec art is hard to find. Aside from Spanish priests wrecking everything in the name of religious purity, Olmec artifacts have been lost or smashed for eons. So when people sell things...” He twisted to scoop the priceless slice of awesomeness from his bag. “Things like this medicine man statuette, collectors lose their minds over it. Anything having to do with ancient medicine—”
“Time-out.”
“Yeah?”
Her finger drew W-shaped forms of confusion in the air. “If it is, was, for sale, then why were people shooting at us?”
“About that, we’ve lingered a bit too long here. If they ran back for cars, they probably have them now. We should get going.”
“Answer the question, Pierce. If your life wasn’t in danger when you were trying to flirt, it’s not in danger now.”
It wasn’t his life he was concerned about. Though the way her eyes narrowed, maybe he should be. “I meant what I said about my job. I skipped out on the part that I didn’t have clearance to be here. My boss runs a tight ship.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Not if you can make a beer run to Mexico.”
“He’s out on assignment. Along with the second in control. Everyone’s supposed to hang close to home, including me. Technically, I’m on call.”
“From Mexico.”
“It’s no different than going home for the night and showing up late the next day.”
“Today, you mean?”
He dropped his head in his hands and tried not to think of it. He could be on his way home now, but he’d made a promise to the woman and damned if he’d pull out after getting her shot at. “It’ll be fine.”
“Are you saying you stole this?”
“Stole is too harsh of a word,” he said, placing his hand over hers on the steering wheel. She backhanded it away. “Is this going to affect our first date?”
“The fact that you stole from monks? Yes. Are you freaking kidding me with this?”
“I’m not clearly explaining the technicalities of it am I?”
“Is there a better way of saying 'I stole from the church’?” With each word out of her mouth, she pulled back. If this discussion went on too long, she’d been hanging out the damned car.
“I thought we were in a better place.”
“We. Are. Not. What kind of jerk steals from a monastery?”
“I had to. I wasn’t supposed to be here.”
“That doesn’t make it okay,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder. “You just stole from Jesus Christ.”
“So you’re religious then?”
“Not really, but I’m also not an asshat who steals from Jesus Freaking Christ. God!” She turned over the engine and without another word to him, started speeding away. She hit every hole and divot in the road, but damned if he’d tell her to be careful.
And yet, he wanted to talk to her. Make her understand. He couldn’t have her thinking that she’d come down here to catch a thief, only to wind up making dinner plans with one. “Melody—”
“How can you look at yourself in the mirror?”
“I look at myself just fine. Because I can’t be here to legally participate in the auction, doesn’t mean that the good monks of the monastery won’t be rolling in dough. I’ve got the money held and waiting. Within hours, it will be sent anonymously to their bank. See? Still a good guy.”
He held up his phone, showing her his account’s home page – the one that showed how many commas were in his bottom line. Rolling eyes aside, he might have impressed her. Or not. Okay, he moved on to the screen showing the transfer. “If you’ll just slide that little bar over, the money can be deposited as early as—”
“Shut up and just do it.”
He did. With flourish and a smile. “There. Are we friends again?”
“Don’t know. Are you still the guy who stole from the church?”
“Lady, I’m also the guy who just gave them a small fortune worth way more than what they would have gotten for the artifact. Trust me, this wasn’t the centerpiece of the lot.”
“That’s not the—” She slammed on the brakes so fast that the back wheels jumped and squealed. She screamed, but never once let go of the wheel.
Good.
Let her handle that. He had bigger fish to fry. Namely, the three men at the cross section with handguns pointed directly at their faces.