First You Run (7 page)

“No, I’m on my own time. Where did you stay?”

“Can’t recall. Are you independent, or do you work for a firm?”

Fletch resisted the urge to smile. “I work for a firm.” He paused and waited for Blake to make the next move.

“What’s the name of the firm?”

“It’s a private organization. Out of New York.” He inched to the side when he lost sight of Miranda. “If you’ll excuse me—”

Blake stepped in front of Fletch and blocked him. “The firm you work for? I bet I’ve used them.”

For a moment, they stared at each other, Blake’s eyes revealing that he was enjoying their verbal chess game. “I know you haven’t, Mr. Blake. I’ve already checked.”

The other man blinked in surprise, or in response to the ding of a fork against crystal.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Doña Taliña’s soft voice was amplified by a tiny microphone and distributed by invisible speakers everywhere. “It is my honor and privilege to introduce you to a brilliant anthropologist, a talented writer, and a brave woman on a mission to rewrite history.”

Rewrite history? Is that what Miranda was doing with her book? He nodded goodbye to Blake, then snaked through the crowd to get closer to her.

There was admiration in Taliña’s voice as she spoke of Miranda’s findings and her writing. Miranda appeared suitably humble and yet proud—and damn near edible in her slinky silver dress. He caught her gaze and held it, and attraction tightened his gut.

Attraction so strong and mutual, maybe she wouldn’t hate him too much for what he was about to do. And he’d make the process fun.

“Please come forth,” Taliña finished, “and have Miranda sign your book.”

She wasn’t going to have Miranda speak?

Miranda looked a little taken aback, but she covered it and graciously took a seat as guests began to approach her. She glowed while talking to each one, smiling and listening to their stories, handling the oversight so gracefully that no one could have realized her disappointment.

“As I said, nothing as sexy as a woman in her element.” Victor Blake held a fresh goblet of wine as he neared Fletch but watched Miranda.

“I believe you said intoxicating.”

“Sex is intoxicating,” he shot back. “Don’t you think?”

Fletch merely gave him a tight smile and returned his focus to Miranda, vigilant for any sudden movement or threat. But the only person who felt threatening was the man standing next to him, staring at her in a way that put Fletch on high alert. His study of Miranda wasn’t sexual, nor was it fond, amused, or curious.

It was resentful.

Victor Blake was jealous of the attention his wife was showering on Miranda. As if on cue, Taliña put her hand on Miranda’s shoulder, a move she’d done so many times that Fletch had stopped responding with a twitch toward his weapon. She was a toucher, and since he didn’t sense hostility, he hadn’t made an effort to stop her.

But hostility came off Blake in waves. His jaw clenched as he watched Taliña rub Miranda’s shoulder, then stroke her hair in a way that was more proud than affectionate. Certainly not the kind of contact that would make a man jealous.

Was it?

Blake’s body language suddenly changed, relaxing as he lifted his drink.

“Excuse me,” he told Fletch. “I see a guest I’ve yet to greet.”

Blake disappeared into the crowd as Fletch watched Miranda continue to sign books and chat with the endless stream of guests. Circling the perimeter of the vast patio, he checked for any familiar faces from the night before and noticed that Victor Blake had disappeared.

The last book signed, Miranda turned as she lifted a goblet of wine to her mouth and caught Fletch’s gaze. He crossed the few feet that separated them, enjoying the flush that darkened her neck and throat as he neared her.

“So tell me, do you write the same thing in every book, or do you personalize?” he asked.

She took a sip of wine, then smiled. “I try to personalize.” She shook her hand. “But my fingers ache.”

He lifted her hand to his lips. “I can fix that.” He kissed her knuckles and dipped closer. “You’ve done an awful lot of smiling and chatting, luv. Do your lips ache, too?”

She laughed. “Terribly.”

Just as he leaned in for a kiss, Taliña interrupted. “You must see Pakal’s Crypt.” Her dark eyes blazed. “Almost everyone is gone, and I’m taking a small group on a private tour of my newest creation, my pride and joy.”

“Pakal’s Funerary Crypt?” Miranda asked. “It’s one of the most amazing places on earth,” she told Fletch. “Discovered in the 1950s. The carvings on the sarcophagus lid are some of the most beautiful ever found.”

“Not to mention the stucco relief of the Nine Lords of the Night,” Taliña added, scooping her arm through Miranda’s.

“I did a graduate thesis on that relief,” Miranda exclaimed, setting down her wine glass and not noticing Talíña’s knowing expression. “I can’t wait to see how you’ve replicated it.”

“Then let’s go,” Fletch said. “I feel I haven’t lived until I’ve seen this place.”

Taliña shook her head. “I’m sorry. I would be delighted to take you tomorrow, but this viewing is for Miranda only.”

“That’s a very small group, indeed,” he said smoothly. “Perhaps she’d rather wait until tomorrow, as well.”

“Mr. Fletcher,” Taliña said, “I’m delighted that you were able to accompany my guest to our home, but I’m sure you understand that we would like some private time together. I simply want to share the mystical, magical experience of seeing Pakal’s Crypt with someone who deeply understands what it means in the scheme of Maya history.”

He turned to Miranda, who’d been quiet during the exchange. “I’d like to go,” he said simply, hoping she understood the silent message.
For your safety
.

“Adrien.” She took his arm and gently guided him aside, as Taliña walked away, pretending to say goodbye to another guest. But he had no doubt she was listening. “I understand why she wants to spend some time alone with me. You weren’t expected. There’s no reason I can’t go to this building with her.”

“Except that someone threatened you with a dead quetzal last night.”

She paled. “Not Taliña. I won’t be gone even a half-hour. Then…” The unspoken promise hung between them. They would be together for the night. She squeezed his hand. “She’s done so much for me. I don’t want to insult her.”

He relented with a nod. Though he wasn’t about to let her trek into the jungle alone, she didn’t have to know that. “Have fun, then.” He planted a kiss on her hair.

Taliña was instantly at Miranda’s side. “Let’s start at the Temple of the Sun.” She indicated one of the two smaller pyramid structures about a hundred yards away. “I have something to show you there first.”

Fletch waited patiently as the two women climbed the huge set of stairs to the temple, by the light of Taliña’s small flashlight. Then he started in the same direction.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” Victor Blake closed his hand on Fletch’s arm, only to have it instantly shaken off. “Men are not welcome.”

Fletch frowned. “Why is that?”

“Taliña runs an informal program to train women in shamanism.” Blake said, his voice devoid of the jealousy Fletch had sensed earlier. “I’m certain she’s showing some of her techniques to Miranda, and she really doesn’t like it when men spoil the process. Don’t worry. They’ll be back.”

“Then I’ll just look around at some of the sights,” Fletch replied, completely unconcerned if Blake knew he was lying.

“Trust me,” Blake said with a lecherous gleam in his eye. “You’ll reap the benefits later.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

“Have a drink and relax.” Blake tried to force another goblet of wine into Fletch’s hands. “This is standard procedure around here.”

Not standard for me.
He waved off the glass and darted toward the pyramid, swearing silently when he realized the women had disappeared.

They couldn’t have gone far. He jogged up to the structure, a much smaller version of the palace house. At the top of the stairs, an area was empty but for three stone statues with classic Maya faces staring back at him.

He crossed the stone floor to see the property beyond, a black maze of shadows and foliage in the dark. None of the party lights illuminated that area, and no flashlight moved with the rhythm of someone walking. A very bad feeling settled in his chest.

He paused at the top of the back stairs, listening for sounds, for a familiar voice, but he heard only laughter and soft music from the few remaining guests in the courtyard. She said they’d start there. Had they gone to the other large temple a few hundred yards to the north?

He headed to the structure tucked even deeper into the thick shrubbery and trees. What had she called this one? The most perfect of all Maya buildings. He jogged up the wide stairs.

The flat top of the pyramid was one large, enclosed room, open only in the front, facing the steps. Turquoise, gold, and stone reliefs decorated every surface, along with more symbols and hieroglyphs on the walls. Pivoting to see every shadow and corner, he called Miranda’s name. No response.

He glanced over his shoulder back at the courtyard, far enough away so that the party sounds barely drifted up. He moved to the centerpiece of the room, a massive stone sculpture of a jaguar, its jaws wide open, front paws reaching six feet in the air. Between the statue’s back legs, a simple clay container held a lit candle.

Next to that lay the mirror trimmed in gaudy yellow jewels.

Fletch swore under his breath. She’d been here. Recently enough to light a candle that had hardly formed a pool of wax and to drop off her magic mirror. He headed back to the arched entrance, then stopped as the sound of his footsteps changed.

He went back. And forward. The ground under his feet was hollow. Curious, he walked the room, tapping his shoe and determining where the hollow points were. Was there an entrance to some sort of basement? In the shadows, he studied the base of the statue. It was wood and appeared to be bolted into the ground by four screws. Four loose screws.

With two hands, he pushed the statue. It moved easily to the left, revealing an opening under the base. In the darkness, he could make out a set of stairs descending into the hole.

Grabbing the candle, automatically drawing his Glock, he took the first few steps into the blackness. It was colder down there, and damp. When he reached the bottom, he held up the candle and peered into the darkness.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, his jaw loosening at the sight.

There had to be ten thousand copies of Miranda’s book neatly stacked in ten-foot-high rows, towers and towers of glossy white with stylized red type.

This was not a fan. This was a fanatic.

This was
crazy
.

He returned up the steps and pulled himself through the opening. The room was still empty and dark. He grabbed the mirror and ran to find Miranda, his weapon still drawn, his every instinct on fire.

T
ALIÑA KEPT THE
flashlight low so she could follow the path and guide Miranda deeper into the rain forest, but no one looking down from the temple could see them. Soon she would need no light at all, except the light she made from her own
kyopa
.

She shivered in anticipation. Miranda would understand. Miranda would help it happen. Miranda was a sister shaman; Taliña could feel the connection the moment they’d met. It thrilled her.

“I thought your paper on the Nine Lords was brilliant,” Taliña said as they neared the turn to the crypt.

“You read it?” Miranda asked with surprise.

“It’s on the Internet, and you incorporated some large chunks in the book. Of course I read it.”

“That’s…very flattering.”

“I’m a student of the Maya, Miranda. You are a teacher. It’s natural that I would read your work in preparation for this visit.” She put her hand on Miranda’s back and led her around the eucalyptus tree that marked the spot where the path veered off. “And now I’d like to switch those roles and teach you some shamanism.”

Miranda laughed softly. “I don’t think I’d make much of a shaman, Taliña, but I’d love to see the—oh, look at that. It’s
incredible
.”

It was, indeed. The latest structure to be built on Canopy was truly a masterpiece. Taliña had supervised the laying of every stone, the master carving of the ten-foot-high walls and the fifteen-foot-long chamber inside. Unlike the ginger-colored clay of the rest of the structures on Canopy, the crypt was jade green and so full of that very polished stone that the energy inside was palpable.

“Come,” she said, pulling Miranda toward the six stone steps that led to a narrow opening not even wide enough for them to pass side-by-side. “We wanted it to be a perfect replica, so you have to maneuver a bit to get in.”

She shimmied into the opening and took Miranda’s hand to lead her through. Inside, she shone her light directly on the gorgeous carved slab that covered most of the floor. Her gaze was on Miranda.

“Oh, Taliña,” she exclaimed, dropping immediately to her knees to touch the work of art. “It’s absolutely stunning.”

“It is, I agree. And look.” She shifted the beam of light to the walls. A five-foot-tall mosaic mask of pure jade, much bigger than the one in her home, hung on the flat wall at the opposite end of the long crypt.

Miranda crossed the sarcophagus slab on the floor to admire it. “Wonderful,” she whispered, touching it and turning to Taliña. “You should give classes here. You should open this up to the public. It’s such an incredible place to drink in the history and culture.”

Taliña tilted her head in acknowledgment. “Then let me start now. Sit here, across from me.” As Miranda sat, Taliña flicked off the flashlight. “I will teach you how to summon the
kyopa.”

“Taliña.” Miranda said suddenly. “Please turn the light back on.”

She did. “What’s the matter?”

Even in the dimness, she could see Miranda had paled as she rose to her knees. “I hate small, dark places. Please leave the flashlight on.”

“That will defeat the purpose of creating our own light. You’ve heard of the energy light, haven’t you? A light no bigger than your fist that hovers over the room, created by mystical energy?”

Miranda frowned. “Yes, but I thought it was folklore.”

“You thought wrong.” She managed to keep the insult out of her voice. Miranda sounded like Victor. “We’ll leave the light on until we get closer. There, now. Sit back down.”

As Miranda did, Taliña slipped the
toli
from the deep pocket in her tunic. “This one is smaller but just as effective,” she said, angling it to capture Miranda’s spirit in the glass. For a moment, she said nothing, studying the lovely face she saw, although she could see shadows under her eyes and the strain of worry.

“I see it again,” she said quietly. “Someone wants to hurt you, my dear. Someone is going to hurt you very much.”

A soft sigh was the only response.

Taliña closed her eyes, wanting to turn off the flashlight but not wanting to scare Miranda when what she had to say was so important. “Miranda,” she whispered, “you must listen to me. He wants to take your soul.”

“What? Who?”

“That Australian man. He wants to steal your soul. You must protect you soul,” she hissed.

Miranda laughed, obviously not wanting to believe what was so clear and compelling. “He might want my body, Taliña, but he’s not out for the soul. You’re misreading something.”

Fury rumbled through her, down to the cold slab under her. “Listen to me. He is not with you by chance or accident. I know that.”

“He’s with me because I asked him to be,” Miranda said, a note of defensiveness in her voice. “I think you’re seeing more into this than there is.”

Taliña shook her head. “The
toli
is never wrong. He wants something you have. He will ruin your life. Ruin it.” She spat out the last two words. “If you give him anything, be sure it is only your flesh and not your soul. Not your
life.”

“Honestly, I just met him last night. He was at my book signing.”

Taliña merely arched her brows. “And you think this was an accident?”

“I think it was”—she took long enough to answer that Taliña knew she’d sown doubt—“good fortune that I met him.”

“It was fortune. I just don’t know if it was good.” She changed the angle of the mirror. “Let me show you the light now.”

Miranda nodded slowly. “How?”

Taliña inhaled deeply, a cleansing, spiritual breath that allowed her to taste the wind and smell the bits of moss that grew inside the almost completely enclosed crypt. She sat very still, silent and calm, her eyes closed, her body ready.

She touched the flashlight, and darkness descended.

“Please, Taliña. The light.”

“Do not fear,” Taliña assured her. She looked into the darkness, willing the light, demanding it, moving closer to Miranda so that their crossed knees could touch.

“All right,” Miranda said, resigned. “Just…make it fast.”

She would make it however she liked. “You wear a coat of armor around your energy sources, Miranda. You have closed up access to your most vulnerable places.” She tightened her grip on Miranda’s knees, feeling the muscles tighten in response. “Relax. You are shielding yourself. Until you let that go, you cannot draw people to you and hold them. I’m going to teach you how.”

Miranda took a slow, shuddering breath. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take your shields away. You will spark with strength and confidence, inner beauty, and magnetism.” She would spark with something else, too, but Taliña knew better than to warn her student of the aphrodisiac effects of the
kyopa
. “I will call the light and it will fill you with
jing
and
shen
. These are the most powerful of spiritual and sexual energy. When the light appears, you will feel the storm inside you.”

“I’m going to feel some kind of storm if you don’t turn on the light.”

She ignored Miranda’s tense joke, gently stroking the skin of her knees. Then Taliña began the chant. Time ceased. Heat rose. The storm slowly brewed.

“What will happen, my friend, is that you capture the lightning in a short and pleasurable trance. For one moment, Miranda, you will feel helpless. Don’t fear that.”

She felt Miranda stiffen ever so slightly.

“Breathe,” Taliña ordered as she slowly slid her hands to Miranda’s bare arms, the energy already emanating off her skin. “
Kyopa
is your most vital bodily force. It flows through you constantly, like your blood, and when you feel it shimmer and dance over and under your skin, you will feel the first bolt of sheet lightning in your body. Don’t fear that,” she repeated. “It doesn’t last long, but it is unforgettable.”

As her mother had taught her, and her grandmother, and her great grandmother, Taliña softly hummed, transferring power and energy as effectively as if she had been pouring her blood into Miranda’s veins.

“This is known as the speaking of the blood,” she said softly. “Your body’s life source will begin to come alive, and all of your senses will be heightened, as vivid as if you had taken a mind-altering drug. But this is natural. This is beautiful. This is womanly.”

Then it appeared. Blue and beautiful, but dim. The light shone over Miranda’s shoulders, filling Taliña with joy. She knew she could do this.

“Look,” she whispered, leaning closer. “The
kyopa
shimmers.”

Miranda turned. “I don’t see anything and…” She stood, breaking the contact like someone snapping a live wire. “I have to get out of the dark.”

Taliña grabbed her leg. “Stay.”

“No!” Miranda pushed by her to the opening. “I have to get out of here.”

She whipped around and grabbed Miranda’s leg. “No, don’t leave yet.”

Miranda fell, cried out, and tried to twist away.

The glimmer of blue was now faint and barely noticeable. “Look!” She grabbed Miranda’s face and turned it to look at the light. “Look what I’ve done!”

“Rack off, woman!” A powerful hand slammed on Talíña’s shoulder, yanking her back, ripping her from the trance.

She let out a hoot of surprise and jumped up as Miranda flipped on the flashlight and shone it on the threatening scowl of Adrien Fletcher. Frustration and impatience radiated from him. He wanted something from Miranda so fiercely that Taliña could practically taste it.

Something that would hurt Miranda, she
knew
. But she also knew his energy was unstoppable, and so was his sexual hold on Miranda.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

She closed her eyes. “You can leave now, Miranda. He’ll help you find your way.” Then she looked accusingly at him. “Won’t you?”

“Damn right I will.” He reached for Miranda, who threw an unsure look at Taliña. “Let’s go.”

They left her alone in the crypt, where the light had gone out completely.

Furious and punched by disappointment, Taliña picked up the
toli
and threw it against the angled wall of the crypt, watching the jewels crash to the lid of the sarcophagus.

He’d won this round. She’d win the next.

Maybe she was a total fake, and maybe she was as real as the dawn, but Taliña had done
something
in that crypt. Miranda felt bathed in energy, in a high-voltage arc of desire that made her whole body vibrate with need. She held tight to Adrien as he maneuvered them through branches and palm fronds, her body warring with her head.

Her body wanted to pull Adrien to her for a long, heated kiss the minute they were outside.

Her head wanted to know what the hell had just happened back in that crypt.

He stopped to let her get her breath, his hands squeezing shoulders. “Don’t ever do that again,” he growled. “I mean it.”

“Kiss me.” The words were out before she even realized she’d spoken. “Kiss me.” She yanked him closer. “Now.”

He refused. “What is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know.” It was the God’s truth. “I just…she just…” How could she explain that the force of her desire for him rocked her? All she could hear was the drum beat of her blood and her heart. She didn’t want love or friendship or protection. She wanted
sex
. Now.

The kind of sex that shook a woman to her core. The kind that made you dizzy and desperate. The kind she’d never had in her life. The kind she knew she’d have with him.

She took his hand and tried to pull him, but he didn’t move. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

“I don’t care where. Somewhere private. Somewhere…” She grabbed his neck and crushed him to her, then kissed him.

Craving and hunger and need mixed with blood-boiling desire, jolting fiery impulses through Miranda’s body, melting her brain, frying her flesh, hardening her nipples, and oozing sweet feminine moisture between her legs.

She could hear only her insane heartbeat, and the edgy, desperate, strangled breaths she managed to take in the milliseconds between kisses. Unwilling to break the contact, she pushed him deeper into the jungle, into the darkest place she could find, and dragged him down to the ground with all her strength.

She slid her tongue deeper into his mouth. He groaned her name in warning. She closed her hand over the tent in his pants. With a low moan of surrender, he blissfully, deliciously took control of the kiss, buried her breast in the palm of his hand, and pulled her against an erection so shockingly hard it could easily burst seams and zippers.

Which was exactly what she wanted it to do.

She sucked the tongue he offered as they knelt, then tumbled over the ground, locking one arm around his neck to control the position of his head and using her other hand to explore the incredible planes of muscle and sinew on his chest. She smelled wet earth mixed with hot man, and reason evaporated.

Desperate, she shoved her hand into his pants and grasped him, earning a helpless hiss from his mouth, the thrill of power surging within her.

“Miranda.”

It did tickle her, that lovely tuft of hair under his lips. She licked it, stabbing her tongue into the coarse triangle while rolling her palm over the hard arousal that strained his pants.

He’d inched away, ended the kiss, moved his hand from her breast, leaving her bursting with need. She laid back on the ground, spread her legs, and gathered her dress to her waist.

Taking his hand, she guided it between her legs, pressing his fingers against her moist panties, and a scream welled in her throat. She opened her mouth, and he captured it with another fierce kiss, turning her scream into a soundless moan, sliding his fingers expertly over her, letting her ride and roll and ache, all the while sucking and stroking his delicious tongue.

He broke the kiss, but not the precious contact.

“Miranda.” He kissed his way to her ear, struggling to speak, only able to whisper, “You’re possessed.”

“Yes.” She barely got the word out, nodding and writhing against his hand. “I am. I
am.
And you can’t stop. You
can’t
. Take me there, please. Now.”