Post by Kim Wollenburg on Aug 12, 2011 17:09:57 GMT -5
I thought I'd post my first chapter. If anyone feels like reading and sharing your thoughts, I'd appreciate it. I have mixed feelings about this. Some say my heroine isn't likeable, others like her. Does the beginning start off with questions? Is it too slow? Too fast? Boring? I'd just like impressions - as a reader, do you like this, would you read more? Thanks!
Chapter One
Corihuayrachina
Vilcabamba, Peru
Present Time
Rappelling into a potentially bottomless pit: priceless. Engaging in a no-win discussion at the same moment: a freaking waste of time. Mia blew out a breath and swung her head from side to side. White light from her headlamp bounced off the smooth andesite volcanic rock wall in front of and behind her. No escape from the predicament she now found herself. A predicament she could only lay at one pair of steel-toed booted feet. Hers.
“I don’t have time for this,” she growled.
From above, Graham Reynolds, her business partner of three years, and recently, the other half of a bad decision brought on by too many Pisco Sours, shouted down at her, “What’d you say?” His deep voice bounced off the hand-chipped cistern walls.
“I’m a little busy. Can we talk about this later?’” Her clipped tone matched the level of her aggravation. Good for her, but she was sure the edge in her voice was completely lost on Graham.
Perceptive he was not.
Why the hell was he bothering her with this now? Ah, but you knew this was coming, Mia. Over the last two days, all the signs had been there. Subtle hints he figured her sleeping with him, one freaking time, meant something besides a release and an overabundance of alcohol. But she’d been too careless, or deliberately obtuse, and dismissed the noises he made about making their partnership and relationship something much more permanent.
Graham, a smudged blob in front of the cave’s low light, crouched at the lip of the pit. With her abseiling into an unknown situation, he’d stayed above to be her belayer. Not that she’d have let him go first. Her hunt; her choice.
“No,” he answered.
Her lips pulled into a snarl before she responded, “Why the hell not?”
“Because this way, I have your undivided attention, Mia-mine.”
The urge to continue downward danced over her skin, and she let out an exasperated sigh as she peered into the depths of the newly discovered cisterna. If he got off her back, she’d be the first one in the pit. The first one to find its treasures.
Odds were high she’d find something the stuffy Trustees of the British Museum would be drooling to take off her hands. Maybe she’d find burial shrouds or a rare Moche backflap, the traditional armor made of gold, copper and silver worn by their warrior-priests. She smiled. That would be quite a coup and the money would add quite nicely to her bank account. Mercenary, sure, but a girl had to live. And she liked to live.
So did Graham. Better than her. So why was he interfering by wanting to talk about their, um, relationship right now? A shit-load of money in her pocket meant a shit-load in his.
“Mia?”
Focus, Mia, focus.
She had two choices. Go back up. Then she’d be forced to talk. Or ignore him and get on with checking out the dried-out cisterna beckoning below her. Time passed as quick as Indiana Jones’ bullwhip. If Sweeney, her relic hunting opportunity spotter, was right, she’d only have two days to explore the pit. After that, the real archeological team with a real permit to excavate Corihuayrachina would arrive, and she’d be kicked out on her ass.
But if she avoided the conversation . . . Mia pursed her lips. Might as well get this over with. Didn’t matter what she said since Graham wouldn’t be satisfied. Or happy. And he controlled the rope. He could easily halt her descent. While she could climb on her own, that would waste more valuable time. She was metaphorically, and literally, stuck. Damn it!
“Fine, Graham, let’s talk,” she ground out between clenched jaws.
“You coming up?”
Hell, no. If she did that, she’d definitely be up there the rest of the afternoon and another day would be wasted. “No, I’m fine.”
“Have you thought about what I asked?”
Ah, the proposal. Had she thought about it? God, yes, but not in the way he expected. The damn thing had lingered in her mind like a niggling threat to her perfect life and the perfect partnership. Sleeping with him. She shook her head. Note to self: no more alcohol.
“Well?”
Shit. He wasn’t going to give up. “Yeah, Graham, I have.”
How was she going to tell him she didn’t want to marry him? Oh, the words would come easy. Graham, I can’t marry you. I don’t want to destroy our partnership just because I had too much alcohol and felt horny and you were the closest hunk in sight.
See, no problem with the words. Lovely, Mia. Geez, painting that night in such a light sounded callous even to her, but she had never lied to him. Never indicated or promised more. She loved her globetrotting and freewheeling life. It didn’t come with a demanding husband or whining kids. No ties. No commitments. No one counting on her.
And no one to let her down.
She’d tried a serious relationship, tried love, once. For two years. Not quite marriage, but for her, close enough. Thought it could work, but she was too independent, and he was too disapproving. Their philosophical approaches to what she did, and life in general, spanned too much territory neither had been willing to travel.
Mia shrugged off the walk down memory lane. Time to face her error in judgment and shatter their partnership. “Graham, listen, I—”
“What’s that?” he interrupted.
She cocked her head, turning an ear upward. The only sounds she heard were the mournful cry of the wind as it blew through cracks and crevices and the occasional faint squeak of vampire bats from the subterranean depths. About what she’d expect in a Peruvian cave not frequented by tourists. It had only been pure luck that had put Sweeney in Lima when the cisterna had been discovered.
“What’s what?”
“Did you hear it?” The quiet timbre of his voice dimmed as if he’d turned his head away.
“Hear what? I didn’t hear anything.”
“I did.” The light moved, plunging the thirty or so feet above her into total darkness. “Hang on, I’ll check it out and be right back.” The light darted from side to side as he moved.
Hang on? She rolled her eyes. Where did he think she was going to go? “Graham, stop screwing around.”
A few small stones displaced by his boots, pelted the top of her head. “Hey, watch out!”
He knew better than to kick something down without calling rock in warning. She blinked away the fine grit then sneezed. The sudden explosion of sound cracked like a shot and echoed upward. Hmm. No sarcastic reply from him about her waking the dead. In fact, no noise at all. Not even the shuffle of his boots.
After bracing her soles on the pit wall, she looked up. Dust motes cavorted and sparkled in the light of her headlamp, which achieved only a slight lessening of the inky black above her. The glow from Graham’s headlamp was completely missing.
“Graham?”
Nothing. She was going to kick his ass if he was playing some kind of game with her hind end dangling high above the pit’s floor.
There. She froze. For a minute she thought she heard the distant mumble of voices from further down the tunnel. Tilting her head, she strained to listen. The dull thump of heavy boots bounced into the cisterna sounding less like the soft pad of Graham’s worn-smooth soles and more like thick-soled military boots. Like the bulls running in Pamplona, the wearers seemed to charge to the pit’s edge.
Anxiety rolled in her stomach. She switched off her headlamp. Her gaze was locked on the rim high above her. Peruvian bandits, maybe? The heavily armed bands of thieves and murderers prowled the jungles and ruins to waylay and steal from stupid tourists and foolish tomb raiders who explored remote sites without protection.
Way to go, Mia, her conscience taunted. Sweat pooled between her breasts. What the hell was she going to do if bandits had stumbled across their camp? She’d left her Glock, damn it, in her backpack on the cave floor. Not that she could do much in her current position. Although…sans Glock didn’t mean she was without resources. The worn hilt of the Bowie knife comfortably strapped to her calf was proof of that.
The thud of boots stopped. More dirt and pebbles dribbled onto her head, some deflecting off her helmet with tiny plinks. Others pelted her cheeks. In her chest, her heart galloped and her muscles flooded with the heady flush of adrenaline.
Still, she said nothing. Did nothing. Instincts made sharp by years of dangerous situations screamed something was wrong. Whoever was above her was not Graham. She didn’t even want to distract her mind to wonder where he was. If he was injured, keeping her wits about her was the only way to keep them alive. Lord, please keep Graham safe.
The rope jerked, catching her off guard. Her right boot slipped from the wall with a spine-shivering scrape against stone. Was that a test? To see if someone was on the other end? Her palms turned moist. Whoever was up there couldn’t fail to feel her weight.
“Hola! I know you are there.”
The cultured Castilian Spanish voice gave her pause. So, not bandits. Okay. Dealers in black-market antiquities? Not okay. The thugs running stolen history through the black-market were unpredictable, but always lethal.
She’d rather have the bandits.
“Mia! Don’t…” Graham’s plea ended abruptly with a heavy flat sound, of flesh pounding flesh.
Anger mixed with concern rose to her chest. She pulled her lips tight. Still couldn’t see a damn thing. Using the tips of her fingers, she felt the bare walls for solid toe or finger holds. Not much in the way of free-climbing holds. A few splits and cracks in the stone. She was already edging, her boots barely gripping the slight holds as she braced herself.
“Criada, I do not like games. You will answer.”
A hard yank on the rope rocked her from side to side. Boots slipped. Her body careened into the wall with a muffled slap. Mia couldn’t stop the soft grunt as her hip connected with hard stone. Sonofabitch. The bastard was strong. Would he drop her into the pit?
She reached for the pack on her back, carefully slipped out the crampons and slipped them over her boots. She had no other option than to use the ice climbing equipment on the stone. He’d hear her try to knock in the pitons.
Better answer the man before he decided she wasn’t worth the effort. “Who are you, and what the hell do you want?”
“Ah, so you are there.” A smoky beam of light from a high-powered flashlight arrowed at her.
Mia closed her eyes briefly at the sudden slap of brightness. Red sparks danced behind her eyelids. She blinked rapidly to clear her gaze. “Where’s Graham?”
Rolling laughter rumbled around her and set her teeth on edge. “Your lover, si? He is of no consequence. A means to an end. You should worry about yourself.”
Biting off a few more choice words, she huffed out a breath. Had they killed Graham? She’d tear their hearts out. As annoying as he was currently acting, she sure as shit didn’t want anything to happen to him.
“Are you ready to talk, senorita?”
“I don’t see as I have many choices.” Mia slipped her hand down to her calf and slowly pulled out her knife. Catching the light from the top, the silver blade flashed, giving her a ridiculous sense of security.
“You are, I’ve been told, something of an expert in finding things. Buried, thought to be lost, things. My employer has an opportunity for you. An opportunity to find the biggest, most valuable, treasure in the world.”
“Not interested.”
The man sniggered, a patronizing rumble, as if he indulged a recalcitrant child. Her hackles rose. “Ah, but you see, your lover, he has offered your services to my employer, and my employer has graciously accepted.”
She hissed. What the hell? “Graham doesn’t speak for both of us.”
“I assure you, criada, he did.”
Mia’s jaw clenched. Damn, damn, damn. Her mind whirled, filled with confusion and quite a few unkind comments about Graham. What had he done? As soon as the thought entered her mind, she shoved it aside. Time enough later, after she was sure he was okay, to find out. First order of business? Get both of them out of this mess with skins intact.
“My employer wishes to meet with you to discuss this treasure. I will send instructions to your office detailing when and where. I suggest you attend.” The man’s voice pitched low, deep and sharp with a cutting edge. “Otherwise,” he fired off a few Spanish words she could barely hear, “those you care about will receive the same treatment as your lover.”
“And senorita? Do not think to go to la policia. We are everywhere.” The man’s tone deepened. “Defy us…I think you know the consequences.”
More meaty thudding and the clunk of boots against flesh followed by a few sharp cries from Graham. Alarm rippled along her spine. The bastards. The rope whip-snapped, stretched then released, and she plummeted.
“Damn it!” Mia jammed her crampons into the rock wall. Metal spikes scraped against the rock before biting deep, halting her descent with a violent wrench of her back and shoulders. The tough nylon of her harness bit into her upper thighs, pinching flesh as the rope slammed into the belay loops and pulled taut. She bit her lip on a cry of pain. Terror kicked her heart into double-time as icy sweat pooled between her breasts.
“Christ,” she murmured, resting her helmeted forehead against the wall.
She lifted her head at an agony-filled cry, followed by the dull thump of something heavy hitting the cavern floor above her. More pebbles and dust cascaded onto her head. Mia bent her neck, preventing debris from hitting her in the face. Small stones slid down her neckline, scratching the skin under her shirt and lodging inside her sports bra. Masculine laughter rebounded throughout the cave and into the pit.
When the worst of the detritus trickled to a halt, she knuckled the grit away from her eyes, switched on her headlamp, and focused her gaze on the arm hanging over the side. Limp, like a soggy noodle or stretched out elastic. Jesus, Graham. Was he dead? She fought the nausea twisting her insides and took a steadying breath. The thud of boots receded then disappeared.
“Graham?” she called. Instead of a reply, all she heard was the continuous moan of the wind as it moved through the cave. “Graham, damn it, answer me.”
Still no reply. Just that flaccid hand seeming to reach out, fingers beckoning for help.
Muscles in her legs quivered with the strain of stopping her fall. Acid in her stomach swelled, trying to force bile into her throat. She forced the sour liquid down. How was she going to get out of the pit? With Graham out of commission, he wouldn’t be able to pull her to the top, and she was not rigged to climb even with steel spiked crampons fixed to her boots. But she had no choice.
Swinging her backpack to the side again, Mia dug deeper into its pockets. Her fingers brushed up against the saw-teeth of a few of the spring-loaded camming devices made to bite into even the smallest fissure. Thank god her oh-so-efficient assistant, Jordyn, hadn’t had time to get her very organized hands on Mia’s things before they flew to Peru from the Ozark Mountains in Arkansas.
Now to find any significant cracks or cuts she could use.
Using her helmet light, Mia scanned the smooth surface of the volcanic rock. Spotting a decent one, she slipped in one of the Camelots and jerked the trigger to expand the cams. After snapping in a draw, she repeated the same steps and, bit by bit, pulled her body to the top. The muscles in her arms joined her legs in quivering at the exertion.
“Guess I need to spend more time on the rock-wall,” she muttered as she reached the lip. Bracing herself to push her aching body over the edge, she heard a soft moan. “Graham? ”
“Hmmm?” he mumbled, obviously in pain.
“Stay with me, partner.” She heaved herself over the side and tugged Graham into her lap.
Her headlamp washed over him as where she smoothed his sweat-dampened hair from his battered face. The wan glow revealed his split skin and swollen lips. Semi-dried blood trailed from the corner of his torn bottom lip to his chin. Droplets on his clothing gleamed in the dim light, flashes of ruby tears.
When she ran her hand down his side, he hissed and jerked. Focusing on his breathing, she noticed the raspy edges. Damn, he had a fractured rib. Maybe two.
“Mia, I’m sorry,” he whispered. One eye cracked open. Remorse and guilt shone in equal measure.
She sighed. “It’s okay, Graham. We’ll talk later.”
Despite the sour feeling in her stomach from the thugs’ attack, she just didn’t have the heart to tear him a new asshole. She’d wait until he healed. The abrasions, broken ribs and the bruises were minor enough. He’d live.
At least until she found out what the hell he’d gotten her into.
***
“What a bastard!”
Hearing such a word from her assistant’s mouth was blasphemy. The petite blonde with sparkling green eyes and sharp-pointed nose dusted with freckles, wrinkled said nose and frowned. Mia hid a smile. Unlike her boss who didn’t shy away from profanity and had quite the repertoire, Jordyn kept her swear words to a minimum.
In this case, her cursing fit since Mia had just told Jordyn what Graham had done. Or at least what Mia thought Graham had done. They stood outside his room in the Nacional Dos de Mayo hospital in Lima. The stark white corridors and the pungent antiseptic smell, standard operating procedures for hospitals everywhere, made her inner child cringe. Just because she had more than an occasional reason to utilize hospital services didn’t mean she had to enjoy being there.
“You should just leave him here, Mia. If he volunteered you for something dangerous, he deserves to suffer. Pull the plug, I say!” Jordyn flung out her hand, her tone rising at the end.
A middle-aged nurse, her shoes squelching on the glossy tiled floor, looked over her glasses and glared at them as she walked by. Mia smiled and winked at the nurse then turned back to her drama queen assistant.
“He’s not on life support, Jordyn. There’s no plug.”
“Couldn’t we get one?”
A chuckle escaped Mia.. “Geez, Jordyn, blood-thirsty, much? Graham’s going to be fine.”
Jordyn tossed her head. “More’s the pity.”
At this point, without knowing the details except he’d somehow gotten them involved with a dangerous organization, Mia agreed with the assessment. “I need to go talk to him.”
Jordyn nodded. “Sure. Want me to stay till you’re done?”
“No, I’ll walk from here and meet you back at the hotel. The Miraflores Park Hotel in the Malecon de la Reserva, right?”
“Yep. That’s it. Room 532. Be careful. Those jerks that attacked you could be watching you in the hospital.”
Mia jerked her head in acceptance even though it was unlikely the Spaniard and his men would be watching to see what she’d do. Since her “new employer” planned to contact her later, she didn’t expect anyone to hang around the hospital. And it was highly likely they’d know where to find her anyway. Black market runners had resources she could only dream of.
Before she could turn away, Jordyn darted at Mia and wrapped her arms around Mia’s waist. She let out a soft oomph and staggered back a slight step, carrying the girl with her before Mia found her balance for both of them. Standing stiffly, arms straight at her side, she looked down at the top of Jordyn’s blonde head. What was this hug all about? In the two years they’d worked together, not once had her assistant hugged her. And she’d been in more danger than this.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Mia,” Jordyn whispered.
Mia had no idea what type of response to give. After an unending second or two, Jordyn disengaged, stepped back and swept her fingers through the mop of tousled blonde curls that defied any attempt at control. Something that disgusted her control freak assistant.
Pink kissed Jordyn’s pale cheeks and her eyes dropped. “See you later.” She turned to leave then whipped around, her embarrassment forgotten. “Want me to have room service fix you something to eat?”
As if making sure Mia didn’t say no, her stomach picked that moment to rumble loudly.
Jordyn giggled. “Guess that means yes,” she said and stormed down the hall.
Lips quirking into a grin, she watched her assistant disappear around the corner. That was Jordyn. Full speed ahead and take no prisoners. Grabbing the room door handle, Mia turned and pushed. The door gave with a quick inward pull that had her half stumbling into the room. Her forward motion came to an abrupt halt when she crashed into a hard shape.
Two hands grabbed her by the shoulders. “Easy. Where’s the fire?”
Helvete, she swore. Shrugging off the man’s grasp, Mia lifted her eyes to meet those of the stone wall she’d run into. Or maybe he ran into her. She supposed it depended on one’s opinion.
Her eyes traveled up. And up. Good lord. The Goliath towered over her five foot seven inch frame. Her gaze ran into a square chin then continued she found his emerald, smiling eyes. He must be about six four, easy.
And not Peruvian. Not even a mestizo. In fact, with his clean cut, long face, and sun-kissed blond curls, he was as far away from Peruvian as a person could get.
An easy smile played on his lips, deep lines creasing the corners of his eyes. Those piercing green irises took her breath away. She’d never seen such a bright color represented in pupils. Had to be contacts. What a damn shame. She didn’t like artifice in any form.
“Miss, are you okay?”
Mr. Gorgeous Eyes backpedaled, and Mia got a good look at him. At his tall frame partially wrapped in a white lab coat that should have made him look boxy and unattractive but didn’t. Hell no. In fact, it stretched across his broad chest in an evocative pull and tug that hinted at a sculpted chest.
Hmm. Her libido kicked into high gear. Anyone want to play doctor?
“My apologies. Are you all right?”
The soft English accent purred over her skin. Yum. Gorgeous and English. A tempting combination, one she had a weakness for.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m Doctor Kincaid.” His head canted to the side. “Are you a relative or friend?”
“I’m—“
A scratchy voice interrupted, “She’s my fiancée.”
Mia flinched, and her brows drew together. Obviously, the beating had dislodged something in his brain. She didn’t recall agreeing to marry him.
“Fiancée?” tall and sexy, asked mimicking the question in her mind.
Mia looked around Dr. Kincaid’s broad shoulders and scowled at Graham. Her partner seemed small in the hospital bed. Diminished. As if the beating, or her understanding of the reason behind it, took something from him. His light brown hair lay in tangled waves over the bandage enveloping the top of his skull. A bruise in lovely shades of red, purple and yellowish-green circled one blood-shot eye.
After a final glare, she forced a smile she didn’t feel and turned back to Dr. Kincaid and offered her hand. “I’m Mia Langdon.”
A gleam of something flashed into his eyes when she said her name. More than that, his gaze seemed to sharpen, turning from languid interest to intense examination. Wonder what he knew about her? She gave a mental shrug and continued, “Graham and I are partners.”
“Ah, partners.” An unspoken questioned hovered behind the smile.
“Business partners,” she clarified. She didn’t want to hurt Graham, especially not until she discovered exactly what he’d done, but she had no intentions of letting him go on thinking she’d agreed to marry him.
As Dr. Kincaid nodded, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. He took her hand, his large warm one engulfing hers in a comforting grasp and held it just a bit longer than was appropriate. She didn’t mind. Not when her libido was running rampant.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Langdon.”
“Mia,” Graham whined. “I need to talk to you.”
Yeah, she bet he did. And she so wanted to talk to him. Ignoring Graham for the moment, she offered the doctor an apologetic smile. “Nice to meet you, Doc. If you’ll excuse me...”
Sidling around him, she went to the bed and stood beside Graham and didn’t watch the handsome doctor leave. The door reopened then closed and Graham relaxed. Putz.
He reached out and took Mia’s hand. Before she could even think about it, she snatched it back. She ignored the flaring of his nostrils and the flash of hurt darkening his eyes. Annoyance rolled in her stomach like a storm-tossed sea.
“Graham, what’s going on?”
His gaze darted from side to side as if he was looking for an out. Fat chance. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I haven’t had a bath in two days and have worn these clothes for both of them. I’m hungry, and I want to go to sleep. What did you do?”
He shrugged. “I’ve, uh, gotten into trouble.” His explanation tripped to a halt.
“Go on.”
“Well. . .” He swallowed hard then let out a nervous chuckle. “Um. I met someone who said they would dissolve my debts if you found something for them.”
Debts? She hadn’t known he had debts as in the kind with a capital D. Letting that slide for a moment, she asked, “Found something?”
She clenched her fists. She did not like the direction this conversation was going. She worked for herself. Not for others. Sure, what she found often ended up in others’ hands, but she found each item first for herself. Then sold them. “What sort of something?”
When he didn’t explain right away, she put a hand on her hip. “Graham, spill it.”
“Sekhmet’s arrows.”
She felt her mouth drop open and closed it with a snap that ground her teeth together. “Sekhmet’s arrows? Did something get dislodged in your brain with that beating?”
Mia spun around, strode to the small window, and looked out over the front entrance of the hospital. Hanging over the parking lot like a soft blanket, the garua, a dense fog, coated vehicles and vegetation with moisture. Between September and March each year, Peru, especially the coastal areas, was blanketed by the clear fog. She’d be in for a soaking by the time she got to the Miraflores.
Mia sighed, her breath misting the glass. Sekhmet’s arrows. Any tomb raider or relic hunter worth their salt knew what the arrows were. Or, they knew of the story. Sekhmet, the Mighty One, a warrior goddess of Egypt, also known as the Eye of Ra, a weapon of vengeance. According to Egyptian mythology, she’d nearly destroyed humanity with her flaming arrows and thirst for human blood. And someone wanted Mia to find them?
“Mia?”
She turned back to face Graham. Her partner, once a man full of vital energy and strength, now seemed so much less. Why hadn’t she ever noticed his soft chin and smallish eyes? And while she still held a soft sentiment for him, if she’d had any doubts about saying no to the marriage proposal, they were gone now.
“No.”
He sat up, face screwed into a wince. “You can’t say no.”
She let out a quick bark of laughter. “Of course, I can. I just did. Find the arrows yourself.”
“They’re offering a lot of money. Enough so you don’t have to sell any more objects. You can retire.”
“I’m not interested in retiring, Graham.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, a sign he was getting frustrated. “Come on, Mia, you know I can’t do this alone. You have an instinct for such things. I need you.”
“That’s too damn bad. The arrows are dangerous. And in the wrong hands, they’re deadly.”
With that, she turned on her heel. At the door, she looked over her shoulder and gentled her tone. “Look, rest up and get better. We’ll talk about money when you get out of the hospital and we return to England. See you later.”
As she stepped through, she heard Graham calling for her to return. He wanted to discuss the offer. Ignoring his entreaty, she headed down the long hallway. Against the tile, her worn boot heels made a soft click-thud. Before she turned the corner, she looked back over her shoulders. The handsome doctor, Kincaid, stood at the nurse’s station. She could feel his sharp gaze boring into her as she walked away. What was with this guy?
She sucked in a deep breath and immediately regretted it. The pungent scents of disinfectants stung the inside of her nose, reminding her of all the reasons she hated hospitals. Even gorgeous doctors weren’t immune from her dislike.
All right, Mia, shake it off. Damn that Graham. This was all his fault. She wasn’t usually this suspicious. Okay, so she was but not so jittery. Graham should know her by now. She might be mercenary. She might be willing to risk life and limb to retrieve some of the relics she did. What she wasn’t willing or mercenary enough to do was go after a blood-thirsty relic from Ancient Egypt that could possibly destroy the human race. Even she had limits.
Her belief and views on things that go bump in the night made her unpopular and often the butt of jokes from the more scientific types. They just didn’t understand. Including one stick-up-his-ass archeologist in particular. She gave her head a mental shake. Christ. That was one path she didn’t want to walk.
At least, not without a boatload of wine and chocolate.
Chapter One
Corihuayrachina
Vilcabamba, Peru
Present Time
Rappelling into a potentially bottomless pit: priceless. Engaging in a no-win discussion at the same moment: a freaking waste of time. Mia blew out a breath and swung her head from side to side. White light from her headlamp bounced off the smooth andesite volcanic rock wall in front of and behind her. No escape from the predicament she now found herself. A predicament she could only lay at one pair of steel-toed booted feet. Hers.
“I don’t have time for this,” she growled.
From above, Graham Reynolds, her business partner of three years, and recently, the other half of a bad decision brought on by too many Pisco Sours, shouted down at her, “What’d you say?” His deep voice bounced off the hand-chipped cistern walls.
“I’m a little busy. Can we talk about this later?’” Her clipped tone matched the level of her aggravation. Good for her, but she was sure the edge in her voice was completely lost on Graham.
Perceptive he was not.
Why the hell was he bothering her with this now? Ah, but you knew this was coming, Mia. Over the last two days, all the signs had been there. Subtle hints he figured her sleeping with him, one freaking time, meant something besides a release and an overabundance of alcohol. But she’d been too careless, or deliberately obtuse, and dismissed the noises he made about making their partnership and relationship something much more permanent.
Graham, a smudged blob in front of the cave’s low light, crouched at the lip of the pit. With her abseiling into an unknown situation, he’d stayed above to be her belayer. Not that she’d have let him go first. Her hunt; her choice.
“No,” he answered.
Her lips pulled into a snarl before she responded, “Why the hell not?”
“Because this way, I have your undivided attention, Mia-mine.”
The urge to continue downward danced over her skin, and she let out an exasperated sigh as she peered into the depths of the newly discovered cisterna. If he got off her back, she’d be the first one in the pit. The first one to find its treasures.
Odds were high she’d find something the stuffy Trustees of the British Museum would be drooling to take off her hands. Maybe she’d find burial shrouds or a rare Moche backflap, the traditional armor made of gold, copper and silver worn by their warrior-priests. She smiled. That would be quite a coup and the money would add quite nicely to her bank account. Mercenary, sure, but a girl had to live. And she liked to live.
So did Graham. Better than her. So why was he interfering by wanting to talk about their, um, relationship right now? A shit-load of money in her pocket meant a shit-load in his.
“Mia?”
Focus, Mia, focus.
She had two choices. Go back up. Then she’d be forced to talk. Or ignore him and get on with checking out the dried-out cisterna beckoning below her. Time passed as quick as Indiana Jones’ bullwhip. If Sweeney, her relic hunting opportunity spotter, was right, she’d only have two days to explore the pit. After that, the real archeological team with a real permit to excavate Corihuayrachina would arrive, and she’d be kicked out on her ass.
But if she avoided the conversation . . . Mia pursed her lips. Might as well get this over with. Didn’t matter what she said since Graham wouldn’t be satisfied. Or happy. And he controlled the rope. He could easily halt her descent. While she could climb on her own, that would waste more valuable time. She was metaphorically, and literally, stuck. Damn it!
“Fine, Graham, let’s talk,” she ground out between clenched jaws.
“You coming up?”
Hell, no. If she did that, she’d definitely be up there the rest of the afternoon and another day would be wasted. “No, I’m fine.”
“Have you thought about what I asked?”
Ah, the proposal. Had she thought about it? God, yes, but not in the way he expected. The damn thing had lingered in her mind like a niggling threat to her perfect life and the perfect partnership. Sleeping with him. She shook her head. Note to self: no more alcohol.
“Well?”
Shit. He wasn’t going to give up. “Yeah, Graham, I have.”
How was she going to tell him she didn’t want to marry him? Oh, the words would come easy. Graham, I can’t marry you. I don’t want to destroy our partnership just because I had too much alcohol and felt horny and you were the closest hunk in sight.
See, no problem with the words. Lovely, Mia. Geez, painting that night in such a light sounded callous even to her, but she had never lied to him. Never indicated or promised more. She loved her globetrotting and freewheeling life. It didn’t come with a demanding husband or whining kids. No ties. No commitments. No one counting on her.
And no one to let her down.
She’d tried a serious relationship, tried love, once. For two years. Not quite marriage, but for her, close enough. Thought it could work, but she was too independent, and he was too disapproving. Their philosophical approaches to what she did, and life in general, spanned too much territory neither had been willing to travel.
Mia shrugged off the walk down memory lane. Time to face her error in judgment and shatter their partnership. “Graham, listen, I—”
“What’s that?” he interrupted.
She cocked her head, turning an ear upward. The only sounds she heard were the mournful cry of the wind as it blew through cracks and crevices and the occasional faint squeak of vampire bats from the subterranean depths. About what she’d expect in a Peruvian cave not frequented by tourists. It had only been pure luck that had put Sweeney in Lima when the cisterna had been discovered.
“What’s what?”
“Did you hear it?” The quiet timbre of his voice dimmed as if he’d turned his head away.
“Hear what? I didn’t hear anything.”
“I did.” The light moved, plunging the thirty or so feet above her into total darkness. “Hang on, I’ll check it out and be right back.” The light darted from side to side as he moved.
Hang on? She rolled her eyes. Where did he think she was going to go? “Graham, stop screwing around.”
A few small stones displaced by his boots, pelted the top of her head. “Hey, watch out!”
He knew better than to kick something down without calling rock in warning. She blinked away the fine grit then sneezed. The sudden explosion of sound cracked like a shot and echoed upward. Hmm. No sarcastic reply from him about her waking the dead. In fact, no noise at all. Not even the shuffle of his boots.
After bracing her soles on the pit wall, she looked up. Dust motes cavorted and sparkled in the light of her headlamp, which achieved only a slight lessening of the inky black above her. The glow from Graham’s headlamp was completely missing.
“Graham?”
Nothing. She was going to kick his ass if he was playing some kind of game with her hind end dangling high above the pit’s floor.
There. She froze. For a minute she thought she heard the distant mumble of voices from further down the tunnel. Tilting her head, she strained to listen. The dull thump of heavy boots bounced into the cisterna sounding less like the soft pad of Graham’s worn-smooth soles and more like thick-soled military boots. Like the bulls running in Pamplona, the wearers seemed to charge to the pit’s edge.
Anxiety rolled in her stomach. She switched off her headlamp. Her gaze was locked on the rim high above her. Peruvian bandits, maybe? The heavily armed bands of thieves and murderers prowled the jungles and ruins to waylay and steal from stupid tourists and foolish tomb raiders who explored remote sites without protection.
Way to go, Mia, her conscience taunted. Sweat pooled between her breasts. What the hell was she going to do if bandits had stumbled across their camp? She’d left her Glock, damn it, in her backpack on the cave floor. Not that she could do much in her current position. Although…sans Glock didn’t mean she was without resources. The worn hilt of the Bowie knife comfortably strapped to her calf was proof of that.
The thud of boots stopped. More dirt and pebbles dribbled onto her head, some deflecting off her helmet with tiny plinks. Others pelted her cheeks. In her chest, her heart galloped and her muscles flooded with the heady flush of adrenaline.
Still, she said nothing. Did nothing. Instincts made sharp by years of dangerous situations screamed something was wrong. Whoever was above her was not Graham. She didn’t even want to distract her mind to wonder where he was. If he was injured, keeping her wits about her was the only way to keep them alive. Lord, please keep Graham safe.
The rope jerked, catching her off guard. Her right boot slipped from the wall with a spine-shivering scrape against stone. Was that a test? To see if someone was on the other end? Her palms turned moist. Whoever was up there couldn’t fail to feel her weight.
“Hola! I know you are there.”
The cultured Castilian Spanish voice gave her pause. So, not bandits. Okay. Dealers in black-market antiquities? Not okay. The thugs running stolen history through the black-market were unpredictable, but always lethal.
She’d rather have the bandits.
“Mia! Don’t…” Graham’s plea ended abruptly with a heavy flat sound, of flesh pounding flesh.
Anger mixed with concern rose to her chest. She pulled her lips tight. Still couldn’t see a damn thing. Using the tips of her fingers, she felt the bare walls for solid toe or finger holds. Not much in the way of free-climbing holds. A few splits and cracks in the stone. She was already edging, her boots barely gripping the slight holds as she braced herself.
“Criada, I do not like games. You will answer.”
A hard yank on the rope rocked her from side to side. Boots slipped. Her body careened into the wall with a muffled slap. Mia couldn’t stop the soft grunt as her hip connected with hard stone. Sonofabitch. The bastard was strong. Would he drop her into the pit?
She reached for the pack on her back, carefully slipped out the crampons and slipped them over her boots. She had no other option than to use the ice climbing equipment on the stone. He’d hear her try to knock in the pitons.
Better answer the man before he decided she wasn’t worth the effort. “Who are you, and what the hell do you want?”
“Ah, so you are there.” A smoky beam of light from a high-powered flashlight arrowed at her.
Mia closed her eyes briefly at the sudden slap of brightness. Red sparks danced behind her eyelids. She blinked rapidly to clear her gaze. “Where’s Graham?”
Rolling laughter rumbled around her and set her teeth on edge. “Your lover, si? He is of no consequence. A means to an end. You should worry about yourself.”
Biting off a few more choice words, she huffed out a breath. Had they killed Graham? She’d tear their hearts out. As annoying as he was currently acting, she sure as shit didn’t want anything to happen to him.
“Are you ready to talk, senorita?”
“I don’t see as I have many choices.” Mia slipped her hand down to her calf and slowly pulled out her knife. Catching the light from the top, the silver blade flashed, giving her a ridiculous sense of security.
“You are, I’ve been told, something of an expert in finding things. Buried, thought to be lost, things. My employer has an opportunity for you. An opportunity to find the biggest, most valuable, treasure in the world.”
“Not interested.”
The man sniggered, a patronizing rumble, as if he indulged a recalcitrant child. Her hackles rose. “Ah, but you see, your lover, he has offered your services to my employer, and my employer has graciously accepted.”
She hissed. What the hell? “Graham doesn’t speak for both of us.”
“I assure you, criada, he did.”
Mia’s jaw clenched. Damn, damn, damn. Her mind whirled, filled with confusion and quite a few unkind comments about Graham. What had he done? As soon as the thought entered her mind, she shoved it aside. Time enough later, after she was sure he was okay, to find out. First order of business? Get both of them out of this mess with skins intact.
“My employer wishes to meet with you to discuss this treasure. I will send instructions to your office detailing when and where. I suggest you attend.” The man’s voice pitched low, deep and sharp with a cutting edge. “Otherwise,” he fired off a few Spanish words she could barely hear, “those you care about will receive the same treatment as your lover.”
“And senorita? Do not think to go to la policia. We are everywhere.” The man’s tone deepened. “Defy us…I think you know the consequences.”
More meaty thudding and the clunk of boots against flesh followed by a few sharp cries from Graham. Alarm rippled along her spine. The bastards. The rope whip-snapped, stretched then released, and she plummeted.
“Damn it!” Mia jammed her crampons into the rock wall. Metal spikes scraped against the rock before biting deep, halting her descent with a violent wrench of her back and shoulders. The tough nylon of her harness bit into her upper thighs, pinching flesh as the rope slammed into the belay loops and pulled taut. She bit her lip on a cry of pain. Terror kicked her heart into double-time as icy sweat pooled between her breasts.
“Christ,” she murmured, resting her helmeted forehead against the wall.
She lifted her head at an agony-filled cry, followed by the dull thump of something heavy hitting the cavern floor above her. More pebbles and dust cascaded onto her head. Mia bent her neck, preventing debris from hitting her in the face. Small stones slid down her neckline, scratching the skin under her shirt and lodging inside her sports bra. Masculine laughter rebounded throughout the cave and into the pit.
When the worst of the detritus trickled to a halt, she knuckled the grit away from her eyes, switched on her headlamp, and focused her gaze on the arm hanging over the side. Limp, like a soggy noodle or stretched out elastic. Jesus, Graham. Was he dead? She fought the nausea twisting her insides and took a steadying breath. The thud of boots receded then disappeared.
“Graham?” she called. Instead of a reply, all she heard was the continuous moan of the wind as it moved through the cave. “Graham, damn it, answer me.”
Still no reply. Just that flaccid hand seeming to reach out, fingers beckoning for help.
Muscles in her legs quivered with the strain of stopping her fall. Acid in her stomach swelled, trying to force bile into her throat. She forced the sour liquid down. How was she going to get out of the pit? With Graham out of commission, he wouldn’t be able to pull her to the top, and she was not rigged to climb even with steel spiked crampons fixed to her boots. But she had no choice.
Swinging her backpack to the side again, Mia dug deeper into its pockets. Her fingers brushed up against the saw-teeth of a few of the spring-loaded camming devices made to bite into even the smallest fissure. Thank god her oh-so-efficient assistant, Jordyn, hadn’t had time to get her very organized hands on Mia’s things before they flew to Peru from the Ozark Mountains in Arkansas.
Now to find any significant cracks or cuts she could use.
Using her helmet light, Mia scanned the smooth surface of the volcanic rock. Spotting a decent one, she slipped in one of the Camelots and jerked the trigger to expand the cams. After snapping in a draw, she repeated the same steps and, bit by bit, pulled her body to the top. The muscles in her arms joined her legs in quivering at the exertion.
“Guess I need to spend more time on the rock-wall,” she muttered as she reached the lip. Bracing herself to push her aching body over the edge, she heard a soft moan. “Graham? ”
“Hmmm?” he mumbled, obviously in pain.
“Stay with me, partner.” She heaved herself over the side and tugged Graham into her lap.
Her headlamp washed over him as where she smoothed his sweat-dampened hair from his battered face. The wan glow revealed his split skin and swollen lips. Semi-dried blood trailed from the corner of his torn bottom lip to his chin. Droplets on his clothing gleamed in the dim light, flashes of ruby tears.
When she ran her hand down his side, he hissed and jerked. Focusing on his breathing, she noticed the raspy edges. Damn, he had a fractured rib. Maybe two.
“Mia, I’m sorry,” he whispered. One eye cracked open. Remorse and guilt shone in equal measure.
She sighed. “It’s okay, Graham. We’ll talk later.”
Despite the sour feeling in her stomach from the thugs’ attack, she just didn’t have the heart to tear him a new asshole. She’d wait until he healed. The abrasions, broken ribs and the bruises were minor enough. He’d live.
At least until she found out what the hell he’d gotten her into.
***
“What a bastard!”
Hearing such a word from her assistant’s mouth was blasphemy. The petite blonde with sparkling green eyes and sharp-pointed nose dusted with freckles, wrinkled said nose and frowned. Mia hid a smile. Unlike her boss who didn’t shy away from profanity and had quite the repertoire, Jordyn kept her swear words to a minimum.
In this case, her cursing fit since Mia had just told Jordyn what Graham had done. Or at least what Mia thought Graham had done. They stood outside his room in the Nacional Dos de Mayo hospital in Lima. The stark white corridors and the pungent antiseptic smell, standard operating procedures for hospitals everywhere, made her inner child cringe. Just because she had more than an occasional reason to utilize hospital services didn’t mean she had to enjoy being there.
“You should just leave him here, Mia. If he volunteered you for something dangerous, he deserves to suffer. Pull the plug, I say!” Jordyn flung out her hand, her tone rising at the end.
A middle-aged nurse, her shoes squelching on the glossy tiled floor, looked over her glasses and glared at them as she walked by. Mia smiled and winked at the nurse then turned back to her drama queen assistant.
“He’s not on life support, Jordyn. There’s no plug.”
“Couldn’t we get one?”
A chuckle escaped Mia.. “Geez, Jordyn, blood-thirsty, much? Graham’s going to be fine.”
Jordyn tossed her head. “More’s the pity.”
At this point, without knowing the details except he’d somehow gotten them involved with a dangerous organization, Mia agreed with the assessment. “I need to go talk to him.”
Jordyn nodded. “Sure. Want me to stay till you’re done?”
“No, I’ll walk from here and meet you back at the hotel. The Miraflores Park Hotel in the Malecon de la Reserva, right?”
“Yep. That’s it. Room 532. Be careful. Those jerks that attacked you could be watching you in the hospital.”
Mia jerked her head in acceptance even though it was unlikely the Spaniard and his men would be watching to see what she’d do. Since her “new employer” planned to contact her later, she didn’t expect anyone to hang around the hospital. And it was highly likely they’d know where to find her anyway. Black market runners had resources she could only dream of.
Before she could turn away, Jordyn darted at Mia and wrapped her arms around Mia’s waist. She let out a soft oomph and staggered back a slight step, carrying the girl with her before Mia found her balance for both of them. Standing stiffly, arms straight at her side, she looked down at the top of Jordyn’s blonde head. What was this hug all about? In the two years they’d worked together, not once had her assistant hugged her. And she’d been in more danger than this.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Mia,” Jordyn whispered.
Mia had no idea what type of response to give. After an unending second or two, Jordyn disengaged, stepped back and swept her fingers through the mop of tousled blonde curls that defied any attempt at control. Something that disgusted her control freak assistant.
Pink kissed Jordyn’s pale cheeks and her eyes dropped. “See you later.” She turned to leave then whipped around, her embarrassment forgotten. “Want me to have room service fix you something to eat?”
As if making sure Mia didn’t say no, her stomach picked that moment to rumble loudly.
Jordyn giggled. “Guess that means yes,” she said and stormed down the hall.
Lips quirking into a grin, she watched her assistant disappear around the corner. That was Jordyn. Full speed ahead and take no prisoners. Grabbing the room door handle, Mia turned and pushed. The door gave with a quick inward pull that had her half stumbling into the room. Her forward motion came to an abrupt halt when she crashed into a hard shape.
Two hands grabbed her by the shoulders. “Easy. Where’s the fire?”
Helvete, she swore. Shrugging off the man’s grasp, Mia lifted her eyes to meet those of the stone wall she’d run into. Or maybe he ran into her. She supposed it depended on one’s opinion.
Her eyes traveled up. And up. Good lord. The Goliath towered over her five foot seven inch frame. Her gaze ran into a square chin then continued she found his emerald, smiling eyes. He must be about six four, easy.
And not Peruvian. Not even a mestizo. In fact, with his clean cut, long face, and sun-kissed blond curls, he was as far away from Peruvian as a person could get.
An easy smile played on his lips, deep lines creasing the corners of his eyes. Those piercing green irises took her breath away. She’d never seen such a bright color represented in pupils. Had to be contacts. What a damn shame. She didn’t like artifice in any form.
“Miss, are you okay?”
Mr. Gorgeous Eyes backpedaled, and Mia got a good look at him. At his tall frame partially wrapped in a white lab coat that should have made him look boxy and unattractive but didn’t. Hell no. In fact, it stretched across his broad chest in an evocative pull and tug that hinted at a sculpted chest.
Hmm. Her libido kicked into high gear. Anyone want to play doctor?
“My apologies. Are you all right?”
The soft English accent purred over her skin. Yum. Gorgeous and English. A tempting combination, one she had a weakness for.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m Doctor Kincaid.” His head canted to the side. “Are you a relative or friend?”
“I’m—“
A scratchy voice interrupted, “She’s my fiancée.”
Mia flinched, and her brows drew together. Obviously, the beating had dislodged something in his brain. She didn’t recall agreeing to marry him.
“Fiancée?” tall and sexy, asked mimicking the question in her mind.
Mia looked around Dr. Kincaid’s broad shoulders and scowled at Graham. Her partner seemed small in the hospital bed. Diminished. As if the beating, or her understanding of the reason behind it, took something from him. His light brown hair lay in tangled waves over the bandage enveloping the top of his skull. A bruise in lovely shades of red, purple and yellowish-green circled one blood-shot eye.
After a final glare, she forced a smile she didn’t feel and turned back to Dr. Kincaid and offered her hand. “I’m Mia Langdon.”
A gleam of something flashed into his eyes when she said her name. More than that, his gaze seemed to sharpen, turning from languid interest to intense examination. Wonder what he knew about her? She gave a mental shrug and continued, “Graham and I are partners.”
“Ah, partners.” An unspoken questioned hovered behind the smile.
“Business partners,” she clarified. She didn’t want to hurt Graham, especially not until she discovered exactly what he’d done, but she had no intentions of letting him go on thinking she’d agreed to marry him.
As Dr. Kincaid nodded, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. He took her hand, his large warm one engulfing hers in a comforting grasp and held it just a bit longer than was appropriate. She didn’t mind. Not when her libido was running rampant.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Langdon.”
“Mia,” Graham whined. “I need to talk to you.”
Yeah, she bet he did. And she so wanted to talk to him. Ignoring Graham for the moment, she offered the doctor an apologetic smile. “Nice to meet you, Doc. If you’ll excuse me...”
Sidling around him, she went to the bed and stood beside Graham and didn’t watch the handsome doctor leave. The door reopened then closed and Graham relaxed. Putz.
He reached out and took Mia’s hand. Before she could even think about it, she snatched it back. She ignored the flaring of his nostrils and the flash of hurt darkening his eyes. Annoyance rolled in her stomach like a storm-tossed sea.
“Graham, what’s going on?”
His gaze darted from side to side as if he was looking for an out. Fat chance. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I haven’t had a bath in two days and have worn these clothes for both of them. I’m hungry, and I want to go to sleep. What did you do?”
He shrugged. “I’ve, uh, gotten into trouble.” His explanation tripped to a halt.
“Go on.”
“Well. . .” He swallowed hard then let out a nervous chuckle. “Um. I met someone who said they would dissolve my debts if you found something for them.”
Debts? She hadn’t known he had debts as in the kind with a capital D. Letting that slide for a moment, she asked, “Found something?”
She clenched her fists. She did not like the direction this conversation was going. She worked for herself. Not for others. Sure, what she found often ended up in others’ hands, but she found each item first for herself. Then sold them. “What sort of something?”
When he didn’t explain right away, she put a hand on her hip. “Graham, spill it.”
“Sekhmet’s arrows.”
She felt her mouth drop open and closed it with a snap that ground her teeth together. “Sekhmet’s arrows? Did something get dislodged in your brain with that beating?”
Mia spun around, strode to the small window, and looked out over the front entrance of the hospital. Hanging over the parking lot like a soft blanket, the garua, a dense fog, coated vehicles and vegetation with moisture. Between September and March each year, Peru, especially the coastal areas, was blanketed by the clear fog. She’d be in for a soaking by the time she got to the Miraflores.
Mia sighed, her breath misting the glass. Sekhmet’s arrows. Any tomb raider or relic hunter worth their salt knew what the arrows were. Or, they knew of the story. Sekhmet, the Mighty One, a warrior goddess of Egypt, also known as the Eye of Ra, a weapon of vengeance. According to Egyptian mythology, she’d nearly destroyed humanity with her flaming arrows and thirst for human blood. And someone wanted Mia to find them?
“Mia?”
She turned back to face Graham. Her partner, once a man full of vital energy and strength, now seemed so much less. Why hadn’t she ever noticed his soft chin and smallish eyes? And while she still held a soft sentiment for him, if she’d had any doubts about saying no to the marriage proposal, they were gone now.
“No.”
He sat up, face screwed into a wince. “You can’t say no.”
She let out a quick bark of laughter. “Of course, I can. I just did. Find the arrows yourself.”
“They’re offering a lot of money. Enough so you don’t have to sell any more objects. You can retire.”
“I’m not interested in retiring, Graham.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, a sign he was getting frustrated. “Come on, Mia, you know I can’t do this alone. You have an instinct for such things. I need you.”
“That’s too damn bad. The arrows are dangerous. And in the wrong hands, they’re deadly.”
With that, she turned on her heel. At the door, she looked over her shoulder and gentled her tone. “Look, rest up and get better. We’ll talk about money when you get out of the hospital and we return to England. See you later.”
As she stepped through, she heard Graham calling for her to return. He wanted to discuss the offer. Ignoring his entreaty, she headed down the long hallway. Against the tile, her worn boot heels made a soft click-thud. Before she turned the corner, she looked back over her shoulders. The handsome doctor, Kincaid, stood at the nurse’s station. She could feel his sharp gaze boring into her as she walked away. What was with this guy?
She sucked in a deep breath and immediately regretted it. The pungent scents of disinfectants stung the inside of her nose, reminding her of all the reasons she hated hospitals. Even gorgeous doctors weren’t immune from her dislike.
All right, Mia, shake it off. Damn that Graham. This was all his fault. She wasn’t usually this suspicious. Okay, so she was but not so jittery. Graham should know her by now. She might be mercenary. She might be willing to risk life and limb to retrieve some of the relics she did. What she wasn’t willing or mercenary enough to do was go after a blood-thirsty relic from Ancient Egypt that could possibly destroy the human race. Even she had limits.
Her belief and views on things that go bump in the night made her unpopular and often the butt of jokes from the more scientific types. They just didn’t understand. Including one stick-up-his-ass archeologist in particular. She gave her head a mental shake. Christ. That was one path she didn’t want to walk.
At least, not without a boatload of wine and chocolate.