On Deadly Ground (Devlin Security Force Book 1)

by Susan Vaughan

Water streamed down the stones and sluiced around their feet. The bill of her cap kept the rain out of her eyes but water dripped from her hair. She was soaked to the skin. In spite of the heat, she shivered.

  Max came to a halt. Water cascaded off his backpack and from his cap. “This may be the way in. I got a pillar or column.”

  She came around for a closer look. Two stone pillars and a lintel formed a square opening like a roofed portico. Fallen stones and wood clogged the space.

  “Without this junk in the way,” Max shouted above the rush of rain, “this opening would be big. The Maya didn’t have the wheel but I’d judge the space is wide enough for a Corvette.”

  She smiled. She’d come to expect his knowledge of the Maya. “They didn’t know about arches either, so their flat ceilings sometimes collapsed. We’ll have to be cautious.”

  “No shit. Something could be living in there.” He shed his pack. “Clearing one side should give us enough of an entry under cover.” He tipped up his head for a drink of the driving rain, then started moving away stones.

  Careful to protect the camera bag with its precious cargo, she deposited her pack beneath a tree and set to work beside him. As she rolled away a stone, a scorpion the size of her palm scooted out. She recoiled and shrieked like a howler.

  Shaking its venomous stinger in indignation, the scorpion skittered away.

  Kate slipped on the wet stones and tumbled sideways onto the debris. Her hard landing triggered a landslide of rocks and sticks, taking her with it until she crashed against a tree. Pain rocketed through her bones and the breath exploded from her lungs.

  Max was at her side, his arm around her shoulders “Take it easy. Where do you hurt?”

  She dragged in air. “Everywhere. But I don’t think anything’s broken.”

  He ran his hands over her legs and arms. Her left sleeve was torn and red, but the rain was quickly washing away the blood. Her already bruised left shoulder throbbed. “Did the son of a bitch sting you?”

  She shook her head and started to rise. “We both ran.”

  He pressed a hand on her knee. “Sit here a minute. I’ve almost cleared enough space for us to get under shelter. I’ll clear the inside in case the chamber has more critters.” His headlamp and the Glock came out, and his gaze scanned the littered ground.

  She shivered with the aftermath of fear, and her heart thumped like a bongo drum. This stupid fall had earned her bruises and cuts on top of bumps and scratches, but she was okay, just sore. A little bloody. Wetter than she’d ever been in her life. And pissed. She wanted a bubble bath, a glass of sauvignon blanc—French, 2004—and a massage. In any damn order.

  Pity party finished, she watched Max work. With his wet shirt nearly transparent, the angles and bulges of his muscles stood out in relief. The ropy sinews of his biceps and forearms contracted as he heaved aside stones and branches.

  Heat spiraled through her and tenderness eased her discomfort. She squeezed rain from her hair. This wasn’t even his quest. How could she just sit here and let him do everything? She’d damn well hold up her end.

  “I feel better now. I can help.” Careful where she put her hands, she pushed to her feet. Every bone and muscle protested with stabs of agony. But no dizziness. No concussion. Good. She clambered up behind him, every step painful. Musty and rank odors emanated from the low, dark chamber.

  When she put a hand on his back, he held up an arm. “Keep back. Let me check inside first. I’ll take no chances with your safety.”

  She backed up a step, watching as he aimed the lamp beam into the shadowed recess. “Chamber’s only as wide as the opening but deeper, like an entry hall. Another doorway in the back but blocked by a cave-in. No critters.”

  He stowed the Glock and picked up a stout stick from the pile of rocks. “I need to clear away leaves and whatever else is on the floor first. Snakes and scorpions don’t like to cross bare ground. Unless you have a hankering to snuggle up to another scorpion.”

  She grinned at his choice of words. So Texas. “Not anytime soon. I can wait.”

  “The stuff on the floor—dry leaves, twigs, even some animal bones—is dry enough to make good tinder. A fire will help us dry out and repel mosquitoes.” He scraped at the debris. “All clear. Let’s bring in our gear.”

  They lugged their packs inside along with a few small logs. She waited in the stone shelter while Max curled up two big leaves as funnels into their canteens before he joined her. In short order, they settled in with the beginnings of a fire. Smoke ribboned up and out the chamber opening. The thick layers of stone deadened the rain’s pounding so they could talk in normal voices.

  “You should get into dry clothes.” He sat cross-legged before the small blaze. “Then we’ll doctor those cuts and scrapes. In this climate open wounds can fester. You don’t want parasites—”

  “Enough, dammit. Thorns, the monsoon, the scorpion. Earthquakes. No more. I don’t want to hear a word about parasites.” She shuddered, feeling her mouth contort.

  “Had enough adventure?” His voice was a gentle rumble.

  She straightened her shoulders. “This trip isn’t about adventure, remember? And even if it were, it’s too damned late now. I’ll manage, thank you very much.”

  She gathered dry clothing and her towel from her pack. When she rose to her feet, the low ceiling forced her to hunch over. The ancient Maya were shorter than their modern counterparts.

  “Wait a sec, Kate. I admit I didn’t think you could hack it. I was wrong. You wouldn’t give up and go back now even if it was possible. You’re no quitter. Scorpions, jaguars, and don’t forget the vine snake—nothing stops you.”

  She stared at him, skin tingling as if his words actually caressed her. She licked her lips. Burning wood crackled and sizzled. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Change your clothes. I’ll turn my back and keep watch over the fire to give you privacy.”

  She cocked her head and sent him a teasing smile. “How can I be sure you won’t peek?”

  He peeled off his soaked shirt and gripped the stick with both hands. “Darlin’, every molecule in my body wants to see you naked again but this isn’t the time. I promise not to look.”

  With that, he turned and jabbed the stick into the fire.

  Chapter Nineteen

  No quitter. Kate savored the words, let them wrap around her like a blanket. From Max, high praise. He hadn’t she was adept or capable, but at least he respected her determination.

  Her headlamp on, she stepped farther back in the chamber. Although he’d cleaned out the space, the scents of decay and mold underlay that of wood smoke. Nose wrinkled, she peeled off her dripping clothes, every stitch soaked. When she finished drying off with her super-absorbent camp towel, she felt warmer even in the stone-cooled space.

  Max’s rigid back showed he was a man of his word. Puckered scarring dented his left shoulder. Maybe a bullet wound. And a longer, jagged scar gleamed white on his right side.

  At the beginning, she’d seen him as only muscle, a brawny protector, and then as a sharp, self-made man. A man who thought her brother a crook, dammit. Actually it was Devlin Security—and Thomas Devlin himself—who mistrusted Doug. Or was she rationalizing because Max Rivera was sexy as hell and as hot for her as that fire? Puckered nipples and twinges low in her body were her answer.

  They could go nowhere in this storm. They were comfortable, dry, and safe. Well, relatively safe. So why not?

  Warmed inside and out, she smiled as she slipped into clean clothing. Reaching for her boots she said, “Okay, big guy, I’m decent. You can relax.”

  He swiveled around and raised one dark eyebrow. “Darlin’, with you around, I can never relax.” His rich voice reverberated against the stone walls and deep inside her.

  Was his comment provocative or protective? If provocative, she was ready. If protective, she would change his mind. Soon.

  Finished t
ying her boots, she angled her head to play the light over the walls. “The stonework back here is remarkably intact, even the mortar.”

  “What do you think is beyond that blocked door?”

  His fascination for the ruin matched hers and warmed her further. “Give me a minute.”

  Her lamplight caught shadowy lines inscribed on the door frame. “The upright pillars are more than framework. They’re stelae.”

  “Columns with glyphs.”

  She nodded, stepping closer and rubbing the stone with her towel. Dampened, the lines showed their design in clear relief. “I think I know what this building is.”

  “You’re killing me with suspense, woman.”

  She hadn’t heard him move, but his voice, low and smoky, tingled in her ear. His body heat and salty, damp scent made her pulse skip.

  She swallowed. “I can’t read the hieroglyphics but the pictures make the meaning clear enough.” She traced the lines with her index finger. “What do you see?”

  He trained their halogen lantern on the inscribed drawings. “A beehive?” His tone bordered on incredulous.

  “And bees.” Kate pointed to the smaller shapes above and below the hive. She wheeled to find him bent over nearly in half. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hey, old man.”

  His brows slammed together. “Is there more or can I go sit down before I’m bent permanently?”

  She shooed him toward the fire. Peeling off her headlamp, she sank beside him on the hard-packed ground.

  “Hold out your arms and I’ll have a look at your scrapes.” He pulled the first-aid kit from his pack.

  “Most of the scratches are from thorns, but my left arm took a hit when I fell.” What blood hadn’t washed away had dried but her elbow was stiffening up.

  “You didn’t get this bruise when you fell just now.” He was frowning at the purple blotching her shoulder.

  She considered a nonchalant shrug but thought better of it. “I took a tumble in the helicopter. No big deal.”

  “We’ll lighten your pack before we head out again. That way it won’t become a big deal.” He held up the iodine. “Parasite prevention next.” She winced when he dabbed the antiseptic on the cuts. “Not too bad. Antibiotic ointment later.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Rivera,” she said sweetly.

  Grinning, he tossed another stick into their blaze. “Okay, Indiana Fontaine, what is this place if it’s not a temple?” He reclined facing her, propped on one elbow.

  The heat in his gaze steamed her more than the fire. Huddling together in this ancient stone entry struck her as more intimate than sleeping side by side in a tent.

  She edged closer to him and took out her hairbrush. “It is a temple, of a sort. There’s a similar building in Mexico, at Cobá. Honey must’ve been a major trading commodity here as it was there. This structure’s shape is a beehive, a temple to the god of commerce. They probably used it as a marketplace. People would’ve set up huts around the building.”

  “A trading center.” Max glanced at the back wall. “If we could get in, we might find statues or glyphs of the god.”

  “But—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “I know. The deadline. Your archeologist pal at K’eq Xlapak might be interested in this temple.”

  His touch burned and she was tempted to lick the callused skin. But he pulled away.

  Their gazes held and sizzled as if connected by invisible, live wires. Or was that the fire’s heat? The flames reflected on his burnished skin, limning the lean bands of sinew in gold and shadows. The look in his heavy-lidded eyes promised passion, slow, sensual caresses, and dizzying satisfaction.

  Hairbrush forgotten, she leaned toward him, blood throbbing in every pulse point in her body. Her tight nipples brushed against the cami’s soft cotton.

  His fingers slid into the hair at her temples, then trailed down her cheek, to the low neck of her cami, where he stroked just beneath the rolled hem. He could probably feel her fluttering heart.

  She could barely breathe, hypnotized by the rasp of his finger against her skin. “Max—”

  He feathered a kiss across her lips. “Hold that thought. Gotta put wood on our fire. This stuff burns faster than we will—if we’re headed where I think we are.”

  “We don’t need the fire.”

  “Huh?”

  “The rain has stopped.”

  He went utterly still before he looked out beyond the smoldering fire.

  The storm had moved on. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The jungle wept, its tears dripping and trickling from every leaf and tree. Sunlight reflected diamonds on the droplets of water. Rising steam made the setting surreal, dreamlike. Exactly how Kate felt—in a dream.

  Don’t wake me. Not now.

  Max cleared his throat. “I hate to say it but water and safety have to come before pleasure. It’ll be dark before long.”

  She slumped backward, deflated like a pricked balloon. She’d taken a chance at seducing him. She was dirty and smelly and her hair had gone native. Was she making a fool of herself?

  “Hey.” He cupped her chin. “We’ll have all night. If you have in mind what I have in mind, we’ll need all night.”

  The velvet promise of his words tingled her flesh. Gathering her scattered wits, she said, “I’ll organize our camp in here.”

  He laughed. “I expected nothing less. The rainwater probably didn’t fill our bottles. You said earlier there must be a cenote nearby.” After shrugging into a dry shirt, he went outside and stretched. “Ah, feels good to stand up.”

  This time she wasn’t terrified to stay alone. Well, a little. “Be careful.”

  “Always.” With a wink, he plunged into the trees.

  ***

  When Max returned, he found Kate had draped their wet clothing over branches and rocks to dry. Including her underwear—scraps of nothing, for God’s sake. But he grinned at the tent set up inside the temple entrance. Exactly what he’d have done.

  Perched on the rock pile, she was still brushing at her tangled hair. With her Cuervo-Gold hair wild around her face and her arms a patchwork of scratches, she was a far cry from the ice princess he first met. They weren’t touching. He wasn’t within ten feet of her but his body tightened and he burned. Hell, it was just sex. Simple sex.

  Except that where Kate was concerned, nothing was simple.

  She looked up, first with fear, then with bright expectation. Her welcome wrapped around his chest. Not simple. De ningún modo. No way. Don’t go there.

  “How’d you like a bath?” he called.

  Her cheeks bloomed with her wide smile. “You found a cenote?”

  “Not just a cenote. The Roman bath of cenotes. Wait ’til you see.”

  “I won’t even ask for it to be warm as long as I can shampoo this Medusa do.”

  As she collected a towel, soap, and her canteen into a mesh bag, he gathered necessities and dry clothes. Leaving their camp unattended was a necessary risk. A no-brainer compared to sending Kate off to bathe alone. Much bigger and more accessible than the small well they’d used the night before, this was a regular watering hole for predators and prey alike, judging from the prints and droppings. He didn’t intend for either of them to become prey.

  The weights of the Glock against his hip and the Beretta in an ankle holster reassured him. For extra insurance, he carried the machete. When Kate gathered what she needed, they set off toward the cenote, about twenty yards farther southwest.

  After a few minutes pushing through the thick growth, he stopped beside a sprawling acacia tree. He stretched out an arm to halt Kate. “Another step and you’ll do a cannonball into the water. No guarantee on the depth.”

  She gasped as she looked into the hole at her feet. “It’s a cavern, not just a well.”

  The opening in the rocky surface formed an irregular circle big enough to swallow a small house. Vegetation around the edge formed dense camouflage. Sunlight glistened on the ferns lining the walls and on the pla
nt roots like a hundred fine fishing lines dipping into the pool. The air was laden with the fecund odors of a hothouse—lush green growth and fresh water.

  “Is there a way down?”

  “No worries. The Maya thought of everything.”

  He led her to the entrance, a stairway carved out of the rocky wall and shored up with the same stone blocks used in the temple’s construction.

  “Incredible,” Kate said in a breathy voice. “You’ll find wooden stairs and walkways in caverns in Mexico but only because some modern entrepreneur has made it tourist accessible. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  Max folded his arms and heaved an exaggerated sigh. “You’re forced to come to the untamed jungle and you find a shopping mall and a spa. A female’s idea of heaven.”

  She grinned. “Not this female. I hate shopping but lead me to the spa. I was just wishing for a bubble bath and a massage.”

  He was just the man to provide the massage. Later. “Watch your step. The stones are slippery from the rain.”

  The stairs angled along the curve of the wall under an overhanging ledge. The scrape of their boots reverberated off the stone. The rock walls arched upward to the wide opening where sunlight poured in. Hundreds of ancient Maya must’ve bathed down here.

  The last step formed a wide platform at the lip of a natural rock bowl. She sat on the edge and removed her boots and socks. Rolling up her pant legs, she fluttered her feet in the clear water. “It’s cool but not icy.”

  “Your bath, milady.” He knelt beside her to fill their canteens. “This part of the pool looks shallow enough for wading but it probably drops off farther out.”

  “Like a swimming pool. A shallow end and a deep end. Perfect. Crystalline water. The Maya believed these cenotes were the gateway to the underworld and the lair of Chac the rain god. They sometimes threw in sacrifices as tribute.”

  “Ay, chica, you really know how to set the mood. This commerce god with his beehive temple seems a little friendlier than that. I was all set for a skinny dip but not with skeletons.” Sitting back on his heels, he added hyperiodide pills to both canteens and screwed on the caps. Maybe he’d just wash up and get the hell out.