They rounded the cluster of pines. Logan leaned back and hauled on the reins. The horse danced sideways and stopped.
He glanced at her over his wide shoulder. How did you get to the village?
I hitched a ride partway, then hiked the rest. Her stomach growled in protest. Shed hoped to find food in the village, but the place was little more than a shelled-out ghost town. And she hadnt had a chance to eat in the bar.
He muttered something she didnt catch. Slide off, he said. He grabbed her arm, and she dropped to the ground, then stepped away from the horse in case he kicked.
Logan leaped easily down beside her, and she realized again how big he was. At five-six, she wasnt tiny, but she barely reached his chin. He looped the horses reins over a branch, then strode through the trees to a rocky outcrop, still carrying his gun. She followed more slowly, rubbing her bottom and stretching her arms.
The village squatted against the mountain beneath them, its drab mud hovels devoid of life, the rutted streets deserted except for the mules tied up by the bar. Dara scanned the surrounding hillside, studied the dirt road leading into the town, then slowly hitched out her breath. Maybe shed imagined that man following her. Maybe shed grown paranoid after that attack
in her apartment. After all, no one, except her colleague, knew where she was.
But theyd found her before, she reminded herself. Even being in protective custody after her parents murders hadnt kept her safe. And now that she knew where that sacred dagger was
She rubbed her pounding forehead, dropped her hand to the pack that contained the diagrams she had to protect. Shed have to watch, stay alert in case someone really had followed her into these hills.
Logans gaze swiveled back to hers. So, what the hell is this about?
She chose her words carefully. It was too dangerous to tell him everything, at least for now. She only hoped he didnt hear much news out here.
Im an archeologist, she said, since that was true. And Im studying Quillacocha, the lost Inca city. That was true, too.
She shifted the pack shed slung over her shoulder, met his relentless gaze. Ive heard that youre the only one who knows where it is. Id like to hire you to take me thereso I can study it, take photos of the ancient tombs.
He stared at her, his dark eyes etched with disbelief. You came all the way up here alone to see some tombs?
Her face warmed. He made her sound foolish, reckless. As if she were really the daredevil her people believed her to be.
But she couldnt tell him the truthabout the fabled dagger, the murders, the secret society that was killing the Roma worldwide. He probably wouldnt believe her if she did.
And if he did believe her, he would never take the risk to help her. Especially if he knew who she was.
Its important work, she argued. Quillacocha is the link we need to understand Incan sacrificial rites. And I only need to find out where the city is, take a few photos. It wont take much of your time. Ill come back later with a team to explore it more.
His gaze pinned hers. And its worth risking your life to see these tombs?
No, but finding the dagger was.
I didnt have time to get the permits or assemble a team, she continued. There had already been too many Gypsies killed. My colleague is working on that part. Im going to meet up with him after I locate the tombs.
He shot her a look of incredulity, disgust, then scowled down at the village again. And she knew she hadnt convinced him. But she would. She had to. More people would die if she failed.
She took in his tall, muscular build, the barely leashed power in his dominant stance. He was a tough man, a dangerous one. A man honed for battle and ready to fight.
Exactly the man she needed up here.
And the most appealing man shed ever seen.
A restless feeling hummed through her nerves. And she had a sudden urge to feel those hard biceps under her palms, stroke her hands up those muscled arms.
What would it be like to kiss him?
The thought sliced out of nowhere, shocking her, and she caught her breath. Despite her sheltered upbringing as the Roma princess, shed kissed a few men beforemostly gadžos, non-Roma shed met at school. But none of them had looked like Logan Burke.
She studied the dark, hollowed planes of his face, the black beard shadow coating his jaw, the muscles of his throat. He looked disreputable, masculine. Exciting.
His gaze swerved to hers again, and he went still. And a sudden awareness vibrated between them, touching off the same edgy, dizzy feeling that had pulsed through her in the bar.
His gaze dropped, lingering over her lips, her breasts. Her lungs seized up. She stood cemented in place, unable to breathe. Her heart nearly beat from her chest.
And his eyes turned darker, hotter, more dangerous. As if he knew what she was thinking. As if he wanted to kiss her, too.
And then he drilled his gaze into hers. Like I told you before, darlin. No way in hell. He turned on his heel, strode back to his horse.
She pulled in a tremulous breath. Ill pay you.