Perfect Specimen: Brietta (3 page)

“That’s good.” She eyed him coolly. “Nice job changing the subject, by the way.”

He chuckled. “I have a packet of research for you. All the information you’ll need. My preference is to share it on the second leg of our journey. We’ll change planes in Istanbul, and then I’m an open book.”

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, but she reminded herself he hadn’t actually lied to her. Hadn’t he promised to share the details “during the flight”? Apparently he had meant flight number two. She might have badgered him further, but her left cheekbone was beginning to throb, so she took a deep breath, then picked up the last of the hot washcloths and pressed it against her face, inhaling the steam gratefully.

“When we get to Istanbul, I want you to see a doctor. There’s no problem delaying our next flight since it’s a charter. And once we get to the site, we’ll be hours away from medical assistance.”

“I’ve had zillions of these infections over the years, and the treatment is always the same,” she said, bluffing a bit, since she had actually only had two such infections and neither had involved the kind of searing pain she had experienced earlier that week.

Forget about that stupid episode
, she scolded herself.
It hasn’t come back, and you were so furious at Taggert that night it’s a miracle you didn’t burst an artery!

She could see her new boss was unconvinced, so she assured him, “As soon as I realized I was leaving the country for parts unknown, I called my doctor and she phoned in a prescription for me to pick up on the way to the airport. So I’m officially under a doctor’s care already.” Regretting the edge to her voice, she added more graciously, “It takes a while for the antibiotic to kick in, but once it does, I’ll feel great. So just forget about it, please?”

“Get some sleep then.” He took the dishes from her tray so she could swing it back into the armrest.

“Thanks.” Grabbing a blanket from the pouch in front of her, she reclined her luxurious leather seat until it was virtually horizontal, then she rolled away from him toward the window and tried to escape into sleep.

* * * *

As Taggert studied the female sleeping fitfully beside him, a recurring thought annoyed him: he had been right to avoid hiring her for this job, but apparently for the wrong reason. He had been concerned about mixing business with pleasure, but there didn’t seem to be any danger of
that
now. She was apparently going to stay angry with him for the entire ten weeks, and worse, she was sick.

You should have followed your gut
, he told himself, but hadn’t his gut changed its mind several times? At first, when he’d done some quick research on ancient cemeteries and discovered her book, she had seemed perfect for the role of decoy archaeologist. She would concentrate on the graveyard, and the world would think
that
was the raison d’être for this expedition, when actually, the real find—the jewel in the Taggert crown—was fifteen miles northwest of that humble site.

Brietta had called him paranoid, a description he would grudgingly embrace if it meant he wouldn’t get scooped like his dad. Especially not with this particular project, which was really a tribute to the old man. It might make the son famous, but it would also heap postmortem kudos on Paul Taggert, who had originally found the site but had almost taken its location to the grave with him.

No pun intended
.

So yeah, his gut had wanted to hire a burial-ground expert as part of the overall smoke-and-mirrors plan. Not that the cemetery wasn’t legitimate. It actually promised to be first-rate, and would help the careers of Brietta and the two grad students. It just didn’t matter to Tagg.

Brietta had sounded great on the phone when he’d first invited her to apply. Enthusiastic and professional, but young enough that he figured he could manipulate her love of buried treasure so she wouldn’t guess his secret until he was ready to reveal it. She had promised to get back to him if she could rearrange her speaking engagements, and he had become so fixated on her as the perfect choice he had decided to check her out in person by attending one of her lectures.

That was when his gut had changed its mind. Seeing her in person, he had realized why she had so many gigs lined up. She was engaging and dynamic. Not to mention gorgeous—dark wavy hair, dark blue eyes, killer shape. Rather than finding a methodical little bookworm reading from her excellent but dry treatise, he was confronted with a performer, laughing and engaging her audience, striding around with her cordless microphone and basically telling stories. Her smile was irresistible, her laugh contagious, and her body just wouldn’t quit. Every guy in that audience was falling for her, and thanks to her jokes about dudes, and shoes, and desert grooming, the women were visibly cheering as well.

At that moment, an infatuated but horrified Tagg had known for a fact that this dynamo wouldn’t stay put at the cemetery. She was too curious, too energetic, too perceptive. She’d be all over the secret cavern before the first week was done. He just wouldn’t be able to keep her away. And worse, he wouldn’t even want to. He’d probably
invite
her to the secret spot for a seductive viewing.

And so he had dumped her from his candidate list, incurring her wrath in the process. He had been correct to do that, he knew now. Then he’d been so disoriented by Sally’s heart attack, and so desperate to find a quick replacement, he had convinced himself he could control—
and
resist—Brietta.

“Now it looks like you’re gonna have to
carry
her,” he told himself wistfully as he studied her tortured expression. Even in her sleep, it was clear the pain hadn’t abated, and without thinking, he reached over and brushed his fingertip across her forehead, smoothing out a deep furrow.

To his surprise, it appeared to make a difference. Not only did the crease disappear, but her breathing relaxed as well. Hoping that if she got some decent rest she might actually work out after all, he gently rubbed her forehead, then grinned proudly when she rolled slightly to face him, still asleep and looking peaceful. Almost angelic.

“Mr. Taggert? Is Ms. Ryerson feeling any better?” the flight attendant whispered from the aisle.

He pulled his hand away like a guilty man who’d been caught molesting a drugged woman, then he tried for a casual smile. “Looks like the meds are beginning to kick in. Finally.”

“Maybe you should try to get some sleep too.”

Ignoring her judgmental expression, he said with a shrug, “Yeah, I think I will. Do you know if our colleagues in coach are doing okay?”

“They’re adorable. Sound asleep in each other’s arms,” the woman replied, visibly thawing. “Are they honeymooners?”

“Every day’s a honeymoon for those two,” he said, chuckling. “Thanks for keeping an eye on them for us.”

She smiled. “Good night, sir. By the time you wake up, we should be touching down in Istanbul.”

Chapter Two

Brietta had expected the landing to be a pain-fest, and had promised herself that if it proved too harsh she’d swallow her pride and let Taggert find some specialist to examine her. Instead, she actually felt rested and refreshed as they touched down.

Apparently it was just an infection after all.

Nice work scaring yourself to death, nutjob. It’s a good thing your phone forgot Josh’s number or the whole family would be worried for nothing.

Still, she wasn’t about to tempt fate, so she allowed the others to do the heavy lifting, luggage-wise. Soon they had trudged through customs and were settled into a twin-engine plane heading east-northeast. Or at least she was ninety-nine percent sure it was east-northeast. Her usually infallible sense of direction had been hampered by waves of nausea that grew worse whenever she tried to look out the window.

True to his word, Taggert supplied a packet of materials so comprehensive it took her a full hour just to skim the highlights. History, legends, religious teachings spanning nine centuries—and to a certain extent four millennia—while also covering a broad expanse of territory, most of which had been part of the Phrygian, Persian,
Odrysian
or Chaldean—not to mention Hittite—dynasties at some point in time.

“You couldn’t have narrowed it down a little?” she complained finally. “I mean, it’s fascinating, and I don’t remember a lot of this from college, but still—”

“I like to be thorough.”

“No, you like to be vague. As in, I still don’t know where the heck we’re going. Turkey? Bulgaria? Russia?”

“When we get there, you’ll know,” he assured her with a teasing laugh. “I guarantee it.”

“Hey, look!” Melody’s nose was pressed to the window. “Is that Mount Ararat?”

“You tell me,” Taggert said with a shrug.

“It’s probably Olympus,” Vince insisted. “We’re flying south, right?”

Brietta reached into her carry-on for her lightweight Swarovski binoculars—a Christmas gift from the Ryerson cousins—and handed them to Melody. “Look for a wooden ship on top of the highest peak.”

Taggert chuckled. “My secret is out.”

“I know you’re half joking,” Melody said with an uncertain smile, “but you didn’t really find the ark, did you? I mean, that would be sooo amazing. And it would explain all the secrecy—”

“It would also mean the graveyard is filled with animals, not people,” Vince joked. “Two of each kind, right?”

“Hence the need for a paleontologist,” Taggert agreed. Then he caught Brietta’s scowl and added with mock sincerity, “Too soon?”

She forced herself not to return the smile. He could be so charming when he wasn’t being bossy. Or a backstabber. Not to mention a cheat—because for all his witty repartee and piles of tutorials, he
still
hadn’t told them where they were going. She even suspected their landing in Istanbul had been just another way of throwing them off.

Then the plane began banking again, and something about the motion—or maybe the change in air pressure—hit her right between the eyes with a stab so sharp she yelped and grabbed her face with both hands.

“Damn.” Taggert switched to the empty seat beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Stunned by the blinding agony, she wanted to curl against him and beg him to take care of her. But her pride won out, and she wriggled free, assuring him weakly, “I’ll be fine once we land.”

“You said you were better—”

“Well, I guess I lied. So we’re even. Right?”

His expression darkened. “There’s a village near the airstrip. It’s small, but I’m sure they have a doctor—”

“I told you, I already
have
a doctor.” Noting that the grad students were fidgeting, she switched to a more civilized tone. “It’s nice of you to worry, but it just takes a while for the antibiotic to kick in. Plus, any change in air pressure is hell on sinuses. So anyway—thanks for the concern, but I’ll be fine.”

“I brought Vicodin,” Melody murmured. “And Vince has some pot. Medical marijuana, I mean.”

“What?”
Taggert glared in disbelief. “You brought illegal drugs into a foreign country—”

“They aren’t illegal,” the younger man insisted. “I have a prescription—”

“Oh, well, then we’re fine,” Taggert drawled. “Be sure to show it to the prison guards, okay?”

Grateful that the attention had shifted away from her, Brietta closed her eyes and fought a second wave of pain, this time centered behind her forehead.

How many freaking sinuses can one person have?

She wasn’t quite ready to take the grad students up on their pot offer, but the Vicodin was a different matter. She planned to score some of
that
as soon as Taggert’s back was turned. She only hoped Melody had brought a full bottle.

* * * *

At the airstrip, a banged-up SUV awaited them, and Brietta wanted nothing more than to curl up in the backseat with a T-shirt over her eyes to block out the midday sun. Unfortunately, she needed to pretend to be healthy—or at least improving—or Taggert would drag her to a local doctor and abandon her there. He had her book, after all. Why would he need the actual expert?

So after a quick trip to the restroom with Melody to secure the necessary painkillers, she opted to sit in the front passenger seat and even offered her services as navigator. Predictably, Taggert assured her he knew the way, hence no need for maps or GPS, or anything else that might pinpoint their location. Not that she cared at this point. She just wanted to recline her seat, shield her eyes with sunglasses, and avoid passing out or vomiting.

Or both . . .

“Are you up to this?” he asked, his tone skeptical.

She nodded. “I just took my second dose of
amoxicillin, plus some decongestant, so I’m sure the worst is over.”

“Let’s hope so.” He started the engine and headed onto a dirt road leading away from the village. “The altitude could be a problem, though. For all of us, but especially for you. And don’t forget jet lag. So you’re gonna need to take it easy these first few days. Understood?”

“You’re the boss.”

As they sped over increasingly rocky terrain, he shared more details about the project, and even though Brietta’s eye socket ached anew with every bump in the road, she could feel herself getting into explorer mode at last. This was always such a great moment—arriving at the dig site, seeing the land in its natural state, buried under centuries of dust, and imagining it taking shape as history revealed itself with painstaking care.

Taggert explained that he had already exhumed two skeletons—the first by sheer luck, the second to ensure this wasn’t a single random grave site. Instinct had already told him he had made a major find, but in order to justify the necessary financing for personnel and equipment, he had needed tangible proof.

And he had found it. One adult male with his skull bashed in. A second male who had apparently been stabbed to death with a spear or other blade.

“And I’m guessing at least two dozen more bodies gauging from the outlines of the cemetery.”

“Both died violent deaths? That’s intriguing. I’m surprised you could stop yourself from digging up a few more, just to confirm the pattern.”

“I’m impatient by nature,” he confirmed, “but when it really matters, I can resist temptation.”

“Good to know. So? What are we thinking? Warriors? Some sort of executions? You said your best guess right now is between the eighth and second centuries BCE, right? That’s pretty broad. Can I see the reports from the lab?”

“The skeletons are still at the site. I figured you’d want to see them
in situ
. And I didn’t get any lab work done yet.” Wincing, he added, “ I’m paranoid, remember?”

“Trust me, I remember.” She gave him a begrudging smile. “If you were anyone else I’d call you arrogant, but you definitely have your reasons. It was so awful for your poor father, having that tomb ransacked.”

“Yeah, it almost killed him.”

“He was a great man,” she murmured. “And it was such a loss to
all
of us when—well, when you lost him. You were seventeen, right? I lost my parents around that age too.”

“Both of them?” Taggert’s brow furrowed. “That’s rough. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“Cousins. And a wonderful uncle and aunt. They swooped in to take care of me, so I was pretty lucky. How about you?”

“I was lucky too. My grandparents stepped up. Plus, Dad left journals and notes . . .” He grimaced. “Anyway, you have your work cut out for you. My plan is to put you in complete charge of the burial site. Melody and Vince will report to you. I’ve hired a security expert named Hannan—he’ll report to me.”

“One guy to provide all our security?”

“When you see him, you’ll get it.” Taggert chuckled. “There are four guards there now, but they’ll leave as soon as Hannan arrives.”

“So I’m in charge of the burial site? I like that arrangement,” she admitted, “but where does it leave
you
?”

“Exploring the area. I figure there has to be something else out there. Some reason the cemetery was situated where it was.”

“I agree. It’s so desolate out here. Barren, really. And no rivers, no trees. At least not anymore. Do we think there were settlements?”

“Unlikely.”

“So you’re thinking it was a battlefield?” She nodded. “That would explain the injuries. Except why weren’t there any weapons buried with them?”

“Not just no weapons.
Nothing
was buried with them. No medals. No tools. No pottery. You name it, it’s not there.”

“That’s just so odd. There’s always something.” She felt a shiver of excitement. “I can’t wait. And I’ll help with the exploring too.”

“Just concentrate on the burial site. That’s what I hired you for.”

She winced at the abrupt dismissal.

Just when I was almost starting to like you
, she told him in silent disgust.
Thanks for reminding me what a jerk you are.

Reclining her seat a bit more, she closed her eyes, and the next two hours passed in silence, which suited her just fine, since her head was killing her again. Unfortunately, her sleep deteriorated into a nightmare, where a mad scientist in a dimly lit laboratory was methodically removing the top of her skull with a chain saw, revealing her brain, which he cheerfully poked with bizarre instruments.

Jolting back to consciousness, she was relieved to see that Taggert hadn’t sensed her distress. And meanwhile, the pain in her face wasn’t as blindingly sharp as before, so she decided to blame it on the altitude instead of her infection. Plus there was all this dust. And the jet lag.

And most of all, there was Taggert.

Who
wouldn’t
feel sick under such conditions?

* * * *

In spite of everything, Brietta’s spirits soared as she exited the SUV to assess her new surroundings. Two large tents, several smaller ones, plus a giant canopy over an area that doubled as a supply center and a makeshift dining hall. In the distance stretched a barren expanse of sandy dirt, surrounded on three sides by scrub-covered hills, mostly worn down but punctuated by occasional craggy peaks resembling obsidian sentinels.

Tearing her gaze away from that imposing sight, she focused on a nearby patch of dirt staked off with pegs and string. A twenty-by-fifteen-foot parcel, disturbed only at one corner and roughly in the center. Tarps had been stretched over it but were being removed by the security guards at Taggert’s direction.

And for one fleeting moment, she almost loved Sean Taggert. Not just for giving her this—the most provocative site she could imagine—but for everything else. The strong arm around her shoulders during that horrendous descent. The noble undertone when he’d talked about his best friend’s fiancée and their wedding costs. Even the way he had yelled at Vince about the medical pot. And most especially the way he had spoken of his father. He wasn’t just a dutiful son, he was truly devoted to the great man’s legacy. Reading every journal, every notation . . .

Too bad he’s a jerk
, she reminded herself sharply.
He fired you before he even
hired
you, plus he clearly doesn’t trust you. So get over it, will you?

Walking over to the site, she knelt at the corner where the first remains were displayed under transparent sheeting. Pulling the plastic aside, she carefully lifted—and cradled—the skull, noting the place where it had been crushed from behind.

“That must have hurt like a sonofabitch,” she told the dead guy sympathetically. “I can relate. So? Who did this? And why?”

She felt a throbbing in the back of her own head—a new spot for her—and chalked it up to bizarre empathy since it didn’t seem possible that she had sinuses back there, of all places.

Setting the skull down, she moved to the center of the staked area to examine Taggert’s second find. The shattered sternum on the skeleton confirmed the diagnosis—this guy had been stabbed through the heart. And even though it had happened almost three thousand years earlier, the resultant pain was eerily imaginable.