“This is it,” she finally said, opening her eyes and speaking quickly. “We’re here. Pull over to the side there. Quick!”
The guys immediately shot to attention, guiding the raft to the riverbank. They moved so fast Ford barely had time to contemplate what Corrie had said. This is it. How did she know? How could she tell?
Ford didn’t have an opportunity to question her as she jumped out of the boat, planting her boots firmly in the dirt on the shore. She took several steps forward, then squatted to the ground, placing her hand on the dirt. Her back was to them, but Ford didn’t need to see her face to know what it looked like. She was taking it in. Taking in the earth. The air. Everything around her.
She shot up from her crouched position and set out toward the trees.
“Where are you going?” Ford called out, still pulling gear from the raft.
“Come on!” she called without looking at him.
“Go. We got this,” Memo said, situating the boat.
Ford grabbed his bag and a walkie, then ran through the trees to catch up with her. She jogged as if she knew exactly where she was going despite not having the map.
“Corrie, wait up.”
But she didn’t wait. She kept going. Going right until she reached it.
A slope in the jungle. The bowl.
With little pause, she started climbing. Ford trailed behind, cursing under his breath about her insistence. He clawed at the slope, pulling himself up by roots and trunks. This couldn’t be it. There was no way Chimalli and Yaretzi had gone up and down this treacherous slope every day for water or food or whatever else was out there.
No way this was . . .
“Oh my God, this is it,” Ford said, standing atop the rim of the crater.
Down below, a partially forest-covered adobe structure sat, undisturbed for centuries. Half of the structure was covered in dirt, moss, and vines, hidden from the world. Satellite imagery would have likely missed it. Ford would have likely missed it had it not been for Corrie.
No, if she weren’t here, he would still be digging in that same wrong spot.
“Come on, let’s go down there,” she said, pulling him by the hand.
Now having found the place, they took their time descending into the bowl. Ford took in the surroundings, taking note of what Chimalli’s life must have been like living here. To the right the earth had a gentler slope. Likely the way they’d gone in and out. Trees scattered throughout provided cover from the elements. And with its proximity to the water, this actually would have been a fine place to set down roots.
They tentatively walked up to the structure, careful not to disturb the area. Not without first taking photos and having their proper gear. It would never look like this again. Not once they were done with it. They took in the moment. Staring at the adobe hut for what felt like hours.
“Can you picture it? Chimalli . . . here?” Corrie said, her voice quiet and reserved.
Yes. Yes, he could. A perfect hiding place from the wrath of Moctezuma II and the army he’d abandoned. Far away from the dangers waiting for him—and Yaretzi, if she truly existed—in Tenochtitlán. And away from the sweeping conquest of the Spaniards. It was idyllic, really. Quiet. Secluded. Beautiful.
Safe.
Corrie took a few steps forward, kneeling next to the structure and placing her hand on the worn adobe. She closed her eyes, as if feeling Chimalli’s spirit through the bricks, then opened her eyes and looked right at Ford.
“I’m so happy right now I could cry.” She stared at him with her big, beautiful brown eyes glistening with the threat of tears. “Thank you, Ford. Thank you for bringing me here.”
Ford’s heart swelled—he’d done that. Ford Matthews had made Socorro Mejía so overjoyed that she’d almost cried. But he couldn’t take all the credit.
“You brought yourself here. Thanks for bringing me.”
She smiled at him, but something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Movement. Through the vines.
“Corrie, watch out!”
Ford barely had a second to react before a snake lunged out of the tangle of vines straight toward Corrie’s hand resting on the brick. With speed he didn’t even know he possessed, Ford lunged toward her, reaching one hand to grab the snake right behind its head, and the other to pull Corrie out of harm’s way. She screamed as the impact caused them to tumble, with Corrie landing on her back and Ford kneeling over her, one hand on the ground next to her head and the other still holding the snake. Its mouth agape, fangs ready to sink into flesh as its tail end thrashed around, trying to get loose. But Ford kept squeezing behind its head, protecting them from its fury. Lifting himself as he straddled Corrie’s hips, Ford gathered the snake and whipped it through the air as far as he could throw it.
Corrie breathed heavily beneath him, still clearly in shock, and he looked at her. Her chest heaved and her hair splayed out over the dirt, with sticks and other debris stuck between the strands.
Didn’t matter—she still looked gorgeous.
He reached down, delicately plucking a twig from her hair. Much to his surprise, she didn’t yell at him to get off her. Instead, her breathing slowed as her gaze softened, and she eyed him with purposeful intensity. His hand traveled to her face and brushed away a speck of dirt from her forehead, then another from her cheek, and another that allowed his thumb to linger dangerously close to her glisteningly enchanting lips.
“Did you literally grab a snake in midair to save me, Dr. Matthews?” Her voice was like thick warm honey. Sweet and viscous, coating Ford’s insides with desire. She’d never said his name like that before. Said Dr. Matthews like a seductress. The only thing that had ever come close was when she’d moaned his name this morning in the tent.
“I believe I did, Dr. Mejía,” he said to her with hooded eyes as he leaned in, placing his hands on either side of her head. His deep voice growled through his throat. “But are you acknowledging that I saved you? Because I believe that’s the third time I’ve come to your rescue on this trip.” His lip turned up with a quirk.
“Third?” She smirked.
Her hands reached to his waist, sending an inferno soaring through his body.
“Well, there was the time I saved you from falling off that boulder, then when I pulled you out of the river, and now here I am with my snake maneuvers.”
He inched closer to her as she tightly tugged on his belt loops.
“Well, Indy’s got nothing on you. He would have left me to die if a snake came at me.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I was named after Harrison, then, and not Indiana.”
He leaned forward, their faces less than a foot apart. Her full lips begging to be kissed. Her entire body begging to be near his. Eight years. Eight years since he’d let this same moment pass them by in the library. He wouldn’t be letting this moment pass again.
“Mayday! Mayday!” Jon’s panicked voice yelled through the walkie. “Dr. Matthews! Dr. Mejía! Mayday!”
Fuck.
Corrie and Ford scrambled to get up, reaching for Ford’s backpack containing the walkie-talkie. Worst-case scenarios ran through Ford’s head. Broken leg? Puncture in the raft? More snakes? Cheetahs? Shit. While he and Corrie had been messing around, something bad had happened.