his height. The rubble surrounding it was at least twenty yards across. All of it had been consumed by the jungle, though the biggest limestone blocks were still fighting for their place in the sun.
Hunter took a slow, deep breath. Perhaps smoke from clove cigarettes, perhaps a dead campfire, perhaps his instincts working in overdrive. Whatever had happened here recently wasn’t happening at this moment. He no longer felt watched with predatory interest.
And he still didn’t like the fact that he had felt that way.
“Any back roads from here to Tulum?” he asked.
“None that don’t pass over estate lands. As a cat sanctuary, we’re off-limits to tourists and hikers. Besides, there’s not much here to see. No beaches. No mountains or canyons worth mentioning. No striking ruins. No village fairs. Bird-watching is average, at best. Cenote de Balam is barely known beyond the boundary of the estate itself.”
Hunter nodded slowly. “What you’re saying is that the area is pretty much a blank spot on the map.”
“A lot of the Yucatan is like that. Without rivers to provide food, freshwater, and relatively easy access, or any wealth to be mined once you manage to get deep into the jungle, this area has been left alone. Around Tulum there is the biggest underwater cave complex in the world, all gnawed out of limestone one drop at a time. But none of the underground passages connects with our cenotes.”
“Somebody liked it a long time ago,” he said, looking at the rubble mound.
“Even before the Maya came, there were people here. Some of the oldest human skeletons in the New World have been found deep in the flooded caves of Tulum. They come from a time when an ice age locked up so much water the sea level was much lower than now.”
“What about this site right here? Has this been dug?”
“No. There were—and are—more promising sites. But this one is my favorite. There’s something about the isolation, the feeling of time made tangible.” She half smiled. “I’ve never been able to explain it. This site simply draws me.”
He studied the overgrown remnants of what had once been a substantial structure. Very faint paths webbed around the mound, leading to the far side.
“So, what is this place?” Hunter asked as he looked for any sign of an entryway.
“It’s a tomb. We think.”
“‘We’?” Hunter asked. “Philip comes here?”
“Not since we measured it. Ten years ago I found this site and some others by using remote sensing techniques. Spectral analysis of satellite images of the jungle pointed me in the right direction. Even overgrown sites reflect light differently from undisturbed jungle. Philip listed them in order from most promising to least and went to work.”
“With your help?”
Her mouth tightened. “When I insisted. And I insisted that I be here for any excavation at this site. So”—she shrugged—“he put it at the bottom of the list.”
“And you’re still waiting.”
“Most of the time, I don’t mind. Part of me likes knowing the mound is here, untouched.”
A breeze came, swirled. It sounded like snakes crawling around them, a dry scrape of scales. The haze in the sky was still thin, barren of rain.
“What do you think the rubble once was?” Hunter asked.
“Philip says it was like the rest of the Reyes Balam sites, only much smaller, a sixteenth-century pimple on the bitter end of the Maya road.”
“After the Spanish?” Hunter asked, measuring the rubble and the jungle with the eyes of a predator rather than a tourist or an archaeologist.
“We’re not entirely sure, but yes. Most of our Reyes Balam sites were created by people fleeing population centers after the fall of the Maya civilization, which preceded the Spanish. Some of the sites we’ve found were active several generations before 1550, but after that, the sites grew quickly in size and number.”
“Vanquished kings looking for new thrones.”
Lina smiled. “I doubt that our Maya ancestor was a king. More like a favored son who saw the Spanish handwriting on the wall and put his
Hunter shook his head. “And you just want to be plain old Lina Taylor, Ph.D. Must really make your family crazy.”
“They return the favor.”
The breeze lifted again, almost secretive in its hushed presence.
With pale eyes Hunter searched the jungle. If there were any more mounds, he couldn’t see them beneath the thick growth.
“Mind if I walk around the edges?” he asked.
“Go ahead. If there was anything of obvious archaeological significance, Philip would have been here, rather than scrambling around in Belize.”
“Philip sounds like the type who couldn’t overlook any chance, however slim or distant, to get one up on a rival.”
“You haven’t even met him, yet you already know him.”
“You’re a good teacher.” Hunter jumped lightly down from the outcropping, then turned and held his arms up for Lina.
She could have jumped down just fine without him, and both of them knew it. So she smiled and let him lift her. Before he put her down, he gave her the kind of kiss that made the world spin around her.
“Your father may act like an ass,” Hunter breathed against her lips, “but he contributed sperm toward one extraordinary offspring.”
Lina blinked against a sudden sting at the back of her eyes. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do a thing. You did.”
Before she could say anything, he lowered his head just enough to sink into her mouth. She flowed against him like warmth from a fire, sinking into him in turn. Finally, slowly, he raised his head.
“Either we stop now or we go for ticket sales and a limestone mattress,” he said hoarsely.
“Ticket sales?”
“The locals lurking out in the jungle.”
“Oh.” She sighed. “I’m willing to try the limestone mattress, but not the tickets.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Figured.” He blew out a hard breath and reminded himself of all the reasons it would be really stupid to let down his guard long enough to do what his body was demanding. “C’mon, let’s take a walk around the ruins.”
She led him to a reasonably clear thread of path and set out toward the mound.
“Who do you think is buried here?” Hunter asked.
“Somebody more important than the folks who built the tomb,” she said dryly. “But on the scale of Maya monuments, this is really small change. It’s isolated, unconnected to any other sites.”
“Could have been a secret place.”
She gave him a startled look over her shoulder. “That’s what I think. Or rather, what I feel. This is an unusual site.”
“Why don’t you explore it?”
“Philip has first rights on all the ruins on Reyes Balam land. It was part of the prenuptial agreement he signed. In return, he gave up any legal claim to Celia’s name or inheritance.”
“He gets first dig rights and walks away from the sure thing—money.”
Lina laughed oddly. “Celia married to get out of the Yucatan. Philip married to get exclusive digging rights in the Yucatan. The old Chinese curse—may your fondest wish come true.”
Hunter whistled softly. “Life’s a tricky bitch.”
“Oh yeah. Even back then, Philip was drawn to hints of Kawa’il. He met Celia on a university-sponsored dig on Reyes Balam lands. When I read
