Secrets and Lies

by Selena Montgomery

  “Or something.” Because she knew so little herself, she chose her words carefully, spinning a story out of thin air. “Do you know the legend of the Incan gold mines?” she asked quietly.

  Sebastian propped a booted foot flat against the cave wall and leaned back, the gun held lightly in his grip, the safety on. “No.”

  “When the Spanish came to the continent, they tried to barter with the Inca. They wanted the Inca’s gold.”

  “And they enslaved them to get it. So?”

  “The Cinchona is reputedly the history of Pizzaro’s band of conquistadors and their agreement with the Incan priests. In return for sparing the lives of the women, the Inca promised Pizzaro mountains of gold.”

  He’d skimmed the first lines of the diary, and the priest had indeed mentioned Pizzaro. “There were no mountains of gold.”

  “Technically, you’re correct. There were no mountains of gold. But there were mines. Secret mines where the Incan royalty hid their treasure, waiting for the Spanish to leave. The Cinchona is supposedly the recitations of one of Pizzaro’s priests, telling of the last sighting of the Incan gold.”

  Sebastian pushed away from the wall, eyes focused on Kat, skin humming with anticipation. “That’s the Cinchona?”

  A gifted storyteller, Katelyn leaned forward, inviting Sebastian to believe her lovely lies. “Yes. My uncle found the Cinchona, but he obviously told the wrong person. They killed him to get it.”

  “Ancient Incan gold?” He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. A gold mine would be enough not only to retire to an island but to buy a whole chain. The image of warm, golden sand and warm, golden women shimmered before him. That the women looked hazily like Katelyn was a thought he didn’t probe too deeply. “How long would it take to find it?”

  Katelyn hesitated, not sure how long it would take to find imaginary gold. “Four days,” she temporized. “We use the diary to find the mines. I need time to read it and decipher the Spanish and any codes. Four days and it’s all ours, if we work together.” Four days to find what the diary and the Cinchona actually led them to.

  Four days to redeem her soul.

  Sebastian smiled grimly. “And why do I need you?”

  Her smug look should have warned him. “Because I’m the one who can read the diary’s version of Spanish. Unless you studied Spanish with a native of Peru or Bahia, you don’t know Quechua. The priest encoded his diary by writing in the tongue of the conquered. I learned Quechua from my family. Without me, you’ve just got a bunch of paper. Unless you find another partner.”

  “And why do you need me?”

  This time, Katelyn spoke the truth. “There are men who murdered my uncle to get this secret, and I don’t think they plan to stop. You strike me as one of their kind, and I am not as good at this as I need to be.”

  Trying not to be insulted, Sebastian considered her offer. He had the diary and at the first sign of trouble, he’d take it to Helen. Plus, he could keep his eye on Kat, as he’d promised Felix. Sebastian tucked the gun into his waistband and held out his hand. Patience had never been one of his two virtues. “Well, come on, partner. Let’s get started.”

  Chapter 4

  “You’re tying my hands.”

  Katelyn checked over her shoulder and found her “partner” standing at the cave’s entrance, legs apart, arms crossed. The slow tapping of his booted foot warned her that his patience was wearing thin. Tendrils of dawn broke through the copse of trees beyond the cave and sprinkled yellow and orange around him. He blocked the exit like a sentinel, his face about as welcoming.

  “I’m going out to take a bath, Sebastian. That’s all.” She crouched three feet away, shoving a change of clothes into her satchel. Finished, she clipped the metal fastener and turned. Unused to looking up at men, she cocked her head back to look directly into the irritated eyes. “I’m your partner, not your prisoner.”

  “Then tell me, partner, where you’ve been trying to go since last night? And don’t tell me you desperately desired a bath at two in the morning.”

  Her excuse blown, Katelyn opted for a partial response. “I need to think. Alone.”

  “Why does thinking require a bag?” Sebastian replied through gritted teeth. They’d been arguing since his eyes had opened and sunlight had pierced the cavern walls. He’d slept sitting up, propped against the rocky walls, and his temper had taken on a similar mien. After their truce, she’d tried to slip out into the night twice, and both times, he’d returned her to the cave. This was her third attempt at escape. He was tired and cranky and in no mood to bargain. “Do you understand the concept of partnership, Katelyn?”

  “Yes, Sebastian, I do.” She mocked his slow drawling of her name. “And I understand that you have something I want and I have something you want. More importantly, we both have information we have no intention of sharing with each other.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as who you’re working for.” She crossed her bare arms in front of her and watched in fascination as his dark eyes shifted from stormy to steely. The hard look in them made her take a step back. “I’m sure there’s some agency out there that would love to know your whereabouts.”

  “Are you threatening me, gata?” Sebastian asked the question softly.

  “No.” Kat nearly took another step back, feeling stalked like hunter’s prey. Part of her admired the effect, given that the man who spoke hadn’t moved an inch. “No, I’m not threatening you. I am merely pointing out the obvious. You have secrets to keep, and I respect that. Why can’t you?”

  “Because only one of us seems hell-bent on sneaking away from camp.” In a flash, the velvety baritone he used as a voice slid from hard to cajoling. “Kat, honey, I know you don’t trust me. I don’t expect you to. You haven’t a reason in the world. Neither do I. So, excuse my concern and intractability when you keep trying to light out of here as though you already know where the gold is.”

  Through sheer force of will, Kat didn’t react to his accurate guess. Twice during the night, she’d tried to sneak out to the grove of olive trees where she’d secreted away the Cinchona. She couldn’t afford to leave it hidden, not with the unpredictable weather and native denizens of the mountains. The oilskin she’d wrapped around the centuries-old leather would protect it for a night, but no longer. More importantly, she had to have it when they reached their destination. And to know where in the world they were going.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell him what she was retrieving, and she had no other good reason to leave the campsite. But once he announced at dawn that they needed to head into the city for supplies, she realized she had to recover the manuscript before they left for the oceanside.

  Fixing her most agreeable expression into place, Kat tried once more to reason with him. “Look. I need to go out. I’m leaving everything behind except for my pack. You’ve got the diary. What more do you want?”

  “An explanation.” The terse response was accompanied by a quick movement that left her arm empty and had her pack dangling from a wide, elegant hand.

  Kat grabbed for the bag, but he simply pivoted away. “Give it back,” she demanded vainly as he unzipped the seam and dumped the contents to the ground.

  Before she could protest, Sebastian knelt to itemize the contents he had searched the night before. “A wallet. Passport.” He flipped it open, flicked at the crowded stamps of the world traveler. “Benin. Cook Islands. Forgive my skepticism, Dr. Lyda”—he skimmed the bold name typed below the photo—“but you do get around.”

  “I travel for work,” she explained thinly. Her posture stiffened, and she refused to bend to his level, literally or figuratively. “Give me my passport.”

  “Not yet. I didn’t get a good look at your photo in the light last night. Lovely likeness of you.” He lifted the folder slightly, comparing the picture and the living, livid reality. Enjoying her slippery grasp on her temper, he mused aloud, “I think I prefer your hair the way it is now. A river of chocolate silk.”


  Sighing, Kat reached for the document, trying to ignore the compliment and the warmth in her cheeks. “I want my passport, Sebastian.”

  “Of course you do. A passport will let you board a plane.” Amused by her growing ire, Sebastian continued his inventory. “A padlock. I did find this interesting.” He sifted through the tangle of clothes to the heavy object beneath. “You should try a better brand. I had it off this lockbox in four seconds flat.” He flipped open the metal lid and exposed a plane ticket for one to Miami. “Ah, yes, the ticket to get you on your plane.”

  “Why do you care if I leave? You’ve got the diary.”

  “As you pointed out yesterday, my Spanish is good, my Quechua is lousy.” He kept half an eye on the small brown boots that were within easy reach of his face. Once or twice, he thought they aimed at his teeth. Above his head, indignant breaths hissed in and out of the bag’s owner. He snagged the tickets and shut the box. Satisfied and curious, he gathered the remaining items and dumped them inside the tan canvas pack. Swiftly, he closed the bag, rose, and draped one strap over her tense shoulder. He held the plane ticket, passport and wallet in one hand, above his head and out of Kat’s reach. “What are you a doctor of, Dr. Katelyn Lyda?”

  “That’s none of your damned business. Give me my passport, my ticket, and my wallet. Now.”

  “I don’t think you’re a medical doctor,” Sebastian pondered thoughtfully. He ran his eyes over the trim, toned body and the sturdy fingers curling into a fist. Last night, when those hands had cinched the cord around him, he’d felt the light edge of callus at the palm. “You must be a scientist, though. You know the weather, and you move like a mountain goat.”

  Before she could stop herself, Kat snarled, “You compare me to a goat?”

  “No.” He grinned at the very female annoyance. “I said you move like one. But I was more accurate yesterday when I thought you moved like a gazelle.”

  “A gazelle.” For a moment, she absorbed the second casual compliment of the morning, and the answering heat from the eyes that studied her. Then her eyes fell on the black of her wallet. “Those are mine,” Kat insisted. She refused to reach for the purloined items, too proud to jump up and miss. Instead, she opted for dignified anger. “You have no right.”

  With a dismissive shrug, Sebastian retorted, “I told you not to tie my hands.” He tucked the wallet and passport into his pocket and tapped the ticket against his palm. “You can have them as soon as we find the gold. Not before.” The arrangement seemed reasonable to him. She could traipse about as she pleased, but no one would put her on a plane to the U.S. unless she had contacts even he didn’t possess these days. He peered out into the strengthening light. “If you want to clear your head, better make it fast. I’m breaking camp in an hour.”

  “Fine.” Kat squared her shoulders and shrugged the pack fully onto her shoulder. She’d be damned if she was going to fight with an overgrown thug who made his questionable living by stealing from old men and hapless women. She took a couple of steps forward, then her own description of herself as a hapless woman swirled in her brain.

  She’d traveled for nearly a day without sleep, and had to watch helplessly while her favorite uncle was brutally murdered. She was hungry, exhausted, and in way over her head. And, damn it, she wanted her passport back. With a muted cry, she spun on her heel, dropped the bag, and launched herself at Sebastian.

  Because he had turned to gather his own gear, Sebastian didn’t seen the warning signs—at least that’s what he told himself later. He heard a low sound and felt his knees buckle under the tackle. In a flash, he found himself for the second time in as many days sprawled on rocky terrain with an angry woman sitting on him. Precipitously close to being unmanned. Again. Rocks jutted out of the ground and poked him in excruciating symphony. Kat distributed her weight unevenly, most of her settled on his kidneys. And lower.

  His normally even nature tilted screamingly toward exasperation. A simple job had become a wrestling match with a doe-eyed shrew with ungodly curves. “That tears it,” he muttered, temper boiling over. In a deceptively languid move, he glanced over his shoulder. “Kat, you’ve got to the count of three to get off me. One.”

  Kat paid the soft warning no mind. Instead, she leaned forward to hold him still as she dug into his back pocket for her wallet. When her hand curved around taut, firm flesh covered by denim, she struggled not to give in to the unusual urge to pinch a stranger’s butt. Hand burning, she closed her fingers gratefully around the leather square and jerked free.

  Sebastian tensed at the feel of the questing hand, his blood pooling in more than anger. Dangerously, arousal surged to mix with fury. “Two.”

  Triumphant, Kat felt for her passport and tickets. Secure that she had him pinned, she followed the pump of adrenaline and instinct and reached beneath his whipcord lean body for his front pocket. The wrinkle of plastic heralded her find. She slipped her fingers inside to snake the tickets free. These were her things, and no one would take anything else from her without a fight.

  “Ah-ha.” She grasped the paper corner, but the tickets were wedged tight beneath their combined weight. Digging deeper, her fingertips grazed something harder and warmer than rock, and her breath hitched in her lungs, her skin sang.

  “Three.”

  In a blur of motion, Kat found herself no longer astride a captive Sebastian; instead, she lay firmly beneath a looming, furious man. She tried to breathe, tried to think. But he filled her lungs, her vision. Smooth brown skin stretched taut over a face molded from fantastical, erotic dreams. Hot demon eyes bored into hers, coming impossibly close. Like the mouth hewn of stone, slicked with an unexpected softness. Close, wonderfully, terrifyingly close. So close, their breaths mingled in the cramped space between their lips.

  Oh, my, she thought dimly. He’s going to kiss me.

  Damnit all, Sebastian realized, I have to kiss her. What he had intended when he flipped her beneath him vanished as he watched the lush, wide mouth part in anticipation. All he could remember was the incendiary brush of searching fingers against him. Beneath him, along every inch of him, the strong agile body pressed painfully, delightfully. “I warned you,” he whispered. He reached between them and brought her eyes to his, the brown luminescent in the filtered sunlight. “You should have moved.”

  “I didn’t.” The tacit agreement fluttered out before Kat could reason. Unwilling to give herself time to think, she lifted her head.

  The first contact singed and burned and sang through Sebastian. He recoiled, unwilling to accept. But he lived to take what he shouldn’t have.

  Sebastian caught her mouth beneath his and tested the delicate seam between her lips. With gentle forays, he coaxed them apart, and when she opened to him, he sank inside. There, he found tastes too heady to resist. Sweet yielded to tart, melded into spices nature had not conceived. He shifted, gathering her to him, feasting.

  Free to lift her arms, Kat curled them around his broad shoulders, her fingers sinking into the coils of black curls at his nape. How had she lived for thirty-two years without knowing that a kiss could be so—much? Overwhelming and tempting and satisfying and endless.

  She angled her mouth, eager to explore this new experience, to understand the questions sifting through her hazy thoughts. The kiss was frenzied and desperate and tinged with a sweetness that fluttered in her belly. When his tongue touched and captured, she sighed, the exhalation becoming a moan when rough satin swept her mouth fully. “Sebastian.”

  “Katelyn.”

  The answering whisper of her name shivered through Kat, and she twined her arms tighter, determined to know every part of the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. Deeper and deeper, they tasted each other, both determined to sate longings neither had known.

  Sebastian rolled, pulling Kat with him, her lithe body draped along him, her thigh brushing his turgid length. She shifted and the crackle of plastic echoed through the cave like thunder.

  Her ticket.


  As though struck, Kat jerked free and scurried off Sebastian. In her haste, she dropped her recovered wallet, not stopping her backward retreat until she smacked against rock. Unable to believe that she’d been sprawled across a stranger, ready and eager, she fought against waves of mortification. And the spirals of desire that danced still.

  Sebastian propped himself on one elbow and reached down to pick up the leather holder. He stuffed it into his pocket and drew up one leg to prop his other elbow against. The movement brought little relief, and now, he understood that nothing short of Katelyn probably would.

  With a voice that sounded like flint striking stone, Sebastian offered a narrowed smile that spoke eloquently of their embrace. “Go on, gata. Run away. Clear your head. I won’t try to stop you. But be back in one hour, or I’ll come hunting.”

  “You mean looking,” Kat corrected in a husky whisper.

  The lean smile disappeared. “What ever.”

  Kat scurried down the trail, checking behind her every few steps. Sebastian wasn’t following her, but she found it hard to take any comfort in the fact. Her mouth tingled from his kiss, and her skin seemed to tremble wherever he’d touched. She felt bruised, battered, and utterly alive for the first time in her life.

  The errant thought brought her up short, and she stopped at the base of the hill. She didn’t consider herself boring. Maybe she paid her taxes in January and knew her bank balance to the penny, but she lived a life that most would consider thrilling. Traveling to exotic locales to study plants and people few ever encountered was far from unexciting.

  But she’d never met anyone like Sebastian Caine before. He was gorgeous, infuriating and the last man on earth she should rely on. By his own admission, he was a thief, and a very good one.