His Lost Mate (A Steamy Paranormal Romance Novel) (4 page)

“They’re awful,” Lauren caught Deven studying her in the rearview mirror and her face heated. She cleared her throat. “When are the other students arriving?”

“It’s only the three of you on this trip. The others cancelled,” Margaret said.

“Cancelled? Why? I thought there was supposed to be a dozen of us.”

“When the travelers’ advisory raised concerns of paramilitary activity by a group called the Nequam Rebels, rumors started about the excavation shutting down and the other students decided to sign up with other projects. Don’t worry. We hear this every year and there haven’t been any problems since the seventies and eighties.”

“They won’t shut us down, will they?” If Lauren had to wait another semester to complete a field study, she’d lose some credits and have to retake the classes.

“Miss Bradford is here to help negotiate with the officials,” Margaret said. “She and the Peabody Museum have successfully overcome many obstacles typical of field projects like this one.”

Lauren hoped Margaret was right.

The van’s air conditioning rattled behind the vents, barely giving off a puff of cool air. Lauren shivered despite the warm climate. After only a few hours exploring the ruins, she felt like she’d been in her clothes for a week. Her T-shirt stuck to her skin and a trickle of sweat dripped between her breasts. If the weather was this warm in January, what would the summer be like? Margaret didn’t seem to be bothered by the heat at all.

In the front of the van, Sylvia pulled her hair into a ponytail and dabbed a bandana at her neck. “The government understands how important this project is to the Peabody Museum and to Boston University,” Sylvia said. “I don’t anticipate any problems.”

Behind Lauren, one of the students slammed his encyclopedia-sized book closed. Lauren and Margaret swung around in their seats.

“Justin, you nearly scared my soul into the afterlife,” Margaret said.

“Sorry, Dr. Hughes. It’s a good book but it’s creeping me out,” Justin said, sliding his designer shades on top of his dark buzz-cut head.

“What are you reading?” Lauren asked.

“A Stephen King book. You want to borrow it when I’m done?”

“No thanks, I’m not much into horror stories.”

Justin laughed. “Well, you’re in the wrong field. Archaeology is a horror story—digging up ancient tombs, taking treasures and artifacts, uncovering dead bodies.”

“True but I thought archaeologists unearth the mysteries of ancient civilizations, not rob graves.” Lauren enjoyed the banter and began to feel a kinship with the other students.

Kyle sat forward in his seat and shouted toward the driver. His blond-streaked hair hung in his eyes and loud industrial metal music leaked out from his earbuds. He held his iPhone in his hand. “Dr. Chandler, what’s up at the Big Dig? Justin’s ready to dig up some dead bodies.”

“We were having some difficulty finding workers to deliver supplies to our camp. Last I heard we managed to get in everything we need.”

“The locals are spooked,” Margaret added.

“Because of the Nequam Rebels?” Lauren asked.

Deven glanced at Lauren in the rearview mirror and frowned. “No, the Nequam have nothing to do with this. El Zotz is quite a distance from town.”

“It could be the ghosts,” Margaret said with a wink. Intelligence shone from her blue eyes. “On the last trip some local workers claimed to see the ghosts of their ancient Mayan ancestors.”

Ghosts haunting the ruins, paramilitary rebels hiding in the jungle, what next? Lauren shook her head, then noticed that Deven was studying her again. To her surprise, his attention made her heart race.

The two young students started chuckling. And Lauren finally got the joke. They were testing her to see how gullible she was.

“Ghosts don’t exist,” Deven said irritably. “There were a few artifacts stolen from the museum, but nothing to worry about. It’s just paperwork holding things up, shouldn’t be for long.”

Lauren noticed him gripping the steering wheel. She wanted to hear more about the artifacts, but Deven didn’t offer any details. What had she gotten herself into?

“The people living in this area have told me stories about the ghosts they’ve seen throughout the ruins,” Margaret continued. “The jungle has endured centuries of violence. Many wars were fought between the different tribes and, of course, there was the practice of human sacrifice.”

A chill shook through Lauren at the mention of human sacrifice. “Have you seen any ghosts, Margaret?” she asked, playing along with the joke. Was Margaret kidding?

“Not yet but I’m hopeful. It wouldn’t surprise me if we dig up a few ghosts along with the artifacts—hazards of the job, you know. Tikal is said to be haunted. Incidentally, Tikal means, ‘the place where spirit voices are heard’.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing a ghost,” Lauren said. “I’d rather deal with a ghost than those Nequam guys.” She thought it would make for an interesting addition to her thesis paper, “Archaeological Study of Ancient Mayan Civilization and Modern-Day Ghost Hunt”. It might be a fun project, but wouldn’t be well received in the academic world.

Deven shook his head and frowned. “It’s just superstitions. The local people hang on to old customs and beliefs.”

Why did she think there was more to the story? She would feel better once she arrived at the camp and settled into her tent. The van raced around a sharp curve and Lauren grabbed the front seat with one hand for support and picked up her guidebook with the other and started reading. Every town listed in the guidebook intrigued her—the history, the buildings, the people and the ruins. She hoped to visit a few towns before the end of her six-month stay.

The van suddenly braked hard, wheels squealed and the passengers jerked forward in their seats. Lauren dropped her guidebook and braced both hands against the front seat. When the van stopped, she looked up. Her heart jumped to her throat.

Blocking the road were three military Jeeps with a half dozen soldiers in camouflage uniforms, carrying automatic weapons. The men jogged down the middle of the road and surrounded the van.

“Uh-oh,” Kyle said.

“Probably a routine check.” Deven rolled down his window. One soldier approached the driver’s side, rifle gripped in his hand.

Deven spoke to the man in Spanish.

“We’re heading to El Zotz, the archaeol—”

“Get out of the car please. Everyone else stays,” the soldier ordered in Spanish.

“Wait here,” Deven said as he stepped out of the van and walked with the man toward the jeeps. The other soldiers remained, guarding the van with guns held waist high.

Lauren felt her heart pound as she watched Deven walk away following the man. She avoided eye contact with the soldiers. “What’s going on, Margaret?” she whispered.

“Don’t know, dear.”

“Should I get my passport out?”

“Not unless they ask. Sit tight for now.”

“Man, this really bites,” Justin whispered.

“Shhh.” Kyle elbowed him.

At first the men were especially interested in all the duffle bags and backpacks in the back of the van, then a few stood by Sylvia’s window and the look they gave her made Lauren’s skin crawl. “Great start to our trip,” Sylvia whispered.

A frightening thought struck Lauren. The soldiers could do whatever they wanted. They could kill them and dump the van in the jungle and no one would ever know what happened to them. She glanced at her hands. They were trembling. She dug her fingers into her thighs.

For several minutes, Deven talked to the soldiers, handed them papers, pointed at the van and into the jungle. The soldier handed the papers back and shook his head. The two men argued. Then the soldier raised his rifle, pointed the gun toward the van and shouted. Lauren held her breath. Would the soldier shoot him? Why wouldn’t Deven stop arguing, and get out of there?

Finally, he spun around and walked back to the van, head bowed. He hopped in, slamming the door so hard that Lauren jumped and nearly cried out. The soldiers backed away as he started the van and made a U-turn, speeding off down the road. “Sorry, folks, we have a change in plans. We’ve been denied access to the field camp.”

Moans and curses erupted from the passengers.

“What do we do now?” Lauren asked.

“We find a hotel in Flores, contact local authorities and get this straightened out.”

She was scared spitless, but she didn’t want the professors and the other students to know. If she was going to be an archaeologist, she’d have to expect to see armed soldiers in foreign countries.

“Will they shut down the excavation?” Lauren kept her voice steady, although inside she wanted to scream. What lousy luck.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Deven snapped.

An hour later, the van passed through the seedy town of Santa Elena. Deven seemed to hit every pothole in the narrow street, splashing yet another layer of mud against the walls of the crude stucco buildings. A pair of obvious prostitutes leaned in the doorway of a tavern, their expressions hard as they watched the van pass.

Lauren noticed their bare, mud-caked feet and felt pity mingled with disgust.

Wandering along the street, a scrawny dog, ribs protruding through filthy fur, stopped to lap water from a mud puddle. Everywhere Lauren saw poverty and despair. No wonder her stomach was churning.

Deven met Lauren’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Don’t worry, we aren’t staying here.”

As the van continued along the run-down streets, Lauren noticed a soldier carrying a little girl about three years old with huge dark eyes and wearing a brightly colored skirt. When the soldier kissed the girl on the cheek, she grinned and wrapped her arms tightly around the man’s neck. Her father? An older brother? What would it be like to grow up in this town?

Lauren wished Matt, her brother, was here. She twisted the amber ring on her forefinger. It had been a gift from him—a Jurassic Park joke. He had been excited about her trip to the Guatemalan rainforest. “My sister, the archaeologist,” Matt had said with pride. “Take lots of pictures.” She never thought anything like this would happen. She couldn’t leave now if she was going to graduate this year.

Margaret smiled reassuringly. “Until Deven and Miss Bradford work everything out, we’ll be staying in Flores, a little town across that causeway.” Margaret pointed to a large lake with a narrow dirt road leading to the other side. “That’s Lake Peten-Itza.”

The van bounced and swayed as Deven maneuvered along the rutted road. “Enjoy the luxury of the hotel while it lasts. The scenery at El Zotz is captivating, but the camp is primitive.”

“I love camping. It’s not a hardship for me,” Lauren said.

“Until we’re granted access to El Zotz, we can study the ruins in Tikal,” Deven said. “The park’s museum should help you with your research, Lauren. Some of the artifacts we’ve collected are stored there.”

“I look forward to it,” Lauren said. “Doesn’t the government think the camp is safe?”

There was a long silence. Margaret folded her hands on her lap. “The local authorities probably want to make sure that the Nequam are not hiding out in the area. Three weeks ago, artifacts were taken from the museum.”

“The Nequam? What if they’re in the area?” She tried to keep her voice steady.

“Intelligence agencies and local authorities are working to maintain safety at the excavation site,” Deven said. “The field camp isn’t far from Tikal and it remains open, so the danger must be minimal. Besides, the artifacts have already been recovered at the Mexican border.”

“Who exactly are the Nequam?” She imagined men in camouflage uniforms holding a gun to her back.

“Mostly they’re ex-military personnel who oppose the government and participate in illegal activities like black market sales of weapons, drugs and stolen antiquities.”

Justin and Kyle seemed oblivious to the conversation. Justin didn’t look up from his book, unless Kyle poked him to point out something along the way. Kyle’s head bobbed to his tumultuous music.

Excavating Mayan ruins in the middle of the rainforest for her final semester had sounded adventurous and exciting, but her long-awaited dream was beginning to turn into a nightmare.

Lauren squared her shoulders. She hadn’t come all this way to turn back and head home because of a few criminals.

Beyond the dreary buildings of Santa Elena, Lauren caught a glimpse of lush green hills. Fog hung in dense layers and obscured the surrounding valley like a gray shroud.

When they entered the town of Flores the scenery changed. Cracked stucco houses painted vivid pink, blue, yellow or green sagged beside the narrow cobblestone streets. Bougainvillea with fuchsia blooms draped along stone walls and archways. Between the buildings, palm trees, ferns and pink and red hibiscus flowers decorated tiny courtyard gardens. Flores was a fairytale town compared to Santa Elena.

“This is beautiful,” Lauren said.

Deven’s gaze sought hers in the rearview mirror. His intense look unsettled and excited her at the same time.

At the end of a deserted street, Deven stopped the van in front of a neat whitewashed hotel with red window shutters and trim. Tangled vines with clusters of white flowers hung around the doorways and windows. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Deven ran into the hotel.

The rest of the crew stepped out of the van into a fine drizzle. Lauren reached her arms over her head and arched her back to stretch. The mist clung to her skin and flattened her hair. She took in a deep breath and the air smelled like a flower garden after a thunderstorm. Above her, the swirling clouds appeared low enough to touch.

Deven returned with keys in hand. “The hotel manager made a call. I have an appointment with an official from
Departamento
Peten tomorrow evening.”

Lauren looked up and met Deven’s eyes. His devilish grin and the shadow of a beard accentuated his good looks—very sexy.

Kyle and Justin threw the last of the bags out of the van. Lauren’s huge suitcase stood like a skyscraper among the piles of duffle bags and backpacks.

She should have brought her duffle bag instead, but it wouldn’t hold everything she needed, or thought she needed, for six months in the rainforest. She cringed, thinking she must look like the ditzy, inexperienced adventure traveler hauling a refrigerator-size suitcase with a bad wheel.