Beautiful Sacrifice: A Novel

Silently she shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes.

No wonder he looks dangerous. He’s a damned grave robber.

She told herself that the disappointment breaking coldly over her was way out of line. Hunter was nothing to her. Less than nothing.

Thief of the dead.

“I’ve had enough coffee,” Lina said abruptly.

Before she could stand, his hand snaked across the table and grabbed her wrist, pinning her in place. The grip was gentle. And unbreakable unless she wanted to make a scene.

“Let’s see that hand,” Hunter said.

“It’s fine.”

“Okay. Then tell me about the photos.”

“I didn’t really look at them.” She hadn’t had to. An instant was all she needed to know she shouldn’t be here, with him.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked.

His voice was gentle, but his eyes were as implacable as the hand around her wrist.

“I don’t talk about artifacts without provenance,” she said flatly. “Or are certificates of export and import in that envelope, too?”

Hunter glanced around the coffee shop with eyes gone as flat as her voice. Too many people. Too close.

“How about we talk in your office?” he asked.

“Until I see papers for those artifacts in the photos, I have nothing to talk about with you.”

“The artifacts were taken in a drug bust at the Texas-Mexico border.”

“Who are you?” Lina asked.

“A man who bought you coffee. That’s all. No badges, no official inquiries, no headlines in academic magazines and reputations muddied. At least, there don’t have to be.”

He knows, she thought, hoping her face didn’t show her fear. Somehow he knows about the scandal that nearly brought the Reyes Balam family down. And he’s threatening another.

Isn’t he?

“Your office?” he asked again.

“I don’t bring grave robbers into the museum.”

“Good. I’m not one.”

“Or slimy middlemen or collectors who troll the black markets.”

“Still good,” he said.

She stared back at him with eyes gone dark.

“Look,” he said. “We need privacy or you’ll be facing another scandal. My apartment isn’t far way. Neither is yours.”

“How do you know?” she asked, torn between anger and a fear that made her even more angry.

“Same way I know a lot of things. I checked you out. It’s what I do. Find things, especially if they’re lost in Mexico. I’m private. Very private. But if a public badge would make you feel better, I can call my friend. He’s with Immigration and Customs Enforcement. I’m working with him on these.” Hunter tapped the photos on the edge of the table.

“My office,” Lina said tightly. “I know men there with badges.”

Rent-a-cops, Hunter thought sardonically. But if they make fear go away from those beautiful eyes, rent-a-cops are my new best friends forever.

“Your office,” he agreed.

A few minutes later, Lina locked her office door behind her and watched Hunter fan the damning photos over her mostly clear desk. The locked door was a signal to students and professionals alike that she didn’t want to be disturbed.

But she was more than disturbed. She was scared.

If Hunter was lying to her about keeping his silence, her career was over. And if he wasn’t lying to her, her career probably still was over. From the little she had seen in the photos, they could easily have been the pieces her mother had been sniffing after this morning.

Celia, what have you done now?

With an expertise that came from years of experience caught between her warring parents, Lina smoothed all expression from her face.

“These pieces were seized at the border by ICE,” Hunter said again, figuring she didn’t need to know about DEA and the beagle brigade.

“You can prove that?”

“If it will reassure you, I can bring in an ICE badge. Depending on where Jase is, it will take about half an hour.”

“Jase?”

“Jason Beaumont,” Hunter said. “My closest friend.”

Lina walked over to her desk, trying not to stare at the photos.

Failing.

The fear that had rooted in her kept growing. Fumbling slightly, she slid into her office chair without looking away from the photos.

Hunter studied Lina’s face as she studied the photos. Unlike the flash of panic or disgust he’d seen in the coffee shop, she appeared entirely composed now. Since she came from a high-test family, he wasn’t surprised at her calm. The Reyes Balam bloodlines were as blue as they came, New World and Old combined.

“What do you want from me?” Lina asked.

He wanted more than information, but that was his personal problem. It wouldn’t get in the way of his professional needs. Or Jase’s.

“First and foremost,” Hunter said, “a promise that this goes no further than the two of us.”

“Why?”

“A man’s job hangs on finding those artifacts. Fast. He has two kids and another on the way. To help him, I need the kind of knowledge you have.”

It wasn’t what Lina had expected to hear. She blew out her breath. “Just the two of us. And that goes both ways, Hunter.”

“Three. Jase already knows I was going to contact you.”

“Is it his butt on the line?” Lina asked bluntly.

“Yes.”

“All right. The three of us. If this gets out, I’m ruined.”

“Just for talking to me?” Hunter asked.

“There is no shade of gray in the academic view of unprovenanced items. You’re pure white or you’re garbage waiting for the disposal to be turned on.”

“The Caesar’s wife syndrome?”

“Exactly. My family’s reputation wouldn’t survive another scandal. Neither would mine. As you well know,” she added coolly.

“The sooner you help me find these artifacts, the quicker you’ll be left with the purists.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes dark and measuring. Then she looked at the photos. “Do you know where the artifacts came from?”

“All I know is that the plates on the truck caught at the border were from Quintana Roo.”

“The driver?”

“The same.”

“Has he mentioned any specific area or ruins?” Lina asked without looking up. Holding her breath. “Q Roo is a big state.”

“He’s dead,” Hunter said. “He didn’t talk about anything but getting shuck of the artifacts. He was afraid of them, or of whoever would take delivery.”

“You’re not making this any easier,” she said under her breath.