9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  Tino glared down at the man. “Debemos encontrarla. Ella es importante.”

  “I saw where Juan took her.” A boy of about ten or so stepped from the back room.

  “Show me. Quickly.” Tino didn’t like the thoughts bouncing in his head. Had the man who accosted her at the airport followed to make sure she didn’t tell anyone about the passports? Or had the policia followed to cover up the passports? He jogged behind the boy down alleys and into the square in front of an old church on the outskirts of the buildings.

  “Gracias.” He motioned the boy to return to the store and pulled his gun from his shoulder holster. A mud-crusted car stood to the side of the church. Tino approached the vehicle slowly. No one inside.

  He stepped toward the side door of the building, but voices in back drew his attention.

  “Those are the only clothes I have while I’m here.”

  Isabella’s disgruntled tone made him smile. She didn’t sound like they had hurt anything other than her pride.

  “Do you mind? I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I guarantee it isn’t in my panties.” Her tone grew more aggressive.

  Tino poked his head around the side of the building. His gut twisted with fear. One man had the carved, bone-handle knife pointed at Isabella and another man tossed her clothing out of her backpack.

  Tino stepped into the open, pointed his gun at the man with the knife. “Señors, I believe the lady would like you to leave her belongings alone.”

  Isabella threw a round kick, sending the knife through the air. Tino ignored the assailant running away and sprinted toward Isabella and the man scrambling after the weapon. His heart lodged in his throat when the man knocked her in the side of the head with his elbow, sending her glasses into the air. She fought back with spunk, agility, and well-landed hits. He grabbed the man’s shirt, yanking him off Isabella as she kicked, landing a solid blow to the assailant’s crotch. The man cursed and doubled over.

  Isabella sprang to her feet, shoved loose strands of straight hair behind her ears, and glared at the man writhing on the ground at his feet. “Don’t ever hold a knife on me again. I don’t like being the victim.” She stomped over to her glasses, shoved them on her face, and snatched up her strewn belongings, cramming them into her bag.

  She may have dismissed her assailant, but Tino wasn’t that generous. His fear for the woman angered him. He channeled the anger on the assailant, shoving and prodding the man to the back of the building, where he propped him up against the stone structure.

  “What were you looking for?” he asked, holding the man’s head up by his hair.

  The assailant’s pain-dulled eyes didn’t reveal a thing.

  Tino shook him. “Why are you bothering the señorita? Who sent you?”

  The man’s face became a replica of a bulldog, saggy and unintelligent. The assailant’s confusion squelched Tino’s worst fears. He hadn’t been sent by anyone. This was a random mugging.

  “I suggest you find a safer way to make money than attacking people.” He shoved away from the man.

  Isabella stalked over to them. She slashed her attacker with a glare. “I can’t believe you drew that innocent child into this. You should be ashamed of yourself.” She wielded the knife under the man’s nose. “If you try something like this again, I’ll find you and cut off your fingers. I do believe that is one of the Mayan punishments for stealing.”

  The man’s eyes widened.

  Tino grasped Isabella’s arm and pulled her away before the laughter bubbling in his throat erupted.

  “We need to turn him over to the police.” She yanked her arm out of his grasp.

  “We do not have the time to sit while they find someone to take your statement.” Tino directed her back to the river.

  “You can’t just let him get away with that.” She stopped, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

  “It would be futile to try and get him arrested. The law here, especially in remote places such as this, is slow and does not always work for the innocent.” He gripped her upper arm, making her continue walking. “We need to get down the river. Trying to get him arrested will only make us have to wait until tomorrow or possibly the day after to leave.”

  She double-timed her steps at his last comment. Tino smiled. Now he knew her weakness—she wanted to get to the dig as quickly as possible. Was it to work or to see the archeologist? The latter burned in his gut like rancid food.

  At the boat, he nodded to Roberto and helped Isabella into the native conveyance. He chose a boat like the locals used to deter banditos along the water route. He knew the more remote places to pull over should the rain prove too much later in the afternoon and where to camp for the night at the confluence of the Usumacinta.

  Isabella took a seat in the middle facing forward, and he sat in the back by the small outboard motor.

  Tino tugged on the rope and started the motor. He eased away from the dock.

  She shot him a narrow-eyed stare. “For someone who only drinks when thirsty, that’s a lot of beer.”

  He sent her a wicked grin. “I get real thirsty out here on the water.”

  “I’ve never ridden with a drunk in a boat. How easy does this capsize?” She swayed her body back and forth, making the water slosh against the sides and splash over the edge.

  “Keep that up and you will make a tasty dinner for a caiman.”

  Her body went stone still and she stared straight ahead.

  This could be a fun trip after all. Nothing like keeping a woman in line with threats she could be eaten by the local predators.

  Chapter 5

  The farther downriver the boat chugged the thicker the cloud of mosquitoes grew. Isabella sprayed repellent on her hat and clothes. Scrunching her eyes tightly shut and drawing her lips inward, she applied the disgusting spray to her face and neck. The astringent smell gagged her and she coughed. Having rid herself of that constant nuisance, she pulled out her camera and took photos of the feathery green Castilian cane hanging from the trees like curtains. Huge mahogany trees reached toward the gray clouds filling the sky.

  “To your right.” Tino’s whisper was as heavy and sultry as the humid atmosphere.

  She turned her head. The bright reds of macaws, vibrant yellows of the toucans, and vivid blues and greens of smaller birds splashed brilliant colors among the somber green canopy of the mahogany trees.

  “It’s beautiful!” She clicked the camera to the beat of the chattering birds. She wanted to stay mad at Tino for the way he’d brushed off her attack. After contemplating the incident and remembering stories of the slow judicial process in foreign countries, she realized her own stupidity didn’t merit stalling their trip.

  “Why do you think they picked me to steal from?” She’d thought she carried herself in a manner that didn’t shout “victim”.

  “Female. Gringo. Spending money. Walking by yourself.” Tino shrugged. “They were not local. I think they were traveling through, saw an opportunity, and took it.”

  “But how did they know to get the grandson of the man I’d discussed local history with? I would never have gone if the boy hadn’t said his grandfather had something to show me.” It still burned she’d been so naïve to follow that boy to the church. But he’d said his grandfather asked him to show her a stone with markings.

  “One of them might have been in the store when you were talking to the old man.” He passed her the canteen. “Where did you learn to kick like that?”

  “Five years of taekwondo. I’m glad I didn’t quit the classes.” If only that training had kicked in at the airport. She put it off to her jet-lagged metabolism then, but today, she determined she wasn’t going to be a victim.

  She read the respect in his eyes before he trained his gaze on the trees looming far above the riverbank.

  “What are you doing after you drop me off at the dig? Is there someone there you have to bring out?” She’d wondered about him traveling the distance only to return empty-handed.
That seemed like a waste of his time.

  He gaze remained riveted to the jungle as he answered. “I was not told of anyone returning. I plan to look around for jaguars and tag a few of the adults and a couple kits.”

  Her scalp tingled. Was he being honest with her? There were moments, like after the attack, when she observed honesty, but when she asked certain questions, he slammed a door shut.

  “Have you always had an interest in animal husbandry?” Large drops splat on her hat and her legs. She glanced up and nearly drowned as rain gushed out of the sky like God pouring a bucket. The water washed across her lips. She stuck out her tongue and cringed. DEET mingled with rain tainted her tongue. Her eyes burned as the chemical ran into them.

  Tino headed the boat toward the riverbank and pulled the gun from his shoulder holster. Isabella peered through stinging eyes to see if danger lurked on the riverbank. The blur of green plants, dotted with colorful blobs, no doubt flowers, didn’t appear the least bit threatening.

  The boat stopped abruptly. She fell forward onto her backpack. Tino leaped over her agile as a cat, traversed the length of the boat, and hopped onto shore. The boat surged a couple times as he pulled it higher aground. Isabella shoved her glasses firmly on her nose, picked up her pack, and scrambled the length of the vessel the best she could with pouring rain and blurred vision.

  Tino held out a hand to help her over the bow. She accepted since her drenched pants clung to her legs making it hard to move.

  He pulled the boat all the way out of the water and tipped it on its side.

  “Why did you do that?” The thunder of the rain pelting through the vegetation drowned her words. When he didn’t respond, she slipped through the mud to his side. She leaned toward him and said loudly, “Why did you pull the boat out and turn it on its side?”

  He started at her voice, then leaned closer. His gaze dipped to her wet clothing then back to her eyes. “I stopped and pulled the boat out of the river because it could rain enough to weigh the boat down. I flipped the boat to keep the supplies dry.” He motioned toward a large-leafed plant.

  At the plant, he dropped to the ground and sat under a large frond. Isabella sat with her back to the plant’s stalk and arranged herself and her back pack under an ample leaf.

  “How long will this last?” Water washed down around their raised seat on the plant’s roots.

  Tino shrugged. “A few minutes, several hours. Hard to say.”

  She pulled off her hat and ran a hand over her wet head. “So we just sit here?”

  “Sí.” Tino tugged his brimmed hat over his eyes and leaned against the plant like he planned to take a nap.

  Isabella humphed, unbuttoned her vest, and dug out her waterproof journal. If the rain forced her to stay here, she might as well reread her symbols and be ready to work as soon as she arrived at the dig. With only sixty days until the department was dismantled, she and Virgil would have to work long hours if the tablet he found proved to be tricky to decipher.

  Tino smiled as the professor tucked her nose into a small journal. Under the brim of his hat, he watched her peer into the book, narrow her eyes, then widen them as if an idea dawned. She drew out a pencil and scribbled in the book.

  She’d shown spirit and handled herself well in both her attacks. Her determination to get to the dig was admirable. He hoped she carried out her mission and returned to her college without any more mishaps. Her beauty and innocence had grown on him. He’d hate to see something bad happen to her. His blood surged as she licked the end of the pencil.

  His thoughts couldn’t go that direction. Revenge burned hotter than his desire for this or any woman. It had to. It was all he’d dreamed and lived since his family was taken from him.

  He glanced at Isabella. Even in contemplation she made a seductive picture. As ridiculous as it was to feel protective of a woman he’d never see again once he delivered her to the dig; the temptation hovered. He could remain in the area and pop in now and then to see how she was doing, or even watch her from a distance.

  No. I cannot.

  Tino slammed his eyes closed and banged his head against the plant, raining water down on himself and Isabella.

  “Hey!” She shook her journal and glared at him.

  “Sorry.”

  “How is it you speak English so well?” She opened her vest and the journal disappeared.

  “I watch lots of American movies.” Tino slumped more against the plant and pulled the hat down lower on his face. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about himself.

  “Have you seen Indiana Jones?” The awe in her voice drew his gaze to her face.

  Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks tinted a deeper pink, and her lips tipped in a wistful smile.

  “Si.” Where was this leading? She wasn’t really an artifact hunter was she?

  “Isn’t he wonderful how he gets out of all those dangerous situations and remains so loyal to the artifacts he finds? And that whip…” She pulled her glasses off and rubbed them with her soaked shirttail. Placing them back on her nose, she frowned and tugged them off. “I tried to work a whip once.”

  The thought of her with a whip and black leather unzipped to her belly button, fitting snug over her hips, and displaying her long legs flashed in his mind and brought his body to attention.

  “It was a disaster. I really should have tried it outside, but I was embarrassed and ended up breaking a table lamp, hooking the whip on a table leg, scuffing the floor, and scaring the daylights out of Alabaster, my cockatoo.”

  “They are not easy to handle, I hear.” He held back the chuckle tickling his throat.

  The roar of the rain lessened. Less than an hour. A light rain today. He stood.

  “Where are you going? It’s still raining.” She started to stand as well.

  “Stay. The rain is letting up. I am getting food. As soon as the rain stops we will head on downriver. There is still a good distance to travel to the spot I plan to spend the night.”

  She nodded.

  Tino dug through the supplies in the netting and found the already prepared lunches he’d purchased at the café in Sayaxche. He snatched a Gallo for himself and juice for Isabella.

  Her eyes narrowed when her gaze landed on his beer. He smiled and handed her the juice and her portion of the food. For a skinny woman she ate like a soccer player. She’d downed all her food before he ate half of his. Her lingering stare at his fruit had him handing it over to her.

  “You eat a lot for being skinny.”

  “I have a high metabolism. No matter how much or what I eat I can’t gain weight. It’s as much a curse as people who can’t lose weight. People think I have an eating disorder because I’m thin and they see me eat a lot. Believe me—it’s not something I embrace. As a teenager, when my hair was cut short, women would tell me I was in the wrong restroom.” She glanced down at her chest.

  Her dull eyes and grimace tugged at his sympathy. Tino reached out, touching her cheek.

  “I did not think you were a boy, even before I saw the long braid down your back.”

  A weak smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “Thanks. But I know my body isn’t appealing.” She sighed, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

  Her skin was soft and slicked with rain. Drops clung to her wide, full mouth. He couldn’t draw his gaze from her lips. Knew he shouldn’t let the lure of her unhappiness and pheromones get to him, but he lapsed.

  And leaned in.

  Brushed his lips across hers.

  Her eyes opened wide, and she stared into his. Curiosity replaced the surprise.

  He pulled back, but kept his hand cradling her jaw. He smiled. It had been a long time since he’d locked lips with someone so innocent. Her emotions swam in her eyes. Uncertainty, curiosity, longing. Her lips remained partially open accommodating her rapid breathing.

  Tino drew her face to his. “Do you wish another kiss?” He stared into her eyes, felt the racing of her pulse where his hand rested u
nder her jawline and the puffs of her warm breath on his lips.

  “Yes…” Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned closer.

  He chuckled, marveling at how easily she could be seduced. The thought also soured his disposition. Would she be this easy for someone else? Say Dr. Martin? Or a drug lord?

  Groaning, he released her and sprang to his feet. She nearly fell face first in the mud, but he didn’t move to help her up. If he touched her again so soon, he would kiss her, again. Neither one of them could afford an emotional entanglement. Especially him.

  She rose to her knees, sputtering. “Why you hypocrite!” Her cheeks flamed a deep red like the scarlet macaw. “I can’t believe you…you…” Her features twisted. Anger filled her tear glistened eyes.

  Pendejo. Jackass, that’s what he was. The rain no longer poured. The gentle trickle refreshed after the innocent yet scorching kiss. He righted the boat and slid it into the river.

  “Come on. We can travel in this.” He offered his hand to help her in.

  She declined, climbing into the boat by herself and squeezing her body against the side when he moved past her to the motor.

  At least he didn’t have to worry about answering any more of her questions. She rode the rest of the afternoon in silence, pointing her camera at colorful birds and aquatic life along the river. She staunchly kept her eyes to the front of the boat in an almost humorous way. But he still felt like a heel. He could tell by the slight droop of her shoulders his rejection had shattered her already fragile ego. Yet, he knew if he had kissed her again, he wouldn’t have been able to leave her at the dig and walk away.

  Her vulnerability seduced his protective nature.

  He hadn’t been able to protect his family, but he could avenge their deaths. That was his focus. Not protecting a tempting professor. His goal since becoming a DEA agent was to seek revenge on the man who murdered his family. Even if it took the rest of his life.

  Chapter 6

  Isabella climbed out of the boat, keeping as much distance between her and Tino as possible. He’d humiliated her, and she couldn’t get away from him. They were stuck together tonight and all of tomorrow until he delivered her to the dig. His taunting her with a kiss and then drawing away as if she were some vile creature hurt as deeply as the things Darrell Rutley had said to her face in grad school.