Amy felt a rush of gratitude for Nash’s quick thinking. He hadn’t mentioned the broken arrow symbol.
“Hmm,” Dr. Martinez hummed noncommittally. “Well, I won’t keep you from your … research.” The way he emphasized the last word made it clear he suspected there was more to their presence than academic interest.
“Actually, we were just heading back down,” Nash said. “Sadie’s ankle is bothering her.”
Dr. Martinez’s eyes dropped to her taped ankle, then back to her face. “Hiking injury?”
“Something like that,” Amy replied vaguely.
“Well, don’t let me stop you,” Dr. Martinez said, stepping aside to let them pass. “Perhaps we can discuss your findings at our next department meeting, Professor Blair?”
“Of course,” Amy agreed, though the thought made her uneasy.
“I’m going to just stay and check things out.”
Amy’s heart raced.
Nash placed a supportive hand at the small of her back as they started down the trail. “Suit yourself.”
“It was nice meeting you, Mr. Cross,” he called after them.
“You too,” Nash called back, but he kept walking.
As they made their way carefully down the steep path, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Dr. Martinez’s appearance wasn’t a coincidence—and that he knew exactly what they were searching for.
Nash seemed to sense her unease, keeping his voice low as they descended. “Did you notice how he knew exactly where to find us? How did he know which trail to take?”
Amy nodded grimly. “And he’s never hiked a day in his life. All that gear is brand new.”
They glanced back once to find Dr. Martinez still watching them, silhouetted against the sky, his posture unnaturally still.
“I don’t trust him,” Nash murmured.
“Neither do I,” Amy admitted.
As they continued down the mountain, Amy’s mind raced with possibilities. If Dr. Martinez was connected to the Ferrantes, their search for the gold had just become infinitely more dangerous—and more urgent. They needed to find it before he did.
And if he wasn’t connected to the Ferrantes? Then they had another player in this dangerous game, one whose motivations remained a mystery.
Either way, Amy knew one thing for certain: the broken arrow in that cave was just the beginning. Somewhere on this mountain were the answers to questions that had haunted her for eight years.
CHAPTER 9
Nash couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so keenly aware of another person’s presence in his space. As he followed Amy through the front door of his home—her limping slightly despite her insistence that her ankle felt “much better”—he took in the subtle details that had changed since she’d arrived. Her shoes by the door, neatly placed beside his. A textbook on Porter Rockwell open on his coffee table. The scent of her shampoo lingering in the hallway.
It felt strangely right.
“So,” he said, dropping his keys in the bowl by the door. “Dr. Martinez.”
Amy groaned, collapsing onto the couch and propping her injured ankle on the coffee table. “I am so sorry about that. I panicked.”
“About which part?” Nash grinned, enjoying the pink flush that crept up her cheeks. “The part where you told your boss we’re dating, or the part where you almost got us dive-bombed to death by bats?”
She grinned. “Neither of those things were my fault!”
“Sure, sure. Blame the bats. For what it’s worth, I think you handled Martinez well. That guy gives me the creeps.”
Amy leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve worked with him for two years, and I’ve never seen him outside the university. Certainly never hiking.”
