“No problem. On the sacbé this hike would take maybe five days. We have three extra.” He surged to his feet and held out a hand. “And you can still control our course. We’ll need the GPS receiver. What’s our position?”
Kate dug the device from her pack. Her face fell. “The screen is smashed. It’s dead.”
***
The squawking of parrots woke Kate. She stretched and consulted her watch. A little past dawn. Dappled sunlight through the tent’s mosquito-netting confirmed her estimate. Rainwater from the night’s storm dripped from leaves and bracts. The rising sun coaxed steam from the dampened limestone ground. Her health club sauna had nothing on the Yucatán jungle.
Rolling over, she saw no Max, only his empty inflated mattress. She peered out at the dense wall of vegetation. Probably taking care of personal necessities.
Thank heaven for him. She’d needed his clear head and experience after the close brush with the soldiers. Following a hurried wash and meal by the cenote, they’d stumbled through the dark underbrush until they found a space large enough to pitch their tent. They made it inside seconds before the skies opened.
As she settled on her mattress, the incessant jungle noises filtering through the rain battered her senses. And how could she sleep picturing her brother drugged and injured in the hands of sick criminals? Who had yet to call! Something must be wrong, but there was nothing she could do. She had enough to deal with here, her attraction to Max included.
She finally drifted off, the day’s exertion and stress taking their toll. Her last memory had been of owls hooting back and forth.
No makeup and sleeping in her shorts and cami made dressing in pants and a shirt a lot easier than preparing for a workday at the museum. Staying off the trail complicated everything. Somehow they had to find their way. Dammit, the broken GPS was her fault. She should’ve stowed it in her tote after checking it. Neglecting such an important detail wasn’t like her.
Neither was this whole scene. The shooting, the helicopter landing, the jungle noises, the jaguar, and the near-brush with the soldiers had ramped up the stress. Meals consisted of the portable and nonperishable. Her exposed skin bore testament to the jungle’s prickliness. Not to mention her hair. She brushed back the corkscrewy mess and confined it with a scrunchie.
As she crawled from the tent, a green parrot swooped above her head, squawking his displeasure at her intrusion. Puddles scattered the ground, but the porous limestone surface would dry soon as the night’s downpour drained into the underground rivers and caverns.
Toothbrush, canteen, and other necessities in hand, she headed for privacy behind a stand of bamboo.
When she returned, Max was emerging from the jungle. His cap, carried in both hands, bulged with something. The dark shadow of beard made him look sexier than ever. A thrill of longing swept through her.
“Fresh fruit.” He tilted the cap to display four apple-size, golden-skinned globes. “Zapotes.”
A murky memory rose in her mind. “I know the zapote! It’s white inside, with a few seeds. Delicious, just what we need with our energy bars.”
“A native feast.” Max deposited the fruit-laden cap on his pack and dug out a knife.
Moments later, her hunger slaked, Kate broached the subject choking her like the vine strangling the nearby gum tree. “About the GPS, that’s my fault. I—”
“Easy, Kate. Everything happened too fast in the chopper. No problem. We’ll go low tech.” Max flicked away a zapote seed and fished in one of the many pockets in his cargo pants. He held up a flat plastic case. “My trusty compass.”
Kate gaped. Then it hit her. She jackknifed to her feet. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me last night you had a compass?”
A devilish grin lighted his face. He winked. “Reckon I was tired.” Opening the case, he stood and held the device level. He oriented it to point north.
She wanted to throw the rest of her cereal bar at him. “You let me stew all night about getting lost.”
“You did more snoring than stewing, darlin’.”
“I do not sn—”
A rumble like a giant dump truck bore down on them.
The ground shook, making pebbles dance and trees sway. Birds jetted from the trees into the safety of the sky. A ring-tailed coatimundi scurried through the campsite without sparing the humans a glance.
Kate lost her footing but Max caught her. He wrapped her in his strong arms and she clung, burying her face in his shirt. Breathing his familiar scent propped her up. They held onto each other until the tremor’s booming stopped after what seemed a century but was mere moments.
Slowly birds settled and jungle chatter increased to its normal chorus.
He lifted her chin. “I reckon Kizin’s worried.”
Exhaling in relief, she nodded. “Let’s hope that’s his only warning shot today.”
She didn’t want to move. For an instant she thought he would kiss her, but instead he stepped away. She wouldn’t have allowed it anyway. Tell yourself that, Katherine.
She lowered her gaze and gasped at the aftermath of the tremor. The tent lay flat, the stakes askew, and leaves and twigs littered the ground. “We’d better get packed. Then you can consult your magic compass and point us toward K’eq Xlapak.”
Max stuffed the remaining fruit in his pack and slapped on his cap. “Think again. You’re going to plot our route.”
She halted two steps from their collapsed tent. “Me? It’s been awhile since I used a compass, but I’ll see what I remember.”
He grinned. The jerk was clearly enjoying himself. “After a lesson from the ol’ scout, you’ll be Sacajawea.”
Sacajawea knew where she was going and had no schedule. If Kate lost her way returning Kizin, the Maya villagers might blame her—and Max—for the coming earthquake. Hell, in the aftermath, they’d probably both perish—along with Doug. Her stomach roiled. She’d push on. What else could she do?
She narrowed her eyes. “And just what will you be doing while I’m playing guide?”
He held up the machete.
Chapter Eighteen
Sweat dripped from Max’s ears, nose, and chin as he hacked at the vine blocking their way. Bulling through the jungle required protection from thorns and insects. And snakes. He wore camouflage cargo pants tucked into snake-proof boots and a lightweight shirt with insect repellant in the weave. Steamed by the sun, now high in the sky, humidity like a damn Houston summer wrapped itself around him, seeking out every millimeter of skin. Clouds were gathering. But still some blue. Maybe the rain would hold off until night.
Behind him, Kate trooped along in a similar outfit. She carried the compass in front of her like it was the Holy Grail. Frown lines between her eyes revealed how hard she concentrated. She was a quick study. And she’d sucked it up once she realized their situation. They’d plotted the course toward K’eq Xlapak, at 240 degrees southwest. How many days it would take to get there was up for grabs. Not a straight route, not with trees and rocks and who the hell knew what else in their path. So she patiently plotted their route to one visible target after another.
He grinned. Dios, the woman made him smile more than he had in a year. And she made him hornier than a teenager. Lying beside her in the tent last night was a test of endurance. Trying to concentrate on even breathing and fake snores didn’t erase his ache.
He wanted more than her body. He wanted her fire and her stubbornness. And her trust. Those feelings rattled and infuriated him. Shocking as a microburst.
Hacking the last of the vine, he stepped into an open space. Easier going but it meant the sun broiled his head and shoulders. Kate’s boots rattled the rocky soil behind him. Good. She was keeping up the pace. He looked back to see her swipe at her forehead with a bandana. Game but wilting.
“Let’s stop a minute and hydrate.” He unhooked his canteen from his pack. Overhead a spider monkey chattered in seeming agreement.
After a few swallows, she said, “I’m trying not to
slow us down too much. Jogging in Rock Creek Park doesn’t do it as preparation for bushwhacking through backcountry.”
Reality must be setting in. A few days ago she wouldn’t have admitted this gap in fitness. “I can’t make a trail any faster than I am. You’re doing okay for a woman who avoids adventure. I reckon you’re even enjoying yourself.”
She gave a huffy sniff. “Enduring doesn’t mean enjoying.”
The glow of excitement in her eyes when she’d plotted her first course said otherwise. “What about those expeditions with the professor? No enjoyment even as a kid?”
She lowered her gaze and refastened her canteen. “You ready to go?”
“Kate?”
Aggravation chased across her features. Then she heaved a sigh. “Yes, enjoyment. And discovery and excitement.” She gestured at the surrounding vegetation, full of twittering songbirds. “This is bringing it back.”
“Like the howler monkeys?”
“And the zapote. I remember things—places, food, people, experiences—I’d forgotten. Or made myself forget.”
“To please your mother.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Time to move on.” He picked up the machete. “You can tell me about one of those expeditions as we walk. Take my mind off the blisters I’m raising.”
“Deal. I’d like to remember more.”
He waited as she oriented the compass.
“That way.” She pointed. “To the giant agave plant by the boulders.”
The target lay about thirty feet ahead. But trailing branches and low vegetation blocked the way. He reached for a tangle of slender vines to move them before swinging the machete.
“Stop, Max! Don’t move.”
He stilled his hand and the machete in mid-air. “What the hell?”
“Vine snake. Back away.”
Half a foot from his outstretched hand, a stiff, straight, gray stem extended from a strangler fig branch to another vine-draped bough. Thinner than a little finger and about six feet long, it could’ve been a spear stabbing into the foliage. Except for the golden eyes and flicking tongue.
Kate fought to remain calm but trembled when she saw his barely suppressed shudder.
He lowered first one arm, then the other. He retreated one slow step at a time until he reached her side. Breathing hard, he cupped her head in one hand and kissed her forehead. “Vine snake. Damn. Good call.”
She drew in a sharp breath. Unmindful of the backpacks weighing them down, she slid her arms around his waist. His heart beat against her ear. A steady beat, strong and powerful. Unwanted emotions crowded her chest. “Thank God you’re all right. You could’ve died.”
He slid a finger beneath her chin and tipped it up. “I’m tougher than that. But once is more than enough. Last time my arm swelled up like a sumo-wrestling costume. I should’ve spotted this guy.”
She gaped at him. “You were bitten before?”
“A few years ago. Like now, I wasn’t alert enough. Vine snakes aren’t real aggressive. If you grab one, it’ll bite.”
Memories slithered from the murky past. “We were on expedition somewhere in Mexico. I was about eight. I reached for a flower. Dad yanked me back and showed me the vine snake stretched out beside the stem. I remember the pointy head—and Dad’s warning. The venom has no antidote.”
“True enough. But a vine snake, whipsnake, whatever you call it, is semi-venomous. You probably weighed about sixty pounds, so in that case, your dad could’ve been right. He was protecting his little girl.”
Yes, she’d felt protected. Safe. Until Mom went into hysterics when she heard the story. “I never thought of that. Dad taught Doug and me about the places we camped—the history and people, the animals and plants.”
“Sounds like he enjoyed having you with him. He made time for you.”
The bitter sharpness in his voice reminded her who was talking. Her face heated, but maybe he’d attribute her red cheeks to the jungle heat. He would so not appreciate lame sympathy at his lack of a father.
But of course he was right. She’d spent too many years treading carefully and letting her mother’s fears and put-downs block the good memories. Pain settled in her chest and in her eyes. “When you asked me to tell you my memories, you didn’t expect such a graphic demonstration.”
He flashed her one of his devilish grins. “I don’t mind graphic as long as it includes holding you like this.”
With the sudden realization that she was still standing in his embrace, she felt her nerve endings dance with awareness. She could feel his hot gaze, his hands on her waist through the thin cotton of her shirt, his body heat where her palms rested against his rock-hard biceps.
She stepped out of his arms. “Don’t we need to keep moving?”
He pointed to the foliage. “The snake seems to have moved on.” Picking up the machete, he whacked at the vines in their way.
***
As the afternoon wore on, they faced only a thick green barrier of tangled vines, spindly columnar cacti, and prickly acacia trees. Max reckoned if they met no obstacles, they could keep going until nightfall. He glanced upward at the scudding clouds. Unless the rain hit first.
Awhile later, he beat past a copa tree and a bush with thick, leathery leaves only to run into a dead end. Spindly trees and low-growing vegetation grew out of sheer stone. Growth was too thick to see right or left to determine how large the barrier was. He bent backward and gazed upward. The green-camouflaged mound arched into the sky three stories high.
His pulse kicked up a notch. This ought to put the sparkle back in Kate’s eyes.
“What is it, Max?”
“If I didn’t know this plateau has no hills, I’d say we’ve come to a hill. Look.” He hacked away thorny branches and stood aside to give her a view.
Blood spotted her sleeves where thorns had punctured. Fatigue dulled her eyes but her chin had a determined lift. She removed her canvas gloves and swiped sweat from her forehead.
She stepped around him and peered at the obstruction with the same thoroughness he did. “I don’t think it’s a hill any more than you do.” She yanked on her gloves. “Let me have the machete.”
Grinning, he handed it to her.
She hacked away until she’d cleared enough to reveal what lay beneath the vines and roots. Blocks of stone held in place with crumbling mortar formed a curved wall.
“Max, look! Maybe a temple of some sort, but not a pyramid. More of a dome shape.” When she returned the machete, the excitement of discovery gleamed in her eyes. “We have to keep going but I wish we could stay and explore. Maybe there are more buildings.”
A distant rumble drew his gaze again to the sky. Wind drove angry dark clouds far above the trees, devouring the blue.
“Storm’s coming. You get your wish. We should get under cover before the rain hits. You think this pile of rocks has an inside chamber?”
Her expression brightened and her shoulders lifted. “Definitely, maybe more than one. Odds are that any doorway is overgrown. Finding it could be a tough order.”
He slid the map from his pack. They were traveling to the south of the limestone road. With all the zigzagging, determining just how far they were from the trail was a guess. “I estimate we’ve gone about eight miles today, to about here. The map shows nothing except green. This temple, or whatever it is, isn’t on the map.”
She frowned. “So we have six more days to go thirty-two miles.”
If his calculations were correct. “Eight miles a day. We can make it. No sweat.” He hoped. “Hell, Texas-size sweat. But doable. We need a better source of water than black clouds. We never planned on an overland trek away from the trail or I’d have insisted on hydration packs so we wouldn’t have to refill like we do with canteens. We have plenty of hyperiodide tablets for water purification, but funneling rainwater into canteens is problematic.”
She agreed. “We need to find a cenote. This place is a good bet. The May
a didn’t build far from a water source.”
“Shelter first. We may have more water than we can handle damned soon.”
The boom of thunder backed up his prediction. Trees and undergrowth on the ground blocked most of the wind so he expected the rain to fall straight down.
“From the contours of this structure, I have a feeling it wasn’t a temple,” she said. “Possibly a way station or storage building. The opening should face the road.”
“Maybe this thing’s not important enough to restore, but if it was near the beaten path, it’d be on the map. We must be a good distance from the road. Why such a massive building so deep in the jungle?”
“One of the mysteries of the Maya,” she said, with a flippant air. “Or it’s near the only cenote in these parts. Let’s try going around the north side.” She oriented the compass.
He liked the animation in her eyes, the way her color bloomed with the pleasure of this side adventure. His body tightened. Everything male in him responded to her. If only he hadn’t rushed into asking about her brother’s deals. Safer if he just thought of her as the client.
Shit.
“Let’s find that door before the skies open.”
“Yo.”
Kate watched Max push past a sapling. Another crack of thunder made her pulse jump. The smell of ozone overlaid scents of flowers and mossy stone. The bees buzzing around the flowering vines vanished.
He whacked at vines and roots, and she pulled the cuttings aside to make a path around the massive structure. A green parrot flew in agitated circles and squawked at the destruction.
Just above their heads, a different layer of flat stones formed a shelf leading to another rise of curved wall. Her pulse quickened. She’d seen a similar Maya structure in Mexico.
A few minutes later, raindrops the size of ping-pong balls began to splatter on their heads and darken the stones. Soon the drops grew to a downpour and lightning flashed all around them in a bigger light show than Independence Day on the Washington Mall.
On Deadly Ground (Devlin Security Force Book 1) Page 17
