And Vautour would be damned if he thought he could soil Corrie’s reputation and violate her privacy by capturing nude photographs of her.
“Listen, motherfucker—” Ford growled.
But Vautour cut him off again. “No! You listen, you insignificant pillock!” The spittle practically seeped through the phone. “I don’t give a shit about your self-righteous ideals. The minute you accepted my offer, you stepped into a whole new ball game, Dr. Matthews, and this one doesn’t have rules. Now, you’re going to get me that fucking knife. But don’t test me or I will destroy you and everyone and everything you care about. You have one week.”
Click.
What the hell just happened? Ford stood motionless, stunned by Vautour’s reaction. Vautour hadn’t ever given Ford warm fuzzies but up until that moment, he’d also never given off criminal vibes. He never should have taken this job.
Never in his life had Ford felt so powerless. He stared at the phone. It felt heavy and dangerous. As if he was holding the weight of everyone’s lives in his hands. A burden for him to carry. Alone.
A sinking nausea settled over him. There would be no getting out of this unscathed. No scenario could guarantee a positive outcome. Because no matter how Ford proceeded—standing up for his morals or standing up for the others—he’d be destroyed regardless.
If he was truly being honest with himself, he could admit that he’d compromised his morals the minute he took the job. Took the job right out from under Corrie.
Was this who he was? Was he any better than Vautour?
He glanced around the camp—at Ethan, at Sunny, at Agnes, at the other interns and workers—and guilt washed over him. Guilt that all of them were there because of him. Unknowingly putting their livelihoods in his hands.
He could never let them take the fall for his mistakes.
Then Corrie walked into his line of sight. An ache swelled in his heart. Not an ache over the fear that he was going to lose her after this. That much he was certain of. An aching at the thought of her getting hurt. He couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t let that happen.
Because that ache . . . it was love.
Chapter
Nineteen
We’re done,” Sunny said, finally returning to the holding group.
“We’re done?” Corrie asked. “What do you mean, ‘we’re done’？ We haven’t even talked to half of the camp yet,” she said.
Sunny shrugged. “Dr. Matthews said we’re done.” She then turned to the group that had already been searched and questioned. “Everyone can go back to your tents. Or to whatever it is you want to do. Dinner’s still at the same time tonight.”
The group grumbled as they dispersed. Not that Corrie could blame them. They’d been in lockup for the last two hours, and for what? To go on their merry way without any explanation?
Better yet, where was Corrie’s explanation?
“Did Ford say why he’s called it off? Did he figure out who it was?”
Yes! That had to be it. Though the last person he and Ethan had questioned was Agnes. And no way could Agnes be the bad guy. Right?
“I have no idea. The investor called, and then Ford came back, told us to shut it down, and walked away.”
What?
Corrie scanned the camp, Ford nowhere in sight. Something wasn’t right. No, Ford had his weird ways and all, but leaving a crook running around camp didn’t make any sense. And they couldn’t chance it. Not now that they’d actually found what they came for.
She had to talk to him.
“I’ll be back,” Corrie said to Sunny, before marching through camp searching for Ford.
Not in the mess tent. Or his tent. Or the bathroom. Yes, she checked. So where was he?
Ethan had no idea. Agnes had no clue. He hadn’t gone back to the waterfall, had he?
No. Ford wouldn’t do that. Sneak off to continue digging by himself. Not after he’d chastised Corrie for trying to sneak off alone to the site over a week ago. They had rules. But that was also before they’d hit the jackpot.
She considered that thought for a moment, but quickly batted it away. She trusted Ford. So she waited.
The rest of the camp carried on as if the day hadn’t been disrupted by scandal. Sure, a few murmurs carried throughout the camp, but no one acted upset by what had happened. Upset that they’d essentially been accused of being thieves. By dinnertime, though, everyone had moved on from the whole ordeal. Everyone except Corrie, who couldn’t focus on anything except Ford’s whereabouts.
Corrie’s mind wandered as Ethan told the interns a story about an expedition he’d gone on in Belize. The engrossing story and laughter kept everyone else’s attention on Ethan, so they were paying no mind to Corrie, who was focused on the outskirts of camp. Watching. Waiting for Ford.
What’s that?
A flicker of light came from beyond the trees. The unmistakable zigzag of a flashlight. And then nothing.
She squinted, zeroing in on the tree line.
There. There he was, emerging from the jungle. Dirty and wet. What the . . .
Fire burned in Corrie’s belly. That sneaky sack of turds. He’d gone back. Back to the waterfall. Without her, or anyone else.
Corrie had started to rise from her seat when Ethan caught her attention. “Right, Corrie?” he asked.
She shot her gaze to Ethan, then glanced around the table, all eyes on her. “Um . . . sorry. I missed what you were saying,” she said, settling back onto the bench so as not to draw too much attention to the situation.
“I was telling them about that time you tricked the museum director with that fake gold necklace, convincing him it was a five-hundred-year-old relic, when in actuality you bought it from, what, a mall kiosk?”
“Claire’s boutique,” she clarified matter-of-factly, though her focus remained on Ford at the outskirts of the camp in the corner of her eye.
Ethan and the others laughed, even though she wasn’t trying to be funny. “Oh my God, yes. You should have seen his face when she admitted it was a fake,” Ethan explained to the group.
Call it a knack, but Corrie could smell a gullible person from a hundred yards away. And sorry, but that director should never have been hired if he couldn’t tell the difference between Claire’s costume jewelry and the real deal.
That little act hadn’t earned her any fans with the “serious” experts in her field, though. She probably should have thought about that before pulling such a stunt on the husband of the International Institute of Archaeology’s conference director. All right, fine. Maybe she was partially to blame for her less-than-stellar reputation.
With the conversation focused on her, however, she couldn’t exactly leave to go confront Ford. She bided her time, planning in her head what she was going to say to him when she finally had her chance. And the instant dinner wrapped up, Corrie hightailed it straight to Ford’s tent.
“Care to explain where you were today and what the hell is going on?” she demanded, blasting into his tent without even the barest attempt at a knock.
Though her commanding presence immediately softened upon finding Ford standing in the middle of his room wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his trim waist. Water droplets dripped from the tips of his blond tresses onto his chest. His clean, fresh juniper scent wafted in her direction, intoxicating her senses. She rubbed her fingertips against her thigh, picturing them grazing his hard abs. Pulled her lower lip into her mouth, ready to feast upon his skin. Damn. She should have joined him in that shower while everyone else was distracted by dinner.