Pedro rolled his brown eyes. “Save your hot love for Angélica, Junior Mint.”
“Junior Mint? Not you, too. You’ve been talking to Juan.” Quint took a look at the package, his grin fading when he saw his aunt Zoe’s name on the return address. “When did you get this?”
“It was at Angélica’s beach house this morning when I stopped by to pick up a few things for her and to see if Rover’s new pen is fenced and ready for him.”
Quint tore the package open while Pedro unloaded his own bag and a plastic gray tote. Inside the envelope, he found two things—a dark metal ring and a note from his aunt.
Something tells me you need this. It’s pure iron made from a melted horseshoe. Wear it on your right middle finger at all times.
Missing you so much!
Love always,
Aunt Zoe
“What is that?” Pedro asked, staring down at the ring. “Are you planning to ask a certain bossy lady to marry you?”
“Not today.” Between his traveling and Angélica’s struggles with trusting him, they had too many bumps to smooth out before he even thought about bringing up wedding rings.
“It’s from my aunt Zoe.” He held up the ring, turning it in hisfingers. “She’s always had a way of knowing things before they happen to me and my sister, Violet.”
“She is … how do you say … a seer?”
“Maybe. My great-grandmother supposedly was. She carried a bag of rune stones with her all the time, cackling out wacky shit, especially when Violet was around.”
“What’s that on the inside?” Pedro asked. “Your initials?”
Quint tipped the ring to pick up the sunshine. “No, it looks like a …” he stopped, his breath catching. That was odd. How did his aunt know about …
“A butterfly.” Pedro smashed a termite that landed on the side of his helicopter. “Mi abuelafrom Mexico City believes butterflies represent the souls of dead warriors who died in battle.”
What was it Angélica had said about butterflies that day KuTu had come across those skulls? Something about the ancient Maya people believing butterflies were ancestors trying to bring back wisdom and a return of natural harmony?
“What are you going to do with that?” Pedro asked.
Quint slipped the ring onto his right middle finger. “Wear it, like the note says.” He shrugged and forced a laugh, hoping it sounded real to Pedro’s ears. “Who knows, it might be some kind of protection charm that will keep me alive when Juan drags me into one of those cramped temples with a ceiling one crack away from caving in on my head,” he joked, but was sort of serious.
Ancestors. Dead warriors. Huh.
What were the chances of this being one big weird coincidence?
Chapter Seven
“Defensive works, such as moats, wooden barricades, fortifying earthworks, and low walls are often found in settlements occupied during the Maya Pre-Classic period (600 BCE to 150 CE).
In a dense tropical forest environment, such as the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve, these types of features, along with the raised causeways that stretch between surrounding settlements, are very difficult to see while on the ground. Using a multidisciplinary approach, we can …”
Angélica glanced Quint’s way when he paused in the midst of reading through his field notes.
While the calamitous din of the jungle’s nightlife raged outside their tent, she’d been enjoying the low rumble of his voice in the background of her thoughts as she poured over several LIDAR images. Thankfully, Dr. Fernel had been smart enough to bring laminated copies of everything, along with digital files on his tablet and laptop, because the Mexican rainforest could wreak havoc on electronics without even trying.
She turned away from the printouts spread around the camp tray she was using as a makeshift desk, studying Quint almost as intently as she had been the LIDAR maps. One of many camp lanterns Pedro had brought along hung overhead from their tent’s center pole, shedding enough light for reading notes and body language.
Quint lay back in his cot, another supply item Pedro had brought along for each of them. He absently scratched the side of his neck as he frowned at his notes. Having recently returned from the portablecamp shower Teodoro had set up behind the mess tent, the heartbreaker wore only a well-worn pair of cargo shorts that sat low on his hips, leaving plenty of bare skin for her to ogle—which she did for a moment … or three.
Hell, if Angélica didn’t know better, she’d think he was feeling downright comfy camping out in the jungle with her, even though there was no running water and no way to escape the heat and humidity. However, his skin glistened from a light sweat, same as hers, and she knew from sleeping next to him in their bed back home that he preferred to be under a ceiling fan on warm nights.
Her gaze traveled down his long, tanned legs to where his bare feet hung over the end of the cot. He was several inches too tall for it and had preferred a hammock at their last dig, but he wasn’t complaining. Nor had he complained about anything else, at least not within earshot.
