Stolen Chances (3 page)

She could swim through a dark cave with barely a light and only a few minutes of oxygen without being scared, but airplanes freaked her out big time. Giant metal machines were not meant to fly. And certainly not people. Birds and insects. That was it.

She let go of Lisa’s hand and wiped the sweat on her capris. “Okay. Not doing that again. We’ll rent a car when it’s time to go back to Cancun.”

“Car would take too long. Especially with the way traffic travels on these back roads. And I’m pretty sure we crossed water at some point. Car won’t work. We’d sink.”

“Okay. A boat. I don’t care. I’ll even take a Jet Ski. But I’m definitely not doing that again.”

Lisa laughed and reached for her bag.

Maren breathed slowly and, feeling marginally steady, finally took a good look around.

The landing strip was nothing more than a short stub of grass, no more than the width of a normal street in the States and as long as a football field. Palm trees lined the outer rim of the airfield. Off to the left, a small airplane hangar housing probably no more than two planes glittered in the afternoon sunlight. A run-down shack that had to be the terminal sat ahead between two large palms.

There’d be no getting out of here quickly if she had a panic attack. And considering she didn’t yet know how sick her father really was, she had no idea how long she’d even be here.

That was a question she probably should have asked before leaving Isabel. But she’d been too worried to think.

The pilot killed the engine and whipped around in his seat, flashing a toothless grin. “Welcome to Southern Quintana Roo.”

Maren managed a “Thank you” and unbuckled her lap belt. The Cessna’s door opened, and humid air redolent with the scent of exhaust enveloped her. Sweat beaded on her neck and trickled down her back, but at least her feet were now on solid ground.

She slipped on her sunglasses and glanced around the small airstrip while the pilot helped Lisa get their bags. “We were supposed to meet a car.”

The pilot lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the blistering sun. “A Jeep? Like that one?”

He pointed across the airstrip to a grove of palm trees. Maren’s gaze followed the sweep of his hand, then stopped.

Two men stood, leaning against the hood of a shiny black Wrangler. One had auburn hair, long legs, and a slim build. He wore khaki shorts and a white T-shirt. The other was darker all around—rough, tanned skin, dark hair—wearing faded jeans and a loose, Red Socks T-shirt blowing in the light breeze.

Maren’s breath caught. And her heart gave an involuntary skip before dropping like a stone into her stomach.

“Oh my God.” No way was this happening. Not here. Not today. Not after everything she'd been through.

Lisa turned and froze. “Oh, crap.”

Maren didn’t take her eyes off the Jeep and the dark-haired man watching from across the airstrip. “Did you know about this?”

“I swear, Maren, I had no idea.”

She bit her lip to keep from screaming, tossed her duffle over her shoulder, but couldn’t seem to look away from the Jeep. Her father wasn’t hurt or sick. There was no hospital or “facility.” This was a setup. And she was going to
kill him
when she saw him.

Control. Stay calm. You can handle this.

Legs steadier than she expected carried her across the tarmac. When she reached the Jeep, she checked the emotions rushing through her and stopped an arm’s length away from a man she’d hoped not to see for quite some time. At least until she was older. And wiser. And a hell of a lot stronger.

Thad Leighton.

His hair was thicker than she remembered, but his body was toned and filled out in just the right places. And though she hated to admit it, she saw exactly what she’d missed in those magazine articles Isabel had cut out about his successes overseas. Broad shoulders, flat abs, narrow hips, and strong, muscular legs.

Memories teased the edge of her mind, but she pushed them back, refusing to remember how she’d explored that body with hands and fingers and her own sensitive flesh as they’d tangled together on a secluded Mexican beach.

He didn’t move from where he was leaning back against the vehicle, but even behind the dark shades, she knew his eyes were fixed on her. “Hey, Maren.”

A feeling she didn’t know how to define bubbled through her at the sound of his deep voice. A voice that had once whispered promises in her ear, one she’d dreamed of hearing thousands of times over the years. “Thad.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah. It has.”

Time and circumstances had taught her about control. She wouldn’t give him the benefit of seeing her break. She turned away before he could speak again, focusing her attention instead on the redhead still leaning against the hood of the Jeep, watching their exchange with genuine curiosity. “I’m Maren Hudson.” She pointed behind her. “Lisa Maxwell.”

The other man stepped away from the vehicle and extended his hand. “Nate Drummer.”

“Nice to meet you. Is my father at the site?”

“Patrick, right?”

She nodded.

“He’s there,” he confirmed.

“Good. Let’s go.” She tossed her bags into the Jeep and climbed in the backseat, letting Lisa take the front next to Thad.

There were some pleasantries between Thad and Lisa. A hug, a few shared laughs, but Maren tried not to listen.

She had
not
come all the way down here for this, to be waylaid by Thad Leighton of all people. To be set up by her father. By her mother, for crying out loud. Were they all working together? Had hell frozen over?

She wanted answers. But not from the people around her. She wanted them from her father. That lying, good for nothing, son of a—

Forcing back the anger, she stared out at the passing scenery. They drove for roughly ten minutes up the coast, then pulled off into an area of palm trees and small hut-like casitas. As they neared what she knew her father would call ground zero, Maren caught a glimpse of two more Jeeps and a few rangy people milling around the site. She scanned the area and found her father no more than fifty yards ahead, talking with a young couple in the middle of camp. Perfectly healthy and tanned in the early evening sunlight, exactly as she expected.

Anger simmered under her skin.

The Jeep slowed and finally stopped. Grasping the frame, she climbed up and jumped out without a word. And didn’t bother to look back.

T
had turned off the ignition, gripped the steering wheel, and watched Maren stalk toward her father. He was pretty sure he could see steam pumping out of her ears.

Well, hell. He should have anticipated the cold shoulder, right? It wasn’t like he’d expected her to throw herself into his arms after all this time. He was damn lucky she hadn’t flattened him at the airstrip. He’d be the first to admit he probably deserved it.

He watched as she waved her hands at her father in an obvious sign of frustration, not caring who saw. Patrick glanced around, then eventually managed to pull her toward his casita before she laid into him in the middle of the road and caused more of a scene than she was already making.

She still had a temper. She’d kept it carefully guarded at the airstrip, but she sure as heck wasn’t hiding it now. Patrick obviously hadn’t told her Thad would be here. His mind drifted to their numerous arguments nine years before. Then shifted to the sultry makeup sessions that had always followed.

He ran a hand down his face and blew out a slow breath. Dammit, she looked good. Better than he’d envisioned over the years. And yeah, he’d envisioned plenty. Her silky blond hair was longer than she’d worn it the last time he’d seen her. Those blue eyes seemed lighter, more spellbinding. Her voice was the same, but that mesmerizing face had lost its youthful look, was now mature and exotic and, just his luck, drop-dead gorgeous.

“You planning to sit there and stare all day, or are you going to help me with these bags?”

Thad glanced toward the petite redhead standing next to the Jeep with her fists perched on her hips.

Same old Lisa. Blunt and to the point.

He couldn’t stop the smile that curled his mouth. He’d missed her too. If she’d married Colin and if things hadn’t turned to crap all those years before, she might have been his sister-in-law.

Ignoring that painful thought, he climbed out of the Wrangler. “You planning on bitching at me the whole time you’re here?”

A sassy one-sided grin slinked across Lisa’s pixy face. “I’m thinking about it. Especially considering the way Patrick tricked us both into coming down here.”

Thad cringed. Obviously, Maren had more reason to be pissed than simply because of his presence. “That bad, huh?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No. Trust me, I’m not in on Patrick’s schemes. He only called me two days ago.”

Lisa studied him across the vehicle, and amusement toyed with the edges of her lips. “In that case, you’re forgiven. Though bitching at you does hold some merit. I know you’ve missed it.”

Thad smiled. He had missed her. More than he’d realized. He walked around the vehicle and hugged her, this time with real gusto. “You look good, Maxwell.”

“You too, Leighton. It’s been way too long.”

At least someone was happy to see him. He figured that was a plus. He eased back. “I heard you got married. Congrats.”

Something warm and electric flashed across her face as she dropped to her heels. “I did. You’d like him. He’s a no-good son of a bitch, just like you.”

Thad chuckled. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Glancing over her head toward Patrick’s hut, he sobered. “You think she’s gonna stay?”

Lisa turned and followed his gaze. “That’s the million-dollar question at this point, isn’t it? Depends on what Patrick has to tell her. But if I were a betting woman, I'd say it doesn’t look good. Patrick’s tactics were pretty sneaky.”

“I’m not saying I agree with him, but I understand why. You will too when you realize what he’s up to.”

Lisa’s brow wrinkled as she looked his way again. “Okay, spill. What is this all about?”

Thad glanced toward Drummer, who was unloading bags at the back of the Jeep. Drummer held up both hands in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me, dude. I’m just the hired help.”

Thad refocused on Lisa. And inside, his stomach churned. “Patrick thinks he’s found
La Malinche
.”

Lisa’s face paled. “No.”

Thad looked back toward Patrick’s cabin, and for the first time since he’d gotten Patrick’s call, wished like hell he hadn’t said yes. “I’m afraid so.”

“
W
hat the hell do you think you’re doing?” Maren glared at her father and tried to settle her smoldering temper.

It didn’t work. Patrick’s impassive expression only fanned the flames of her fiery anger.

“Relax, Maren. I realize you’re upset—”

“Upset? Upset! You haven’t seen upset yet! I just spent thirteen freakin’ hours trying to get here. And for what? For this garbage? No way. That was a low blow, even for you.”

Patrick placed his hands on her shoulders. At fifty-nine, his hair was just starting to gray and his muscular body showed no signs of aging. Hurt or injured? Bullshit.

“I realize you’re upset,” her father said, “but ranting and raging isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Oh, he hadn’t seen ranting yet. “How could you do this to me? When did he get here?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” she repeated. Her father's betrayal cut like a sharp, hot knife. Then again, why was she surprised? The man had never shown her even one ounce of loyalty in all her thirty-two years. “He obviously knew I was coming, because he wasn’t surprised in the least to see me.”

“Yes. He knew. I didn’t think you’d get on a plane and come down if you knew I’d asked him to join us.”

“You’re damn right!” She threw out her arms in frustration. How could he just stand there, looking at her like it was no big deal? Did he not have a clue what she’d been through the past nine years? “What on earth compelled you to drag me down here knowing he’d be here? You know how I feel about him.”

“I need you here. That’s why I asked you to come. I need the best archaeologist, and you’re the best.”