Part One: THE ASSIGNMENT
“Archaeology is like getting into people’s closets, or finding what is lost under the couch, all the dirty little secrets.”
~Craig Childs,Finders Keepers, A Tale of Archaeological Plunder and Obsession
Chapter One
“The jungle is angry.
One century after another, the humans have trespassed.
They slash and burn the trees, scarring the ground.
They burrow under the canopy like chiggers and leech the nutrients from the soil, parasitically sucking the life from the jungle until—”
“Hold up, Parker,” Angélica interrupted Quint mid-sentence, lowering the machete she’d been using to cut a path through the tangled web of palm fronds, vines, and thorn-covered branches. She turned, watching him swat at a swarm of mosquitoes buzzing around his wide-brimmed hat. “In this future Pulitzer Prize–winning piece that you’re practicing on us poor souls, are the humans supposed to be chiggers or leeches or parasites?”
The jungle vibrated around them, loud with chirps and chatters and whistles, along with periodic screeches and howls. The lush tree canopy overhead trembled, the leaves hiding whatever was passing through from one tree to the next.
“Hmm. Maybe a bit of all three.” Quint slapped his neck, then scowled down at his palm. “Christ, that insect repellent you plastered me with isn’t keeping these bloodsuckers at bay. Remind me to add ‘They battled swarms of voracious insects’ to my monologue.”
“Ay yi yi.”She wiped her damp, grit-covered face with her sleeve. “Whose bright idea was it to bring a writer along on this trek?”
“Yours,gatita,” Juan García said, stepping up beside Quint. His silver sideburns glistened as sweat trickled down hischeeks. He pointed his walking stick at her. “I told you that bringing your boyfriend along would be a distraction, but you insisted that after a few days of living amongst the scorpions, biting ants, and snakes, we’d need a pretty face to look at besides each other’s.”
“I didn’t saylookat, Dad.” Although her boyfriend was tall, dark, and definitely man-pretty with those long, thick eyelashes, damn him. She rested her machete on her shoulder, aiming a teasing grin in Quint’s direction. “I said someone tolaughat besides each other. You know as well as I do that Parker works at being an amateur comedian when he’s not playing journalist.”
“Make thatphotojournalist, boss lady.” Quint raised the camera hanging around his neck, focusing at the buttons on the top of it. “And a damned fine one, if I do say so myself.”
“So you claimed this morning at breakfast.” Her dad used his stick to carefully poke at one of the vines Angélica had hacked down, as if it might rear up, hiss, and strike.
Angélica stepped forward and chopped the vine in half with her machete, putting her father’s snake worries to rest.
“And again like a half hour ago,” she said, turning back to Mr. Damned-fine Photojournalist, “while making us wait so you could take pictures of that army of leaf-cutter ants.”
“That was more like a small platoon.” Quint aimed his camera at her and snapped a picture. “That’ll make a good one, Dr. García. All of the sweat and dirt ringing your neck clearly shows how much work it is to cut through this snarled mess you call a rainforest.” He focused his camera slightly lower. “Looks like you might have a tick just below your extra-large, manly Adam’s apple.”
She brushed the bug off her neck. “I don’t have a manly Adam’s apple, Parker, and you know it.” He’d kissed her neck on his way south to her navel too many times to count.
One of his dark eyebrows inched upward. “You sure about that? After watching you swing that machete like a Viking trying to earn a spot in Valhalla for the last twenty minutes, I should probably inspect your chest for new hair growth.”
When she scowled and pretended to threaten him with her machete, he took another photo. “That shot is even better, hot stuff. But next time, maybe you could smile a little so it doesn’t look like you’re half-crazedwith jungle fever.”
She scowled extra hard, adding a sneer for the camera. “I’m going to tie you up later, Parker, and poke your manly parts with a stingray spine. We can always use a blood sacrifice to appease the Maya gods before we start digging.”
He lowered the camera. Laugh lines fanned out from his hazel eyes and rounded his dark, stubble-covered cheeks. “You know I love it when you talk dirty to me, sweetheart.” His tone was playful, but the heat in his gaze spurred a fresh layer of sweat from her head to her toes. “Especially when we’re alone and you’re whispering in Spanish.”
¡Dios mio!She fanned herself with her hat. Even after sharing her bed off and on for months with Quint, the heartbreaker could still make her knees rubbery.
“Parker,” she chastised, glancing pointedly at her father, whose wide grin made it clear he was enjoying her blushes.
“You started it, gorgeous.”
A pair of spider monkeys barked down at them from where they dangled overhead, the tree limbs bobbing under their weight.
“See, the swingers agree with me.” Quint pointed the camera upward at the nosy duo, snapping off more pictures. “Now quit monkeying around, woman. We have ancient temples to find.”
“And that’s another point for your loverboy,” Juan said, pretending to lick his finger and then draw an invisible line in the air.
