The younger woman shook her head. “Well, just remember, all work and no play makes Dr. Rush very boring and in need of getting laid.”
Layne rolled her eyes. “I’ll worry about my personal life, thanks for your concern.”
Piper stuck her hand on her hip. “You haven’t dated since Dr. Stevens.”
Ugh. Just hearing her colleague’s name made Layne’s stomach turn over. Dr. Evan Stevens had been a colossal mistake. He was tall and handsome, in a clean-cut way that suited his academic career as a professor of the Classics and History.
He’d been nice, intelligent. They’d liked the same restaurants. The sex hadn’t been stellar, but it was fine. Layne had honestly thought he was someone she could come to love. More than anything, Layne wanted it all—a career, to travel, a husband who loved her, and most importantly, a family of her own. She wanted the love she remembered her parents sharing. She wanted the career they’d only dreamed of for her.
Maybe that had blinded her to the fact that Evan was an asshole hiding in an expensive suit.
Layne waved a hand dismissively. “I’ve told you before, I don’t want to hear that man’s name.”
“I know you guys had a bad breakup…”
Ha. Piper didn’t know half of it. Evan had stolen some of Layne’s research and passed it off as his own. And he’d had the gall to tell her she was bad in bed. Moron.
“Look, go,” Layne said. “Head into the oasis, soak in the springs, relax. You’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow in the hot sun.”
Piper groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
But Layne could see the twinkle of excitement in the young woman’s eye. Layne saw it in her own every day. Being on a dig was always like that. Uncovering a piece of history…she could never truly describe how it made her feel. To touch something that someone had made, used, and cherished thousands of years ago. To uncover its secrets and try to piece together where it fit into the story of the world. To see what they could learn from it that might help them understand more about humanity.
She found it endlessly fascinating. Best job in the world.
After waving Piper off, Layne headed to the storage tent. The canvas door was still rolled up and secured at the top. As she stepped inside, the temperature dropped a little. Now that the sun had set, the temperature would drop even more. Nights in the desert, even in spring, could be chilly. She’d need to get to the portable shower they had set up and rinse off before it got too cold.
She’d lost count of the number of digs she’d been on. In the jungle, in the desert, under cities, by the ocean. She didn’t care where they were, she just loved the challenge and thrill of uncovering the past.
Layne flicked on the battery-powered lantern hanging on the side of the tent. Makeshift shelves lined the space. Most were bare, waiting for the treasures they had yet to discover. But the first shelf was lined with shards of pottery, faience amulets, and stone carvings. But it was the locked box at the base of the shelf she was most interested in.
She quickly dialed in the code on the tumbler-style lock and lifted the lid.
God. She stroked the ushabti reverently, its gold surface glowing in the lantern-light. Her parents would have loved to have seen this. To know their daughter had been the one to find it.
The necklace was still in pieces, but back in their lab in Cairo, someone would piece it back together. The chunky golden scarab would fit perfectly in the palm of her hand. She carefully lifted the small, dog-like amulet. It was slightly smaller than the scarab, and the canine had a slender body like a greyhound, and a long, stiff tail that was forked at the end. She was sure this was a set-animal, the symbol of the Egyptian god, Seth. She stroked the hieroglyphs on the animal’s body and the symbols that spelled Zerzura.
Unfortunately, none of the hieroglyphs here made sense. She’d spent hours working on them. They were gibberish.
There was a noise behind her. A scrape of a boot in sand.
She turned, wondering who else had stayed behind.
A fist collided with her face in a vicious blow.
Pain exploded through Layne’s cheek and she tasted blood. The blow sent her sprawling into the sand, the set-animal carving falling from her fingers.
Layne couldn’t seem to focus. She lay there, her cheek to the sand, trying to clear her head. Her face throbbed and she heard voices talking in Arabic.
A black boot appeared in her line of sight.
A hand reached down and picked up the set-animal.
She swallowed, trying to get her brain working. Then she heard another voice. Deep, cool tones with a clipped British accent that made her blood run cold.
“Move it. I want it done. Fast.”