In Too Deep (7 page)

“I thought this was supposed to be a break,” she called out. He glanced up, startled.

“It is.” He sounded distracted. “I'm just looking things over.”

“Find anything?”

He hesitated.

“Rod?”

“Maybe.”

Cara immediately went to his side. “What?”

He bent down to show her the mashed grass and muddy tracks. “Someone's been here recently.”

“Why is that odd? You said there were Lacandones in the area.”

He shook his head. “These weren't left here by the Lacandones.”

He held out his hand. Two bullet casings rested in his palm. A chill swept down Cara's back.

“I don't like it,” he said, his expression grim. “If you're ready, let's finish this inspection and get back to camp. I want you on that plane this afternoon.”

She decided to ignore his reference to the plane for the moment. She was anxious to see the site.

“I'm ready,” she said, noting that he tucked the casings into his pocket. He was obviously hanging onto them as evidence. But of what?

They reached the site after another half hour of hard walking. As he led her quickly over the area, she was thankful for the detailed information in the previous night's briefing. She could see that his choice for the location for the dam was sound.

“Let me take another look at the map,” she said.

He drew it from his back pocket and spread it on a tree stump. “We're right about here,” he told her, pointing to a location well south of Palenque. “The flooding would be farther south. Yaxchilan is here. The ruins there are bound to be affected. Bonampak wouldn't be.”

“Are there archaeologists in either of those places now?”

“I doubt it. There are some working a relatively new site down in here.” He tapped his finger on a dot he'd made farther along the Usumacinta. “They've come from San Cristobal. I had a couple of meetings with them, too, when I first got out here.”

“According to the map, there don't appear to be any roads. Can we get there?”

Rod's jaw set. “Cara, I thought I made myself clear. I want you out of here today.”

“And I thought I made myself clear. I'm not leaving until I have a complete picture of what will be affected if we agree to build this dam. I'm not going to be scared away just because someone fired a gun a couple of times. It could have happened months ago, even years ago.”

“I'm telling you that I'm convinced that someone is very determined that this dam not be built. If I'm right, you're in danger.”

“And you're not?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake, are we going to waste time arguing over male supremacy? I am just as capable of shooting a gun as you are.”

He grinned at that. “But do you have one?”

She refused to meet his smug gaze. “Not with me.” Her chin lifted stubbornly. “But it doesn't matter, because I am staying.”

“You do realize that if I decided to swing you over my shoulder and carry you off to that plane, you would not be able to stop me?”

“I'm aware that you believe that.”

His gaze narrowed. “Don't test me.”

Cara wisely refrained from letting her lips curve into the challenge of a full-fledged grin. “How do we get to the archaeological site?”

“We'd have to take Diablo,” he said with a sly glance in her direction. “There's a dirt road part of the way, but this time of year it's virtually impassable.”

Cara ignored the taunt. “Can we go this afternoon?”

“I thought you didn't want to get anywhere near Diablo.”

“I may not like the idea, but that doesn't mean I won't do it. Now stop procrastinating. When can we leave?”

Rod scowled and muttered a frustrated oath. “We'll decide after we get back to camp. I want to try to meet that plane you're convinced will be coming back for you. Maybe the pilot will stick around a day or two in case we need to get you out of here in a hurry.”

She thought of the greedy glint in Carlos's black eyes. “For the right price, Carlos will probably sell you the plane.”

They were almost back at the camp before Cara said anything more. She studied the hard, angry lines of Rod's profile. He was clearly still seething over her decision to stay. At first she'd assumed it was nothing more than damaged pride, irritation over her interference in his work. Now she wasn't so sure. There had seemed to be a note of genuine concern in his voice when they'd argued at the site.

“Rod?”

“Yes.”

“Do you really think we're in any danger? We're just a couple of engineers. Why would anyone want to hurt us?”

“We represent change. Maybe they just don't like our looks. Hell, I don't know. But I've had a bad feeling about this project from the day I arrived, and it's not getting any better.”

With anyone else she might have written that feeling off to squeamishness, but that was hardly Rod's personality. Nor did he seem an alarmist. If anything, he was the type to understate danger, the sort of man who relished living on the edge, but knew exactly when to back away. For the first time, a feeling of anxiety settled at the base of her spine. Her senses became more alert to every whisper of sound, every movement. She thought she was prepared for anything.

She was wrong. She wasn't ready for the sight of Diablo lying on the ground in a pool of blood, a bullet through his head.

R
od was sitting by the river wondering why Cara got under his skin so, when her terrified scream shattered the silence. The sound made his blood run cold. Cursing expressively, he drew his gun and charged through the undergrowth in back of his camp. He set off in the direction she had taken when she'd asserted a need for a moment of privacy before going on to the airstrip. For the first time in his life, he hated living under such primitive conditions. If the lack of something as basic as indoor plumbing had put her in danger, he'd never forgive himself. He never should have let her go alone, decorum or no.

He crashed through the bush, his heart thundering in his chest. “Cara! Where the hell are you? Cara!” The fact that there had been no second scream nearly panicked him. The silence was almost as frightening as the bloodcurdling pitch of her first agonized cry.

“Cara!”

“Over here.” Though her tear-choked voice was barely above a frightened whisper, relief swept through him when he heard it.

Following the sound of her muffled sobs, he found her standing over Diablo's body. Bile rose in his throat at the sight of the fallen donkey. Pale and trembling, Cara was staring down at it. His hand shaking, he tilted her chin up and looked into stricken eyes.

“Are you okay?” He stroked her cheek, wiping away the tears.

She gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Don't move. I just want to look around for a minute. Okay?”

Panic flitted across her face, but then she seemed to pull herself together. It was an act of sheer bravado, probably meant as much for herself as for him. “Okay,” she murmured.

His heart still hammering, Rod searched the surrounding area quickly, but found nothing else amiss. When he returned, Cara was standing frozen, exactly as he'd left her. An incomparable feeling of protectiveness swept through him as he gently drew her into his arms and turned her head away.

A heavy sigh shuddered through her as she clung to him. The flames of desire sparked to life, startling him with their brightness. He wanted her here and now with a force that rocked him. The emotions that accompanied the desire were less straightforward. Perhaps he was a sucker for vulnerability after all. Or, more likely, for soft breasts, trembling lips and hair that smelled like sunshine. He tried hard to tell himself that he owed it to both of them to sort out the feelings before he made love to her, but right now an examination of his psyche was the last thing on his mind.

“Why?” she murmured, her tears dampening his shirt. “Why would anyone do that?”

She gazed up at him, eyes shimmering, her expression woebegone. Rod's heart constricted painfully. His hands, trembling at the restraint, caressed her back in an innocent touch of comfort.

“It's another warning,” he told her. “We have to get you out of here.”

To his amazement, she resisted. “No. Absolutely not. I am not going to be frightened away by someone that cowardly.”

“Cowardly?”

“Killing a poor defenseless animal is cowardly. I'd like to get my hands on the person who did it. I'd show you just how well I can handle that gun of yours.”

“I appreciate your desire to avenge Diablo's death,” he said, somehow impressed by the vehement indignation and outrage in her voice. Still, he knew her well enough now to recognize that they were headed for an argument. “I'd rather you used your head and took the hint. This is no place for you to be hanging around.”

Reluctantly, he released her, wondering if there would be other opportunities for them to explore this growing awareness between them. Unable to look at her without wanting her, he turned toward the camp. “I'm getting your things and we're going to meet that plane,” he stated decisively.

Cara didn't follow. It figured. When he looked back, she was standing right where he'd left her. She visibly dug in her heels. Her eyes flashed dangerous sparks. “I'm not going,” she announced.

Rod's patience snapped like a fragile glass figurine. “Dammit, woman, will you stop thinking with your calculator? I don't care how much WHS stands to make on this project, it's not worth dying for. You know damn well Scottie would agree with me. He'd insist you leave, and he'd never forgive me for allowing you to stay.”

He thought he saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes, but it was gone before he could be sure.

“Are you staying?” she asked.

“A few more days, just till I wrap things up. If it'll make you feel any better, you can wait for me in Palenque. It should be safe enough there.”

She shook her head. “I'm staying. I want to talk to those archaeologists.”

“Talk to the archaeologists in Palenque. The arguments will be the same.”

“I want to see the ruins,” she insisted stubbornly.

Her defiance and apparent lack of fear awed him, even as it exasperated the hell out of him. “Exactly how do you propose we get to them now that Diablo is dead?”

“We'll hike. It'll just take a little longer.”

“It will take days, and I'll be damned if I'll waste that kind of time on a fool's mission.”

Instantly, her expression turned glacial and her words were edged with ice. “Are you calling me a fool?”

The question was meant to intimidate, and he could imagine that many a man had backed down under that frosty gaze. He matched her scowl for scowl. “If you persist in this crazy idea of trekking off to chat with the archaeologists, yes.”

“Fine,” she snapped right back at him. “You think it's unnecessary, then you can stay here. I'll go alone.”

Taken aback by the glint of determination in her eyes, he simply stared at her. He didn't doubt for one minute that she meant exactly what she said. She
would
go alone. Stubborn pride, if for no other reason, would cause her to stalk out of here, knowing full well that it was risky. The woman was maddening. No wonder Scottie was in the hospital. Twelve years of this would give any man palpitations.

Frustration twisted his insides into knots. If he'd been a lesser man, he might have strangled her on the spot. As it was, the temptation to turn her over his knee was almost too overwhelming to ignore. How had Scottie put up with this rebellious stubbornness?

Suddenly, Rod was struck by the urge to laugh at the image of his boss as the victim of his daughter's temper. Scottie was no victim. Hell, he'd probably encouraged that fiercely stubborn streak. Right now in fact, Scottie was probably sitting in his hospital bed howling with glee as he imagined his beloved Cara down here shaking the daylights out of Rod's equilibrium.

“Your father knew, didn't he?” he muttered, jamming his hands into his pockets and glaring at her.

She regarded him with a puzzled expression. “Knew what?”

“He knew you'd drive me crazy. He's still mad at me for taking him for all that money last time we played poker.”

A delighted smile tugged at Cara's lips. He suddenly wanted desperately to kiss that smile away, to plunder her lips until they were swollen and pouting and begging for more. He wanted to leave her so breathless she'd forget all about taking off on her own. My God, she truly was driving him insane!

“I drive you crazy?” she repeated, her eyes lighting up in impish amusement. “How amazing.”

“You don't have to sound so thrilled about it.”

“Hey, I would have settled for respect, but since you seem to be reluctant to bestow that, I'll take driving you crazy. At least it means you're hearing me.”

“Oh, I'm hearing you loud and clear, and I don't like it one bit.” His own voice began to rise. With great restraint he lowered it to what he hoped would be a threatening growl. “Now maybe you'd like to listen to me. You will be on that plane this afternoon if I have to tie you to the seat.”

“You and whose army?” she inquired curiously.

“Dammit, woman!”

“You swear entirely too much.”

He rubbed his head, which was beginning to pound like the very devil. “Especially since you arrived,” he conceded. “Now I am going inside for your things, and I expect you to be ready to leave when I come out.”

He didn't wait for another argument. She could fight him on this all the way to the airstrip, but she was flying out of here today. Sabotaging the radio and ransacking the campsite were nuisances, but shooting Diablo had been the act of someone who was deadly serious.