Undiscovered (Treasure Hunter Security Book 1) Page 5

  Plus, she owed it to her parents to do the best she could in her career.

  It was the two people who’d created her who’d stirred and fed her love of history. As an only child, she’d been a little spoiled, but not by things, instead by the unconditional love and attention from her parents. They’d been poor by most standards, but she’d never felt the lack growing up. Her father had spent every Sunday afternoon snuggled up with her watching history documentaries. Her mother had taken her to museums every month.

  They’d been the best family, despite having cheap clothes and no fancy things, until the day it had all come crashing down.

  She owed them. And Declan Ward, for all his dark, sexy looks, was not the right man for her.

  ***

  “I hate the desert.”

  Dec turned, his boots sinking into the golden sand of the dune, and eyed Logan as his friend joined him. “You’ve sure spent a hell of a lot of time in them, O’Connor.”

  Logan crossed his arms. “Well, when I joined the Navy, I didn’t expect fucking sand all the fucking time. It itches, it’s scratchy, and it gets into places where you really don’t want it. Now that I’m not a SEAL anymore, I was hoping for no sand.”

  “Quit your bitching,” Dec said. “You’re being paid far better than the Navy ever paid you.”

  Logan let out a gusty sigh. “That is true.”

  Dec let his gaze drift over the archeological dig. They were deep into the Western Desert, and the sun was bright and hot in the clear blue sky.

  Local laborers were hard at work, moving buckets of sand and lowering ropes into the large hole in the ground. Many were dressed in the lightweight jellabiya robes. Here and there, it was easy to spot the archeologists and their student assistants. They were all wearing wide-brimmed hats, and light-colored trousers and shirts.

  They’d been here a day, and Dec and his team had already finished their assessment and started implementing new security procedures. The security guards they were working with were local but trained by an international security company. Not the best Dec had worked with, but not the worst.

  There’d been no sign of Anders, and Dec wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or worried.

  The one person who wasn’t making it easy was a certain archeologist.

  He spotted a slim figure talking earnestly with some of the local workers. Rush tended to speak with her hands, and she rivaled an admiral at giving out orders. She always seemed to be busy doing something. He suspected relaxing was not in her vocabulary.

  They’d butted heads. A few times.

  As he watched, she smiled at the workers, then moved out onto the wooden scaffold that lined one side of the deep excavation. She disappeared from view.

  A light wind picked up, throwing sand Dec’s way. He saw Hale circle around some tents and head up the dune toward Dec and Logan.

  “Hate the sand,” Hale grumbled.

  Dec grunted and thrust a thumb at Logan. “Join Logan’s club.”

  “Kind of jealous that your brother scored the other job,” Hale said.

  Dec wasn’t so sure Callum would agree. “Cal’s in the jungle. You have sand, he has mosquitos.”

  “I hate mosquitos,” Logan added.

  “I think you’re both going soft on me.” Dec looked at Hale. “Safe all set up?”

  The man nodded. “Yep. Left a few artifacts in the storage tent, but that gold dog and anything else valuable will go in the safe I have hidden in one of the personal tents.”

  “Good work.” A rush of movement around the excavation made Dec focus back on the dig. He frowned, wondering what was going on.

  “Dr. Rush is planning to bring up a stone statue. A big sucker,” Logan said. “She’s pretty excited about a big lump of rock.”

  The workers were tossing ropes down into the hole.

  “Better keep an eye on this.” Dec started down the hill. “Hale, check out the western side of the site and check in with the guards.”

  “Got it.”

  “Logan, check in with Morgan. I want to make sure we haven’t seen any signs of anyone trying to get close to this dig.”

  Logan nodded. “On it.”

  In an instant, Logan and Hale turned into the serious former soldiers they were.

  Dec reached the excavation hole and saw the workers heaving back on the ropes. He could hear Rush yelling orders up from the bottom of the pit. He stayed to the side, scanning, making sure everything was okay.

  Then he heard a thwap sound. Workers started shouting.

  A rope had snapped.

  The workers on the other rope were pulled toward the hole.

  Dec touched his earpiece, sprinting forward. “Logan, we need another rope. Fast.”

  Dec jumped over the scaffold railing, landing on the uppermost wooden platform. He saw the large statue of a man hanging at a precarious angle. Below, Rush was urging workers and archeologists to get out of the way.

  Then he heard another sound.

  A metallic ping.

  The scaffold beneath his feet lurched away from the wall.

  Shit. The screws had given way and the scaffold was threatening to collapse.

  He spread his feet, trying to balance on the wobbling structure. Below, he heard panicked cries. Workers stuck on the scaffold were trying to get down, making it rock even more.

  “Dec!”

  Logan’s and Morgan’s heads appeared above. Logan tossed a coiled rope down.

  Dec grabbed the rope, moving it through his hands, getting a feel for the weight of it. He quickly made a loop at the end, then he leaned over, eyeing the dangling carving.

  Then he saw Rush, right below the statue, helping workers down off the scaffold.

  His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to judge the distance to the dangling artifact and compensate for the sway of the scaffold.

  He tossed the rope.

  The loop fell perfectly over the end of the statue. He pulled back, tightening the rope.

  “Logan?”

  “Here.”

  Dec tossed the rope up. Logan grabbed it and yanked.

  The statue leveled out and moved upward.

  Dec swung onto the outside of the scaffold and quickly climbed down. He felt the structure tilt farther away from the wall. He moved faster.

  It was going to come crashing down at any second.

  He felt more screws let go, felt the wood giving way.

  Dec leaped the last few feet to the ground, rolling once, then coming back up on his feet. He saw Rush and two workers still in the line of fire.

  “Run!” he called out in Arabic. The workers scrambled back toward where the others were huddled by the far wall.

  “The artifacts—” Rush’s face was pale, her eyes wide.

  Dec ran like a football linebacker. He scooped Rush off her feet, hearing her muffled cry. He heard the groan of the structure falling behind them.

  Then he swung her around in his arms and skidded toward the far wall like a baseball player into home base, keeping her tucked tight against his chest.

  The scaffold slammed into the ground behind them, and a cloud of dust rose up.

  He sat up and Rush did, too. She was coughing, waving her hand to clear the air.

  “What the hell did you think you were doing?” he bit out.

  ***

  Layne coughed one more time, enjoying the feel of a hard, muscled chest pressed up against her.

  Pity the muscles belonged to an awfully cranky, bossy man.

  She straightened, pulling away from him. She’d been working on isolated digs her entire career. Not to mention the halls of academia. She was used to cranky men. She’d dealt with crankier.

  “Well—”

  “You have a damned artifact dangling precariously and it weighs a hell of a lot more than you, and a scaffold threatening to collapse, so you decided to stand right under it?”

  She straightened at his cutting tone. “I was helping my people get to safety. I was trying
to see if I could save any artifacts. My people, my dig, Declan.”

  And Layne intended for the rest of this dig to go off without a hitch. She eyed the shattered remains of the scaffold. Her chest tightened. Well, no more hitches.

  Declan pushed to his feet in one lithe flex of muscle.

  Layne quickly stood, not wanting to have him towering over her.

  Not that it helped. She was average height, and he was well north of six feet. Even with his khaki cargo trousers and shirt covered in dust, the man made an impact. She hated that she kept noticing that—the muscled body, the lean face, the intense gray eyes.

  “You do not risk your life.” His face hardened. “My company was hired to take the risks. We take care of security, and the lives of the people on this dig.”

  “I’m not going to sit around watching and wringing my hands like some medieval damsel.”

  Declan thrust his hands on his hips. “Rush—”

  Ugh. She hated when he said her name in that tone. She turned away. “I need to check the statue.”

  Firm fingers circled her arm and she felt his touch burning through her shirt.

  “The scaffold is in pieces. You can’t get out yet.”

  Dammit, he was right. “I need to check my team, as well.”

  He eyed her for a second. “The statue made it out okay. Logan has it secured at the top.”

  Relief punched through her and she forced herself to be polite. “Thank you.”

  A brief smile flickered over Declan’s face. “That didn’t hurt too much, did it?”

  She shook her arm free of his hold. “It stung a little.”

  His smile widened, but when he touched his ear, she realized his team was contacting him.

  Layne took the chance to head over to where her archeologists and grad students sat huddled with the local workers. “Everyone okay?”

  There were nods and grumbles. She was damn grateful that no one was injured.

  “Dr. Rush, we could have been killed. I am extremely upset this occurred, and want to know how you’ll ensure this doesn’t happen again.”

  Layne rolled her eyes at the snippy voice. She turned and faced her senior archeologist, Dr. Aaron Stiller. Almost every day, she regretted choosing him as part of the team. She knew he had been hoping to land the job as head of this dig, and had been disappointed he’d lost out to her.

  He’d been taking that disappointment out on her daily.

  “Dr. Stiller, I will ensure this is investigated.”

  Stiller was in his forties, tall and very thin, with a head that was rapidly losing its hair. The man sniffed. “All the work we’ve done down here is ruined.”

  She turned and eyed their worksite. The carefully placed markers and ropes were all jumbled. She saw several pots had been smashed. She sighed. There was nothing of huge monetary value damaged, but it still hurt her heart a bit. Everything they dug up was a piece of history and that made it valuable to her.

  “Rush?”

  Declan’s voice made her turn.

  He waved to a rope ladder that had been dropped into the excavation. It was what they’d used before the scaffold had been erected.

  “Okay, everyone,” she said, clapping her hands. “Let’s get topside and take a break.”

  She watched her team all head up the ladder.

  Then she felt a hand touch her side. She gasped, grabbing the thick wrist.

  “You’re bleeding.” Declan was frowning. He tugged at her shirt.

  “Hey.” She slapped at his hands.

  “There’s blood on your shirt. Let me see.”

  “It’s nothing.” Now that he mentioned it, she felt a slight sting.

  He tugged her shirt free from her cargo trousers and lifted the hem a few inches.

  Layne huffed out a breath. She’d been looking after herself a very, very long time. She wasn’t used to anyone tending her wounds but herself. She felt the stroke of callused fingers on the skin of her belly and her breath rushed out.

  “Scratch. Must have hit a rock.” Declan was looking down, completely focused on her injury.

  Layne blinked, pushing back the strange and unwanted warmth running through her. “It’s nothing.”

  “Here.” He pulled something from one of the million pockets on his cargo trousers. Then he pressed it to the scratch.

  She blinked. It was a pink bandage with cartoon princesses on it. A reluctant laugh broke from her. “Why do you have kiddie bandages in your pocket?”

  He grinned. “I get them for my guys. Logan hates them.”

  She shook her head and for a second, tried to imagine the intense and slightly scary Logan O’Connor wearing a pink bandage. She couldn’t do it.

  Her gaze settled back on Declan’s dark head. She was amazed they weren’t arguing. Since they’d reached the dig, he’d been busy trying to boss her around—security this and security that. Most of the things she’d agreed with—like the emergency backpacks everyone now had stowed in their tents. They contained rations, water and gear for surviving the desert. But some of the rules got in the way of them doing their job. No one was allowed to work alone, and no night digging. She wrinkled her nose. It was really going to slow down their progress.

  She cleared her throat and stepped back. She shifted her gaze away from him, and that was when she saw it.

  A huge, gaping hole in the side wall.

  “Oh, my God.” She hurried over and heard Declan mutter under his breath.

  He grabbed her arm. “Where the hell are—”

  “Declan, look.”

  He spotted the hole and stilled. “The scaffold must have knocked through the wall.” He touched his ear. “Logan, Rush and I are taking a look around. Be up shortly.”

  “Come on.” She patted her belt. “Dammit, I don’t have my flashlight.”

  A bright beam of light clicked on. She eyed the large, rugged flashlight Declan held. It was nothing like her small, serviceable one.

  Together, they approached the opening.

  “Stay near me,” he said. “I need to assess the stability—”

  “I’ve done this a time or two, Ward.”

  She thought she heard him making a growling sound. “Just stay back and listen to me.”

  “How about I stay right beside you and we listen to each other?”

  “You don’t mind saying exactly what you think, do you, Rush?”

  “Life’s too short to beat around the bush.”

  Now she thought she heard him mutter something about stubborn mules and smart women. She grinned to herself.

  As they neared the ragged hole, her heartbeat picked up. This was one of those moments that made all the long monotony of brushing away sand and dirt, of cataloguing every tiny shard of pottery, and spending hours soaking and cleaning artifacts worthwhile.

  These once-in-a-lifetime moments were the ones she’d dreamed about as a little girl. Layne stopped and waited while Declan shone the flashlight around inside.

  “Holy hell,” he muttered.

  Layne swallowed her giddy excitement.

  It was another room and it was richly decorated with art. Declan’s light illuminated the barely faded reds, golds, and blues.

  “It’s the main burial chamber,” she whispered. “I knew it was here.”

  The walls went dark as the light moved and she realized he was studying the roof.

  “Looks sturdy,” he said.

  “Good.” She slipped in before he could stop her.

  “Dammit, Rush.”

  “It looks New Kingdom, maybe Third Intermediate Period.” She saw an image of everyday life, women in flowing white gowns, one breast exposed. A beautiful temple by the banks of an oasis. A man in the typical rigid pose, one foot forward and holding a jar. “This is really high quality. Whoever is buried here was someone important.”

  “This really gets you going, huh?”

  She turned and saw Declan studying her like she was a strange specimen under a microscope.


  “Come on, you’re telling me none of this excites you? She held her hands out. “Standing in a place no living soul has been in for thousands of years? A chance to uncover a fascinating piece of history?”

  He raised one brow. “Maybe a little. Watching you do it is pretty exciting.”

  Her heart tripped. If he hadn’t said it so matter-of-factly, she would have accused him of flirting. Not that she guessed Declan Ward ever flirted. Hell, the man didn’t need to, not when he exuded that sexy, dangerous aura that would draw women like bees to honey.

  She cleared her throat. “Let’s look at the back—”

  Declan swiveled the light and Layne gasped. Her stomach tightened. “A sarcophagus.”

  A huge stone box made of granite stood on a raised platform. Above it, the roof had been carved in an arch and painted blue. It was dotted with gold stars and a woman’s long outstretched body.

  “She’s Nut, right?” he said.

  Layne nodded. “Goddess of the Sky and mother of Seth. She was often painted on the vaults of tombs and inside the lid of a sarcophagus. She protected the dead.”

  Then Layne spotted the artwork on the back wall behind the sarcophagus. “Wow.” She’d never seen anything like it.

  It was a painting of a huge, dog-like animal. Wild and fierce, it had a straight, forked tail and triangular ears. It was like it was posed over the sarcophagus, also protecting whoever rested inside.

  “Looks like the set-animal,” Declan said. “Looks like whoever was buried here didn’t buy into the bad stuff about Seth.”

  “No.” She moved closer to the sarcophagus. “If this is from the New Kingdom period, it makes sense. There was a resurgence of support for Seth, led by the great pharaohs Seti and Rameses II.”

  She touched the smooth granite of the burial box, wondering at the long-ago artisan who’d toiled to make it.

  Who was buried inside?

  “Hey, the lid’s broken off in the corner,” Declan said.

  Layne frowned. “Dammit. Probably means grave robbers beat us here by a few thousand years.” She shot him a sour look. “Perhaps Hasan’s ancestors.”

  Declan looked around. “Doesn’t look like it’s been disturbed. Could they have broken the lid when they put it here?”