Dec closed his eyes. God, he had work to do. He didn’t need a super-smart, opinionated woman messing him up. And she certainly didn’t need a man like him messing up her life. She had no idea what he was truly capable of.
As he turned to face the darkening camp, his jaw tightened.
The local workers were all gathered around a fire, talking quietly and drinking what they called coffee. The stuff tasted like dirt and twigs to him, so he steered clear of it.
What was worrying him was his and Logan’s analysis of the scaffold. He’d spent a couple of hours down in the excavation with Logan, cleaning it up and helping the workers put the scaffold back together.
He had nothing definitive, but there were small signs that said its collapse hadn’t been an accident.
The scratch marks on the anchor points, the loose and worn bolts. It could just be a coincidence, but Dec wasn’t really one for hoping things were just a quirk of fate. Too many times on a mission with his SEAL team, he’d seen that coincidence turn into a big pile of shit.
It paid to gather information, plan and be ready, just in case coincidence turned out to be someone with a hard-on for making your day suck.
Dec touched his earpiece. “Logan? Everything quiet?”
“As a graveyard,” Logan replied.
“This is technically a graveyard.” Dec’s dark thoughts went back to the collapsed scaffold. He could picture Layne standing there, about to be crushed. “Let’s just keep it an ancient one, not a modern-day one.”
“Boogeyman getting to you, Dec?” Morgan’s voice.
“The scaffold incident has left me cautious.”
Logan’s snort came clearly through the line. “You’re always cautious. Cautious is your middle name.”
“Just keep an eye out, okay?”
“Always do.”
Dec circled the camp. He checked the smaller personal tents. Most were dark, everyone exhausted from a busy day. One or two had faint lights on inside. The archeologists reading up or planning for the next day.
Then he spotted the larger storage and work tents.
One still had lights burning bright.
He knew who was up and working.
The canvas flap of the doorway was rolled up and tied. He stood there for a second, watching her.
She wasn’t hard to watch. She was bent over a makeshift wooden bench. On top of it lay the golden scroll from the sarcophagus. She wasn’t wearing her hat now, and her rich, dark hair fell around her shoulders.
She was wearing gloves and touching the scroll like it was the most precious thing she’d ever seen. The look on her face…it trapped his gaze. He stepped closer, trying to see exactly what she was looking at. She grabbed a pen and scratched some notes down in the notebook at her elbow.
Then she straightened like she’d been shot and spun toward him. She led with her fist, her green-gold eyes wide, her body tensed.
Not expecting the move at all, her fist slammed into his face.
“Goddammit.” He staggered backward, grabbing his nose. “What the hell, Rush?”
The air rushed out of her. “Dammit, Declan, you scared me.”
“So you thought you’d punch me?”
“I thought you were an attacker.” She bit down on her lip, looking like she was trying not to laugh.
“It hurts,” he said with a burst of annoyance.
Now she did laugh. “I know. I’m sorry.”
He probed it gently. “Don’t think you broke it.”
She looked contrite now. “It’s been broken before.”
“Yeah, my brother Callum slugged me in the face when we were kids. My father grounded him and my mother told me to move quicker next time.”
Layne’s lips twitched. “Should I get you some ice?”
“I’m fine.”
“God, you move quietly. You really did scare me.”
“Sorry. My training. And nothing to do with the fact that you were completely absorbed in your work.”
She tilted her head. “They teach you to be super quiet in security school?”
Damn, she could be a smart aleck. “No, in SEAL training. You need to pay more attention to your surroundings, Rush.”
“I will.”
He snorted, not buying her contrite tone for a second. “Is your hand okay?”
She flexed it. “I’ll survive.”
“So, how’s the work going?” he asked.
“Okay.” Her nose screwed up in an adorable fashion. “I’ve been working to translate the hieroglyphs etched on the scroll.” She lifted a magnifying glass over the golden surface.
Dec studied the symbols.
“The occupant of the tomb is Itennu. He was a high-ranking priest of Seth, and he commissioned this scroll. I haven’t finished deciphering all of it yet. I’ll be honest, most of it just doesn’t make sense.” She sighed. “I think I’m missing something. Added to that, some of the hieroglyphs are a little unusual, so it’s taking me some time to translate them. This one here has me stumped—” She pointed to a tiny squiggle. “I’m going to need to pull my books and tablet out…” She drifted off. “I’m boring you.”