Aztec Gold by Caridad Piñeiro Page A

during her attack, two later on. She has my brother and the last team member,” Rafe replied, his voice lifeless as he turned and stalked away.
    Hernandez reacted immediately. “Set up camp as Dr. Santiago instructed. Make it two fully armed people per shift on the night watch. Also have the spare ammo within easy reach. Cynthia will go and find out more from Dr. Santiago.”
    Grateful that he recognized what she needed, she mouthed a thank-you, spun around and chased after Rafe, but he had stopped not far from their intended camp for the night, as if he had been waiting for her. He stood in the dirt path leading back to the center of the village, head bowed and hands clenched tightly at his sides. As she approached, he glanced at her with sorrowful eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”
    “You’re damn right that you should be sorry—for not letting me know you were alive.”
    He shook his head and his sable hair, longer now after so many months, shifted with the strength of the motion. “I’m sorry that you came here, Cyn. You’ve risked your lives and the sooner you leave, the better it will be.”
    She sensed he was getting ready to bolt once again, so she stepped in his way, barring his escape. She positioned herself as closely as she could, making it not only impossible for him to move, but for him to ignore her.
    He had no choice but to gaze straight down at her from his greater height, but as before, the power of him enveloped her and she couldn’t resist touching all that strength. She laid a hand against his chest. The cotton of his homespun shirt was coarse against her palm, and beneath it he trembled.
    Was it with fear or passion? she wondered until she met his gaze and knew.
    “Take me somewhere private,” she beseeched.
    With a loud ragged sigh, he complied. He reached up and took hold of the hand she had laid against his chest. She experienced a jolt of connection as skin met skin and the familiarity of his touch awakened old memories, but the sensation of something odd nestling there created concern.
    He tempered his pace, aware that she couldn’t keep up with his longer strides. As they walked past the homes and villagers, the natives stared after them, faces still filled with both interest and apprehension.
    Cynthia tried to ignore them, focusing instead on the man carefully striding beside her, wondering what else he would have to say once they were somewhere private.
    He surprised her by not heading to any of the adobe huts along the street or surrounding the town square. Instead he turned up another broader path and continued onward until they were past the edge of the village once again and standing before an igloo-shaped mound in another open grassy field. The front of the mound had been excavated, revealing the stones and colorful Aztec tiles that had probably been hidden beneath the remaining vegetation-covered sides of the hillock.
    Rafe pointed to the short opening in the middle of the excavated wall.
    She had to bend to enter, the crude doorway being no more than about four feet high and three feet wide. When she was within, she realized that the structure had once been a steam bath. The vent to allow the smoke to exit at the top of the mound had been cleared of debris and weak afternoon light filtered downward, illuminating the bare furnishings within.
    Rafe had set up a small cot alongside one wall. A torn but carefully mended sleeping bag rested neatly on the cot. On a stone bench beside the cot, Rafe had placed a rusty oil camping lantern. He walked over and lit it with a lighter that had also been resting on the bench. The lantern was surprisingly strong, creating a wide circle of light in the area around the cot.
    The light played across the remaining items on the stone bench. A broken radio and cell phone, their pieces carefully placed beside one another as if someone had been diligently working on repairing them. The map to the temple she had seen so many months earlier. And finally,