He hung his head. “I know. Which is why I want to give him what he wants so we can all get out of here.”
“Well, I’m not leaving.”
“What?” He shot a look to her. “No, Corrie. Please don’t start this again. We’re all packing tomorrow and heading out. It’s nonnegotiable.”
“Who said I’m negotiating? I’m staying, Ford. I’m not going to let some rich asshole dictate my decisions. If he releases those photos, then fine. But it’s going to be because I made the decision to stay and not because he scared me off. I came here to do a job, and I’m not leaving until we pack up those goddamn bones. And the way I see it, we still have seven days.”
“Corrie, we shouldn’t mess with him. He’s got multiple people in camp watching and reporting our every move.”
“So what? What are they going to say? That we’re doing our jobs?”
“Look, I went there tonight so we could get out of here. So I could hopefully avoid the investor coming after you.”
She threw up her hand to stop him. “Save your chivalry for some other damsel. You did this to protect your own ass—and your investment.”
“Nothing about me being here is for me.”
She scoffed.
“Tell me something,” she said, ticking her head to the side and crossing her arms. “What if this dig had been destined for someone else? One of your male colleagues, perhaps. Would you have handled it the same way? Taken it from them? Or did you only do it because it was me? Because you knew you could?”
“How can you possibly expect me to answer that? I’m here because of my mom. But no matter what I say, either you’re not going to believe me or you’re going to hate me more than you already do.”
“Well, you sure are right about that. We’re staying, Ford. And in one week, after we’re done with this dig, you’ll never see me again.”
Chapter
Twenty
Getting your ass handed to you sure sucked.
Not that Ford expected anything different from Corrie Mejía. The woman had fire—and self-respect. A few hours into the dig the following morning and her position was loud and clear: Ford better back the fuck up and stay away.
He gave her space those next few days. Took his meals alone in his tent. Helped at the bowl dig site while Corrie, Sunny, and Ethan focused on the cave. Sunny and Ethan didn’t ask questions, at least not of Ford. Who knew what Corrie had told them. But if she’d told them the entire truth, that was fine with him. They deserved to know. Everyone deserved to know what a terrible person he’d been. Because Corrie was right—as much as he wanted to convince himself that he’d done this for his mom, there were other ways he could have helped her without compromising his integrity.
Or breaking Corrie’s heart.
His own heart ached whenever he looked at her. Thought about what they could have had together. Remembered what it was like to touch the warmth of her skin. Remembered what it was like to feel love—real love. Love from his equal.
Except he wasn’t Corrie’s equal. She wasn’t a snake like him. A liar.
They kept what they were doing at the cave under wraps, trekking to the site in circuitous ways and never together. Despite everything, they still had a thief lurking about, and Ford had his sights set on Guiles. Maybe Vautour wasn’t concerned about it, but Ford sure was. They had what he wanted, and then some. The last thing they needed was for someone to skedaddle with the knife four days before they went home.
He considered talking to Lance about it to see if he could reason with Vautour. But reasoning with a blackmailer seemed like a waste of time. After all, to Vautour, Ford was nothing more than an insignificant pillock. What did he care if he destroyed Ford’s life?
Answer: he didn’t.
Ford and the rest of the bowl crew returned to the camp long before the cave crew. While the others went about their afternoons, Ford sat outside his tent, watching them carrying on without a care in the world. What he wouldn’t give to be in their shoes. To focus on the dig without the backdrop of a sick mother or a blackmailing boss. Would he ever go back to being someone like that? To smiling? To being happy?
To finding love?
He shook away the thought. How could he expect anyone to love him when this was the kind of person he’d become?
“Hey, Ford,” Ethan called out as he, Sunny, and Corrie emerged from the jungle. Dirty. Wet. And laughing and smiling.
Well, at least Corrie had been smiling. Her mouth quickly turned down at the sight of Ford.
“Hey, guys,” he responded, straightening up on the porch as they approached. “How are things going out there?”
No matter how hard he tried, his gaze kept wandering to Corrie’s, though she never made eye contact. A shell of Corrie stood in front of him. Empty and mentally absent.
“Good, good,” Ethan said. “We’re making great time. We’ll definitely be able to hit your goal, maybe even a day or two early.”
Ford tilted his head. “My goal?”
“Yeah, Corrie told us how you wanted to surprise everyone and wrap up by the end of the week so we could all finally get home. Everyone’s going to be stoked when you tell them. Thanks, Ford,” Ethan said, completely oblivious to reality.
Ford shot a glance at Corrie, catching her eye for an instant before she looked away. She’d lied. Lied to protect them. Protect them like he’d tried to do. At least she’d been successful. Ford had failed miserably at protecting anyone.
“That’s great,” Ford said, forcing his voice to keep up the facade.
“You should see it, Dr. Matthews. The bones are in excellent condition because they were protected by the cave. And we found some clothing fragments,” Sunny said, hardly able to contain her excitement.
It did sound exciting. Despite what Corrie had accused him of, he did actually care about archaeology and not just the money. But there was no way he could work in such close proximity to Corrie. Meaning there was no way she’d allow it.
“Awesome,” Ford responded, trying his best to feign his composure.
“It also appears that Mendoza may have been the one who got Yaretzi and their child sick,” Ethan added.
Ford cocked his head. “Mendoza? But didn’t Mendoza write about them settling in another village?”
“Well, according to the wall drawings, they caught something from Mendoza. Look,” Ethan said, pulling a camera out of his bag and handing it to Ford to scroll through the digital photos. Close-ups of the murals. The paintings unmistakably depicted a sick man—a Spaniard. Chimalli’s family nursing the man back to health. And becoming sick themselves. “He must have lied about it to cover his guilt. I mean, clearly they didn’t live out their days in another village.”
“Yeah, like his later accountings were his atonement. Let them live forever through his words,” Sunny chimed in.
Atonement. What would Ford’s atonement be? A lifetime of unhappiness without someone to share it with as punishment for the devastation he’d caused others?
“I know you probably want to be down there, too,” Sunny continued, pulling Ford out of his thoughts. “But I really appreciate you encouraging Dr. Mejía to bring me for the learning experience.”