Page 7

Chapter Six

F ifty minutes later, William and I found Andrew in the lobby near the exit, talking on a phone. He noticed us and nodded to follow him outside, his iPhone pressed to his ear. “They’re here,” he said to whoever was on the other side of the line. “Kiss Lulu for me.” He ended the call and slid the phone into his pants pocket.

“I’m sorry we’re late,” I said.

“Next time, I’m docking your delay from the agreed-on price.”

“Hey, don’t be a dick to her.” William dabbed his sweaty forehead with a napkin. “I couldn’t find the sunscreen.”

We stopped at an old, red Jeep Wrangler. Andrew hoisted my luggage into the back of the car next to his bag.

“Is this our ride?” William stepped back and scrutinized the open-top car.

“Yes.” The muscles in Andrew’s back strained against his shirt as he reached for William’s first suitcase. I knew I should turn away and not stare. But I didn’t want to. “Is it a problem?”

“Well, yeah.” William deadpanned. “With all the money you’re throwing around, this is what you rented?”

“Dr. Garcia let me borrow it.”

“Oh Jessezzz. Too much sun. I need my hat if we’re going without a roof.” William pressed his fingers to his temples. “I just don’t remember which bag it’s in.”

Andrew took the next bag and piled it on top of the others. “You’d better hurry and check.”

William closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. To avoid ogling Andrew’s despicable forearms as he secured ratchet straps around our bags, I climbed into the passenger seat and waited for William to inevitably discover that he hadn’t brought a hat.

“Shoot,” William muttered. “I didn’t bring one.”

There it was.

“I can’t go without a hat.”

“You’re welcome to stay here. I’ll pay.” Andrew got into the driver’s seat and slid the key into the ignition.

“Tempting, but you know I can’t do that.” With pleading eyes, William glanced between me and the hotel. “The resort store opens at ten. We can get a hat there.”

I turned to Andrew. “We’re already late. What’s another thirty minutes? He needs a hat.”

Andrew’s eyes bored into mine, and his jaw ticked. He groaned, got out of the car, and marched towards a group of workers trimming flowering bushes. After a short exchange, he pulled his wallet out and handed them cash.

“Oh no,” William whispered. “He is not doing what I think he’s doing.”

“It looks like it.” I smiled.

Andrew returned to the car with a gardener’s straw hat in hand.

“Here you go. A hat.” He held it to William.

William shook his head. “I’m not wearing it. Are you mad? It’s dirty and has someone else’s sweat and oils on it.”

Andrew pulled a cotton handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to William. “It’s clean. Wear it underneath the hat. Please work with me. Once we get to the town. You can buy a new one.”

“Freaking Mr. Darcy,” William groused. “Who in this century carries a hanky?”

With an exaggerated sigh, my brother unfolded the handkerchief and placed it on his head. I swallowed the laugh that wanted to burst out of me. If I laughed, we weren’t leaving until the store opened. Cringing, William turned the hat a few times and then set it on his head.

“I should get a cut of your money for doing this.” He pointed at me and climbed into the back seat.

The car came alive with a loud roar, and Andrew wheeled it out of the hotel parking lot onto a busy road.

“How long is the drive?” I placed my sunglasses on, grateful I’d applied SPF 50 all over my body.

“If everything goes well, we should be there by three,” Andrew said, paying attention to cars zooming by. He changed gears, and the Jeep made a choking noise.

“Aren’t you worried this car… um… won’t make it far? Did you hear that struggling sound?” I asked and pulled a chunk of my hair out of my mouth. One of the things I didn’t like about cars like this was the constant whipping of my hair around my face and then arriving at the destination with a bird’s nest of frizzy hair. I pulled my purse onto my lap and rummaged inside for a hair tie.

“Not at all.” Andrew pulled the Jeep onto the highway, and the wind worsened as the car accelerated.

I made a messy bun on my head, certain that my presentation wasn’t the prettiest, but I wasn’t here to impress anybody. I was here to help to find a priceless treasure… or whatever.

It was hard to carry on a conversation with constant noise around us, so for four hours we drove without exchanging a single word. At a small gas station, we used the dirty bathroom, where I had to drop paper towels on the floor to protect my shoes as I edged to a questionable hole in the ground with flies buzzing above it.

Before we continued, Andrew bought us lunch wrapped in banana leaves from a food cart next to a thatched house. Colombian tamales were out of this world delicious. Flavors of braised salty pork, potatoes, and carrots swaddled in sweet masa danced on my tongue. I wished I’d asked for two.

At three thirty in the afternoon, Andrew made the last turn, and we entered the center of a town with cobblestoned streets lined with buildings painted with vibrant murals, bright flowers on windows and by front doors, a few outdoor cafés, and a couple of bars—judging by neon beer logos. Andrew parked in a quiet, sleepy alley and turned off the engine.

“I’ll go to the museum alone.” Andrew pushed his sunglasses off his face to the top of his head. “If I need you, I’ll call you. Please keep your phone on.”

“Can you just text me?” I said. “I don’t get charged for incoming texts.”

“If I message you, I won’t know if you got it or not. I’d like to call you. I’ll reimburse you for any expense.” Andrew grabbed a small notebook and flashlight out of the center console and jumped out of the car, before veering around the corner.

“I need a stiff drink,” William said, wafting the hat in front of his face. “That drive was so not good for my skin.” He gently touched his cheek and then glanced at his finger. “So much dirt. My pores are crying right now.”

“And a drink will help you how?” I unfastened the buckle and twisted in my seat to face him. I needed to stretch my legs too, but we couldn’t leave our stuff unattended in the car.

“It will numb my immense disappointment about this trip.”

“I thought you were having fun.” I arched an eyebrow.

“I was wrong.”

“Someone needs to stay here,” I said. “If Andrew calls, I’ll have to go to the church, so that leaves only you. Your drink has to wait.”

William pooched his lips. “Fine, but can we sneak out for a second and take a selfie in front of the church? I thought we could post a reel about this trip later.”

Our surroundings appeared safe and clean, and the houses had no iron bars on windows or doors. I guessed it wouldn’t hurt.

For the late afternoon, the town seemed very quiet, with a few people outside and practically no cars on the road. I wandered to the middle of the road and snapped a picture of San Sierra’s main square. The orange Iglesia San Antonio, with pieces of plaster crumbling off in some places, dazzled against the green mountain with a rounded top. A row of bright-colored colonial buildings with intricate carvings stretched on each side of the cathedral. Minus a few mopeds parked along the street, it resembled one of Augustine’s pencil drawings we’d seen at the museum.

“This is the place Pérez sketched.” I stared at the photo. William lifted his sunglasses and squinted at my phone. I zoomed in. “I recognize all the buildings and the church.”

“I thought the one in the museum looked like the cathedral in Cartagena.”

“I’m telling you it’s the exact place. I can prove it.”

I swiped my screen until I found the photo of the pencil drawing. It was remarkable. The details were so vivid it could easily pass for a black-and-white photo. Next, I opened the Layout app, selected the sketch with the church, and then picked the last photo I took. I arranged one atop the other for comparison.

“See. It’s the same.” I glanced up at the church.

Did Andrew know about it? Was that why he’d picked this place to find a clue? Andrew said he and Dr. Garcia had talked about a collection of letters and diaries in the church’s museum, but he hadn’t mentioned this drawing. Should I tell him that Augustine had sketched this place anyway? It could mean nothing, of course. Maybe Augustine always sketched places he had been to or that were dear to his heart.

“What if his sketches had a special message?”

William shrugged. “It’s just a drawing.”

He must have been really worn out after a five-hour drive in the sun to be so disinterested. It was his idea to go on this treasure hunt in the first place, and here I was searching for hidden meanings in old artwork.

My phone rang with an unfamiliar phone number.

“Yeeeellow,” I answered and ambled to the sidewalk.

“Can you come to the church right now?” Andrew said.

“Okey-dokey.” I hung up. “I’m summoned.”

“Okay.” William smiled, but his shoulders slumped. “I’ll be guarding our stuff in the car.” I didn’t miss the hint of sadness in his voice.

“Are you okay, handsome?” I asked gently.

“Yes. Just tired. Go. Dr. Hot Bod is waiting for you.”

I landed a kiss on his cheek and made my way to find Andrew, my chest aching with worry that something was off with William.

The church’s massive door didn’t open when I pulled on it. I yanked on the handle again. Nothing. How in the world was I supposed to meet Andrew inside if the doors were locked? I pulled my phone out of my purse and was about to dial the previous number when Andrew stepped out from behind the corner of the building and beckoned me.

I hurried to him. “The doors are?—”

Andrew grabbed my hand and pulled me through the wooden gates into a cool, shadowy, narrow alley. He shut the door behind us. “Church is closed today,” he said in a low tone.

“Why are we whispering?” I spoke in a hushed voice too.

“We’re not supposed to be here.”

I was afraid he would say that. “I’m getting a feeling you’re often in places where you shouldn’t be. Should we come back tomorrow?”

“No.” We trotted along the building, his hand holding mine, my long legs barely keeping up with his strides.

“Jesus, what’s the rush?”

“I don’t want anyone to notice us.” He stopped at steps covered in moss and vines with tiny green leaves, leading to a door the size of a compact refrigerator I used to have in my college dorm. “We go through this door.”

I assessed Andrew’s tall frame. He wasn’t a gigantic man, but his shoulders were twice as wide as the opening, and his height was enormous.

“Are you going to fit through?” I pulled my hand out of his grip. “I’m five eleven. You’re what? Six five?”

“Six six.” He gestured to the entrance. “Ladies first.”

“Is it even open?” I descended the four steps, and as I got closer to the door, the fresh fragments of broken wood near the handle were my answer. “Ignore that,” I said over my shoulder. What had I gotten myself into? If we were arrested, my story would be that Andrew was a deranged man who had kidnapped me.

I swooped my skirt up before squatting, pushing the door open, and crawling inside. Andrew followed me as soon as I squeezed through the door frame and we crammed into a small room with weak daylight streaming through a lancet stained-glass window far above. Shrouded in darkness, the space was jammed with rolled banners, stacks of candles, boxes, books, and now two figures that shouldn’t have been there.

“Are we searching for anything in particular here?” I peered at the stacked boxes. “Should we check these?”

“No. It’s with Jorge Pérez.”

“What is it ? And how do you know?”

“It’s my job to know.”

“You said the same thing about the bracelet, and yet you haven’t taken it off, and you couldn’t open the chest, and?—”

He scowled at me, and I didn’t need much light to properly see his unappreciative expression. “On the way here, I kept thinking about the last notes Dr. Garcia gave me. Jorge was so loyal to his brother, he wouldn’t allow anybody to see his journal. He said he took all Augustine’s secrets to his grave.” Andrew pulled a door ajar and peeked through the gap. After a few seconds, he opened it wider, and we slipped outside the room.

The musty yet floral old church scent enveloped us as we passed through a narrow, windowless hall and stepped out into the nave. I wasn’t very religious, but I always loved the smell of burnt candles and the woody scent of frankincense.

The church was quiet with not a soul in sight. Well, maybe it was full of souls, but they were invisible and mute. Andrew moved quickly to the right, and I shadowed him. He turned after the first column, briefly stopping and looking back, then slid behind it. Jeez, so much suspense. I rolled my eyes and kept after him, my heels making a low clunking noise that echoed from stone wall to stone wall and rose to a vault.

“Christ.” Andrew turned and looked at my feet.

“What?” I stepped back.

“Could you make any more noise?”

“What would you suggest?” I said, frowning. “I go barefoot?”

He raised his eyebrows and a smile played on his lips.

“Seriously? Nobody is here.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You said it’s closed today.”

“It doesn’t mean people aren’t here.”

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes again and pulled my shoes off.

Under the judgmental gaze of stone statues, we continued down the corridor, my feet quiet on the cold marble floor. Andrew stopped in a hall with crypts on both sides. He ran his fingers over words that were carved into the stone, brushing away cobwebs from some places. Then, out of his back pocket, he pulled his notebook. He leafed through it, his eyes lingering on one page longer than the others. He glanced up at the wall, then back at his notes, and finally said, “This is it.”

I moved next to him and peered at the crypt wall. It had engravings with swirls and flowers, something written in Spanish, and the dates 1733–1785. The concrete surface had minimal cracks and a brighter color than the surrounding areas. “It doesn’t look ancient in comparison to the neighboring stones. It seems like someone tried to stain it so it would appear to be weathered.”

“I noticed that too.” Andrew pocketed his notebook. “I’m afraid someone seems to have beaten us here.”

“What do we do now?”

Andrew checked his watch, then walked toward the end of the corridor and picked up a large standing candelabra. He returned with it and jerked his head to the side. “Step back.”

I moved away several feet. “What are?—”

The church bells thundered, and he swung the candelabra wide and hit the stone right in the center, across Jorge’s name. My heart jumped to my throat. The loud bang racketed from wall to wall and in my ears. And he’d complained about my shoes? The man had lost his mind.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I whisper-yelled at him. “What if someone hears us?”

The bells rang again, and Andrew swung and landed another hard whack. I turned to see if anybody was running in our direction.

After another hit, the stone gave way, and a small opening appeared. Andrew grinned and brought one last good blow to the wall as the bells tolled a fourth time. A large piece of the crypt fell, landing next to his feet. He lowered the candelabra and tore the rest of the pieces with his hands, creating a considerable opening.

Out of his front pocket, he fished out a small flashlight and peered inside the hole. “That’s what I thought.”

“What is it?” My heart hammered just as loud as the racket Andrew had created seconds ago. I inched closer to him, but his massive shoulders blocked my view. A new draught wheezed around us, its ghostly fingers pulling on my loose hair strands.

He straightened his back, and his lips curved into a sly smile. “Do you know what happens next?”

“We go to prison?” I hissed at him.

Andrew harrumphed. “I hope you don’t mind skinny bald guys with a toothy smile.”

I drew my eyebrows together. Had he lost his marbles?

He gave me a sideway glance, then stepped away. “Ladies first.”

What the hell was he talking about?

He motioned with his hand to the hole.

No . No freaking way.

Eyes wide, I backed away until my back pressed against an opposite crypt wall. A chill ran down my spine, either from the cold touch of a stone or the thought of…

“You aren’t suggesting what I think you’re suggesting. Crawl inside of that?”

“There’s an opening on the other side. It’s a passage.”

“Passage to where?”

“The only way to find out is to…” He pointed the flashlight at the hole and made a low whistle. “If I go first, you’ll never follow me. So, you go first, and I follow.”

He is a lunatic.

“I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Yes, you did, when you agreed to come with me.”

A good whack with that candelabra on his head would serve him right, if I could manage to lift it. I exhaled sharply as I slipped my wedges back on. I stepped towards Andrew, so close his body heat radiated through my clothes. Andrew was too tall for me to stare him squarely in the eye, even in my three-inch heels, so I shot a peeved glare up at him, pressing my finger into his hard chest. His stupid grin fell, leaving only that permanent smirk tugging at his lips.

“I don’t like you at all.” I yanked the flashlight out of his hand and leaned in to check out the black gap.

night·mar·ish | ?nīt?meriSH |

ADJECTIVE: The next disturbing and bothersome minutes crawling through a dark crypt over a skeleton while not dying to do it and wishing you had a few or five tequila shots beforehand.

ORIGIN: Iglesia San Antonio.

The crypt was deeper than I thought. I didn’t know what I’d imagined, but this one was at least ten feet long. On the opposite side from me, there was an opening, but I had to creep over a dead guy covered in ancient dust and cobwebs. I wasn’t afraid of bones. Life was full of alive people that I had to worry about every day, so I didn’t believe the dead could haunt or hurt me. But still. It was beyond creepy. And disrespectful.

I tossed my purse in and poked my head inside, but then stopped. After this, my white dress was a goner. There was no way to clean the crap that was about to get on it. I groaned inwardly.

“Don’t follow me until I tell you. I don’t want you to turn into a peeping Tom. And you’re buying me a new dress.”

Andrew’s laugh was short and deep. “If we find Augustine’s treasure, I’ll buy you hundreds of dresses.”

I moved the flashlight around to ensure there weren’t any tarantulas or rats. “I thought you didn’t do this job for money.”

“Octavian Global pays me a small percentage of the total value of the find.”

It must have been nice to live a life where you get paid for a fun adventure, and my guess, it was a nice payment too. But this type of life wasn’t for me. With my old job I traveled a lot, but after doing it for ten years it got tiring to never be in the same place, never having a chance to make my home feel like an actual home, decorate it with more than just the novels I’d picked up at airport bookstores over the years. Maybe even get a pet. I’d always wanted a cat, but it would’ve been unfair for it to be left alone for days or weeks.

I pushed my shoulders deep into the cool space, holding the flashlight in one hand and moving cobwebs with another. A musty and damp soil smell replaced the fragrant church one. I crawled farther, my hands and legs spread over the skeleton, my knees painfully pressed into small rocks. I hit my head on the ceiling a couple of times before I faced Jorge’s shocked expression, his mouth agape.

“Yeah, buddy,” I mumbled. “I’m just as surprised as you are to find myself on top of you. Don’t get a boner. Okay?”

“Who are you talking to?” Andrew’s voice sounded way too close. I glanced over my shoulder. Andrew was staring at me.

“Andrew!” I snapped. “I told you not to look.”

His face disappeared out of my view. “Sorry.”

I reached the end of the crypt, now the skull happily faced up my skirt between my spread legs. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined myself in this odd and sickening position. Whatever was at the end of this tunnel had better have all the treasure. I was done with this adventure. Of course, the end of the journey meant the end of the payments. But how much more of this outlawish behavior could I take? It was always fun and games until someone had to go to prison. Was my business worth going to jail? In Colombia?

I waved the flashlight in the darkness, the light running over a curved stone-walled tunnel that disappeared into shadow.

“What do you see?” Andrew asked.

“An arched passage leading somewhere, but I can’t see exactly what’s there.”

“I’m coming. Move.”

I shone the light down to check how far the ground was. I was about five feet off the floor and couldn’t go forward without completely nosediving. Literally .

“Give me a minute,” I said.

Like a cat in an empty tight box, I twisted to the side, accidentally pushing on the skull. It made a crunching sound. “Oops.”

I pulled my knees close to my body, shifted to my left, turned, and finally pointed my ass in the right direction. Andrew’s face was on the same level with mine, our noses practically touching.

“Hi, you,” he said, not letting go of my gaze.

“Hi.”

His gaze did a slow sweep over my face again, stopping a second too long on my lips, and then finally went up to my eyes. My heart skipped a beat. Stupid heart.

“You’re in my way,” he said teasingly, his breath mingled with mine.

I moved backward with the speed of light, carefully finding the floor with my feet, then finally getting out of the crypt. I shook my arms and head, trying to shake off the creepy feeling that I was in a tomb and the buzzing feeling that Andrew awoke in me when he stared at my lips. I pushed my hair off my face, along with several nasty cobwebs.

Somehow Andrew had no problem reaching the floor with his long arms and walking out on his hands until he’d completely pulled his body out.

“I can’t believe I crawled over a skeleton,” I said. “You should be ashamed of damaging the crypt’s wall and ruining a piece of history.”

“I’ll send them an anonymous donation as an apology.” Andrew rose to his feet and gestured for me to pass him his flashlight. He neared where the tunnel turned and stopped. “There’s a staircase.”

“Of course, there is.” I groaned, pulling the strap of my purse onto my shoulder.