Chapter 2

Cara Woodward swattedat a mosquito and made a "note to self" to break out the repellant. Yes, it was barely spring, but the humidity was high, and the temperatures were forecasted to reach the low 90s in the next few days. Just one of the many reasons the university liked to dig winter to spring rather than wait for the scorching hot summers when most students were free.

It was also nearing six PM, which meant Roy and the archeologists from The University of Mexico would be heading back to camp. She turned toward the camp's mess tent to make sure Cookie had a warm dinner ready.

Cookie had been an unexpected blessing this dig season—a new hire who had blended well with the crew from day one. An attractive blonde with short, spiked hair, her brusque personality and ready smile had been a reassuring presence. There wasn't anything she couldn't tackle, and her cooking skills, easily adapting to local produce, had assured everyone stayed well-fed. The fact she was ex-Army like Cara had given them an instant connection.

Tonight, Cookie was dressed in a white tank that bared her rather muscular arms and frayed jeans shorts. She gave Cara a two-finger salute and a smile as she approached. "Dinner's almost ready. Chicken and rice—and I made a homemade red pepper salsa for the guys since they've been complaining about the lack of heat."

Cara sniffed. "It smells wonderful. How are we doing on supplies? We'll be making a run into Cuidad de Ma'ax for supplies and fuel for the generators tomorrow."

"I'll make you a list—mostly produce since it doesn't keep well. Since I'm feeding fewer people now, I'm flush with almost everything else. Do you have any news about when we're going to pack it in?"

"I'm hoping Roy will be able to nail down a teardown date tonight."

Cookie wrinkled her nose. "Good luck with that. He's pretty pissed the university pulled the plug early. Nothing like a kidnapping to spoil the party."

"I just hope Duncan's okay."

"And not really missing a finger," Cookie said, her face screwing into a grimace.

They shared a glance. "It was a good thing you noticed the freezer burn on the thumb," Cara said. "I couldn't have said for sure whether it was from Duncan's hand or not, even though the skin appeared darker."

Cookie gave an exaggerated shiver. "I had a hard enough time looking at the mummy they pulled from the dig. Looking at something that wasn't dried up like leather… It gave me the willies."

"You got all the help you need?" Cara asked, looking beyond Cookie to the back of the tent where the sides were rolled up and the portable stoves were presently being manned by the local help Cara had hired.

"More than enough. If you need to let one or two go… I don't need as many since we're no longer doing food prep for a full team."

Cara shook her head. "I promised the local mayor I'd hire them through the duration of the dig. I've already promised to extend payment by two weeks since we're closing early for the season. I want to keep everyone happy with us for the next season when we descend again."

"Just remember me next time you're looking for a cook—it doesn't matter where we go. I've rarely worked for a site manager as well-organized as you. It's been a pleasure. I can concentrate on cooking the food rather than foraging for it."

Cara gave Cookie a fist bump. "You're top of my list. All that prior military experience working in a mess hall has really helped make this seamless after our last cook retired."

"Just remember, I haven't just worked in brick-and-mortar mess halls—I've got field experience, too—situations more challenging than this tent."

"I haven't forgotten—and you've proven very adaptable."

In the distance, an engine sounded, but it was coming from the opposite direction from where the dig team would be coming.

"What now?" she muttered and headed toward the motor pool—which was no more than the flattest, unforested spot on the edge of the camp. They'd erected a makeshift fence around the motor pool with cleaned cans from the mess tent hanging from the wire to alert the camp to anyone looking to steal parts or an entire vehicle, which had happened the previous year.

A jeep pulled up to the gate, and the driver rapped the horn once.

The jeep's poorly painted camo pattern meant their visitor was Gino Acevedo, the local man of all trades with whom Cara met when she needed manpower or materials.

Cookie kept pace with Cara as they moved toward the gate where the jeep stopped.

Gino stepped down with a huge grin on his face. "I have a surprise for you, Se?ora Woodward."

The passenger side door that faced away slammed. A tall figure appeared and circled the front of the vehicle. It was a man—a rather tall, well-built man. As he neared, Cara's breath caught. Lord have mercy, the man was handsome.

His mouth moved into a tight line before stretching into a half-smile as he drew closer. Then, before she had a chance to wonder why he was moving in so close, he reached out, gripped her shoulders, and kissed her.

Ty barely hadtime to note that Cara was a very attractive woman before he made his move. She appeared to be in shock. Her eyes widened as he pressed a light kiss against her mouth. Damn Bradon. He hadn't called to warn her.

He put his arms around her and hugged her to his chest. Then he bent toward her ear. "Play along," he whispered.

Her head jerked back, and her eyes narrowed as she searched his face.

"I know I shouldn't have sprung this on you," he said louder for the benefit of anyone watching. "But I knew you'd be short-handed, and Bradon got me set up on a flight to come down and help with the teardown."

He moved back but kept his arm slung around her waist as he turned to greet the other female, who was tanned with spiked, platinum-blond hair. He reached out his free hand, "I'm Ty Quigley, a friend of Cara's," he said, giving extra emphasis to the word friend.

The woman grinned widely as she gave Ty a handshake that would've caused a lesser man to wince. "Nice to meet you. Everyone calls me Cookie. Cara never mentioned she had a hunk like you at home."

Cara wriggled inside his embrace, but he clapped his hand on her hip to keep her leaning against his body. He had to sell this with or without her cooperation. "She's probably still a little pissed at me after the last time we spoke. I had some time off from work and thought I'd better come down here to mend some fences if you know what I mean."

"Well, that's some gesture," Cookie said. "If it doesn't work out…" She waggled her eyebrows and then gave a gust of laughter. "Any chance you have a brother…?"

"I do. Bradon is a good friend of Cara's. He introduced us."

"If he looks anything like you…"

Ty merely smiled. His brother was tall but rather thin and wore glasses. He looked like exactly what he was—a college professor.

Cara's hand pushed on the one anchoring her hip. He let her go, and she quickly backed up a step. Her dark frown was…delightful.

She opened her mouth, but he quickly pressed a finger against her mouth. "I know. I was a jerk. Let's go somewhere and talk."

She blinked, then leaned her head back to escape his finger. "Fine." She swallowed, forced a smile, and turned to Gino, who'd been surprisingly helpful. Bradon had notified him to meet him and Gunn at the small airport outside Ma'ax. Ty had already paid him for the ride from the cash Booker had handed him after they'd landed.

Ty hooked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing toward the jeep. "I have luggage. Where's your tent?"

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Let me just stow it in your tent. Then we'll talk. If I'm still in the doghouse after I grovel, we can find another place for me to sleep."

Her lips pressed together, but she gave him a stiff nod. "Fine. Follow me." She stepped out and then turned back to Gino. "Cookie has dinner ready. Would you like to stay to eat?"

Gino's smile showed every one of his impossibly white teeth. "Gracias, Se?ora."

Cookie gave Ty and Cara one more assessing stare and then turned to Gino. "I hope you like arroz con pollo. I made it Puerto Rican-style with sofrito and garnished it with cilantro."

"I'm sure it will be delicioso, Se?ora."

When they were out of hearing distance, Ty turned to Cara. "I'll get my bags." He returned to the jeep and reached into the back, pulling out his duffle of clothing and the locked hard plastic footlocker of tech Gunn had packed. Balancing the locker on one shoulder and carrying the bag in the opposite hand, he turned back to Cara, who was already marching through the camp.

"Way to make a great first impression," he muttered under his breath.

She led him to a tent on the southern side of the small camp. It was a small military-style hex tent with the canvas door rolled up to let light inside. There was only one cot, but there was room for another, given that the only other item of furniture inside the tent was a footlocker.

He placed his bag and the box on the tarp floor, then straightened to face her.

She stood with both hands braced on her hips. "Are you really Bradon's brother?"

He nodded and stepped closer. "He was concerned," he said, lowering his voice.

She rolled her eyes. "You're the SEAL," she whispered harshly. "Did he really think I needed a SEAL—right here in the middle of the jungle?"

"He's worried about you and the rest of your crew—what with the kidnapping…"

"That's being handled. It's the price of doing business in this part of the world."

"He said the cartel hasn't kidnapped anyone from your teams before."

"They're new in the area. They're simply flexing their muscle. I'm sure after this gets sorted out, we'll reach a mutually beneficial agreement so that this kind of thing doesn't disrupt our work again."

Ty grunted. "You mean, you'll offer them bribes."

"We pay bribes to everyone—the local mayor, who assigned Gino as our go-between. He's a very valuable resource. We pay bribes to the local farmers so that they give us their premium produce. We pay bribes to the police to make sure our people aren't harassed when they have to venture into town."

"But it could've been you taken—your thumb removed to make their point."

She huffed a breath. "That wasn't Duncan's thumb. It was likely from an already dead person, purchased from a morgue. It was the wrong color skin, and there was evidence of freezer burn."

"Well, so it wasn't a big deal. No worries there," he said, letting his sarcasm bleed through.

"Look," she said, stepping closer still. "I don't need you here. I invited Gino to stay so you can grab a ride right back into town with him."

He leaned close enough he could've kissed her again if she swayed his direction. "Look. I'm staying. We're boyfriend and girlfriend. I'm sleeping in this tent." He added that last, even though it wasn't really required, but now, he was enjoying pushing her buttons, so he pushed harder. "We can be on the outs when we're around others, but as far as they're concerned, we can't keep our hands off each other when we're alone—in here. I'm here as your bodyguard, but I have security equipment I'm going to install to keep an eye on the site and try to keep down pilferage or see if anyone comes into the camp we should be worried about."

Her eyebrows lowered into a dark but cute scowl. "I'll call Bradon and tell him to have the university cancel your contract."

"The university isn't paying for my services."

"Then who is?"

"The Brotherhood Protectors—the West Yellowstone office."

Her shoulders rose and fell, and her cheeks grew redder. "This is ridiculous. I do not need a bodyguard."

"Lady, you're living in the middle of the jungle. Hell, if you're not being stalked by the cartel, what's to say a jaguar won't come trotting through your camp?"

Her gaze swung away, and her mouth pursed.

"You had a jaguar in your camp?"

She shrugged. "Cookie banged some metal trash can lids, and it ran away."

He shook his head. "You need a keeper."

She drew in a deep breath that lifted her chest. "If you're going to stay, you'll extend your services to the rest of our crew."

He narrowed his eyes, pretending annoyance, but he had her. She was caving. "I'll roam the camp during the day and keep an eye on things. And like I said, I'll install some surveillance equipment, too."

"You'll report directly to me."

He nodded slowly. "I'll update my HQ as needed."

"If you're going to stay in this tent, I'll expect you to keep your side tidy."

"My side?" He glanced around. The only free space there'd be once he put a cot opposite hers would be the entryway.

"You'll have to pick up after yourself."

He nodded. "I don't want to be clotheslined by your panties hanging on a wire." Maybe he'd gone a little too far, but he'd been enjoying their little "negotiation."

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "I'll be sure to hang them up in the doorway."

He grunted again. "Anything else?"

"You will not kiss me again."

He rubbed his chin. "Might seem a little weird to everyone, seeing as how I'm your boyfriend."

She rolled her eyes. "I won't mind if your gaze follows me around like a puppy dog's. They'll all feel sorry for me by the time this is over because they'll peg you as a stalker."

"You're funny."

She planted her hands on her hips. "You're a pain in the ass I really don't need."

"Maybe we should practice kissing so we know which way to lean."

Her mouth opened and closed like a guppy's. Finally, she blinked. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're hot—but I'm a professional, and I'll keep my hands mostly to myself."

"Mostly?"

"Yeah, we have to sell our romance," he said, shrugging with fake indifference.

She balled her hands into fists and growled. Then she stalked out of the tent.

He followed because that was what he was being paid to do. It didn't hurt that she was turned away because now he could look his fill of her curvy backside. The way her long, dirty-blond ponytail swished behind her head reminded him of a horse he'd ridden while stationed at Pendleton—a plucky, high-stepping mare that had liked to trot into the middle of briars because the rider would be left with cuts and scrapes.

He wondered if his brother had ever seen this side of her or if she was professional and polished when on campus. He also wondered if they'd ever dated. The thought didn't sit well, but Ty wasn't going to examine why. They were approaching the mess tent, which was lighting up now that the generator was humming in the distance.

He rubbed his hands together. Time to sell their love story.