Page 4

He’s not going to come.

Miri twirled her gin and tonic in her hands, wiping the condensation down the glass. Could this day get any worse? Muddy bus splatter. Flashing a hottie. Nervous oversharing. Finding out the hottie she’d flashed, overshared with, and lied to was somehow a participant on this expedition, while pouring a cup of brown goo all over her hiking boots. God, those are gonna reek in a few days. That was all pretty bad. Then, getting completely ambushed by Corrie into being a co-lead on this excursion?

And now getting stood up? She had to be breaking records on terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days here.

Even taking the whole Moon City expedition out of the equation, the fact that Rafa had asked to meet for a drink in the first place was still mind-boggling. He , someone who by the look of things must succeed in the dating department, had asked her , someone whose dating prowess could be summed up as went on numerous impressively bad dates—several years ago—and not a single one since . Though… was it a date? Officially? Maybe Rafa’d been asking out of politeness, seeing as they were staying in the same hotel and all.

Miri closed her eyes and shuddered. Riiiiiiiight . That makes more sense. A pity invite.

One thing was certain: he hadn’t bothered confirming their “date” before departing the team meeting. Not that she could blame him. She’d barely looked at him throughout that entire disaster of a dinner, unwilling to acknowledge that they knew each other. After avoiding Rafa for the evening, of course he wouldn’t think she’d show. No, he’d flown out of there like a bat out of the Amazon—much like Miri wished she could do.

The barstool next to her scooted out, and Miri’s heart kicked up a notch—only to realize it wasn’t Rafa.

“Hey, Anissa,” she said, dejected.

“Ouch. Nice to see you, too,” Anissa said, taking the seat next to her.

“Sorry, I was just…” Getting stood up? “Never mind.” It was too embarrassing to say it out loud.

“Well, don’t worry. I’m not staying. The minibar in my room wasn’t stocked, so I’m grabbing a couple provisions.” Anissa waved down the bartender and placed her order—a few bottles of red and a bottle of cachaca. “I’m stocking up for later,” she clarified.

Miri smiled and shrugged. “Hey, I don’t judge.”

“And this is why we are friends,” Anissa said, stealing a sip from Miri’s drink while she waited. “Drowning your sorrows?”

“What do you mean?”

“Corrie’s announcement? You looked a bit deer-in-the-headlights up there.”

“Oh…that.” Sigh. Was it that obvious? “Yes, I mean, no. Deer in the headlights, yes. Drowning my sorrows? Not exactly.” Not how Anissa intended the question, at least.

“So you’re excited, then?” Anissa said. “Personally, I think it’s awesome. You’ve always wanted to lead an expedition.” She snacked on a couple of cocktail peanuts sitting in a dish on the bar like it was no big deal.

Because, yeah, leading—co-leading—an expedition to a lost city was nothing. Not when you’d never even led an excursion into a metropark, let alone the freaking Amazon rainforest.

Miri wasn’t ready for this responsibility. She’d never been the lead on a dig—or any job for that matter. Even her invitation for this assignment was a result of being Corrie’s mentee. And now Corrie was throwing her to the wolves—Dr. Bradley Quinn.

She’d heard plenty of things about Dr. Quinn. Assertive. Skilled. Genius.

In other words, the opposite of Miri. How was she supposed to get her voice heard over Dr. Quinn’s? Miri was no Corrie Mejía.

She dropped a cocktail peanut down her shirt, and it skated right by her B cups—okay, okay , A cups—and straight through to the floor.

Yeah…she was nothing like Corrie Mejía.

“Yeah, no, it’s great,” Miri said. Unconvincingly, by the skeptical look on Anissa’s face.

“Miri, we’ve known each other for, what? Seven years? I can tell when you’re bullshitting me.”

“I’m not bullshitting! Seriously. I’m genuinely excited!” Miri proclaimed with every ounce of bubbly energy she could muster. “See? I’m celebrating.” She lifted her glass and took another sip. “Mm-mm. So pumped.”

Anissa laughed. “You are such a bad liar.”

Miri’s shoulders sank. “Fine. I was waiting for someone, but it looks like I got stood up.” She twirled the glass in her hands again.

A devilish smile formed on Anissa’s face. “Ooooh, girl! Now that’s what I’m talking about! Are you getting your freak on before we hole up in the jungle?” Anissa stuck out her tongue and waggled her brow.

But like she’d said—they’d known each other for seven years. Anissa should know by now that Miri did not get her freak on. Not now. And certainly not in the time they’d been friends.

“Ah, yes, because you know me. So much freaking happening.”

“Gah!” Anissa said, excitedly yanking on Miri’s arm. “It’s about time! My girl’s finally gonna pop her cherry.”

“I’m not a virgin, Anissa,” Miri said, tipping her head down and folding her arms.

Anissa pursed her lips and raised her brow. “Could have fooled me.”

Miri would have protested had Anissa not already been well aware that Miri suffered from a chronic case of no-date-itis.

“So when did you have time to meet this mystery man?” Anissa continued. “Didn’t you just get here this afternoon?”

“I met him at the airport.”

Simple. Truthful. That’s all she needed to say.

“And he ended up in Manacapuru, too?” Anissa cocked her head to the side.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter, because clearly he’s not going to—” Movement caught her attention in the mirror behind the bar. Rafa. “You came,” she said into the reflection and not to Rafa walking up behind her.

“So did you.” He pulled out the stool to the other side of her, opposite Anissa, whose lips pulled in a tight line, clearly dying to say something, and he motioned for the bartender as Miri’s heart rate increased. She stared at his strong profile, accentuated by the soft hue of the red lights overhead. Thank God for this lighting and its ability to mask her blushing, because seeing him up close again sent a fire roaring over her skin. Especially with the cat-ate-the-canary look Anissa was tossing her way.

Anissa shifted her eyes back and forth between the two of them, anticipating Miri’s acknowledgment that he was the one she was waiting for. Thankfully, their seven-year friendship also afforded them the ability to speak with eyebrows only, and Miri used hers to signal, yes, now please get the hell out of here .

The bartender came over with Anissa’s order to go, then turned to Rafa.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” he said, gesturing toward Miri. The bartender gave a quick nod, then walked away to prepare the drink.

“And I’ll take this as my cue to leave. Have fun, you two,” Anissa said, barely able to keep that goofy-ass grin off her face.

Just as Anissa turned away, Miri addressed her one last time by eyebrows— I’m going to kill you.

Anissa simply blew her a kiss, then whisked off toward the hotel lobby. Leaving Miri and Rafa in awkward silence.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Miri said once Anissa had gone.

“And I half expected you to be on a plane back to the States right now,” Rafa responded.

She winced.

“Can we not talk about that?” she asked.

“You mean not now, or never?”

“Give me a few minutes at least.”

The bartender slid a drink in front of Rafa and he picked it up, raising it to Miri. “All right. Shall we drink to something, then?”

She picked up her glass. “To fanny packers anonymous.”

He wryly chuckled. “To fanny packers anonymous.”

They toasted and took sips in unison. Awkward silence then settled between them. So many questions swirled through her head. Questions about who he was. Questions about who she was, as if he held the answers. Questions about what they were doing there. In the bar, that was. On a…date?

“I take it you’re not actually a backpack consultant?” He broke the ice with a smile, instantly calming Miri’s nerves.

Miri laughed and ducked her head. “Oh jeez, was that a ridiculous response or what?”

“You had me convinced for a minute there. Who knows? It might be a real job. Someone’s got to test out backpacks, right?”

Miri put her hand on his arm, which sent a jolt through her body. “See? I’m right, aren’t I? It has to be a real job.”

“But not your job.” He tipped his head to her with a knowing look in his eye.

“Correct. Not my job. So then…should I assume you’re not here meeting your uncle and cousins?”

“Also correct. Although, my mother was Brazilian, so that part was true.”

“What is it that you do? What is it that you’re going to be doing on the expedition, I mean?” She leaned forward and propped up her head with her arm resting on the bar.

“I’m a journalist for Global Geography . I’m supposed to document this expedition from start to finish.”

“And when we met, had you already learned what you’d signed up for? For the”—she leaned in and brought her voice to a whisper—“search for the Lost City of the Moon?”

He took another sip. “Yes, I knew. But I was told not to tell a soul.”

“Same. Though I had no idea that I’d—” His eyebrow quirked, and she paused. No. She didn’t want to talk about that. Not yet. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“You don’t need to apologize. We were in the same boat. And if it makes you feel better, I didn’t want to lie to you.”

Warmth washed over her cheeks. “I didn’t want to lie to you, either.”

“Well, at least we’re not a couple of dirtbags, then, who get off on lying to other people.”

“Unless that’s a lie, too,” she said.

He smirked. “Fair point. Okay…ask me anything and I promise to tell the truth.”

“How will I know if you’re lying?”

Rafa shifted in his seat, like he was suddenly uncomfortable. “You won’t. You’ll have to use your intuition.”

Miri laughed to herself. Her intuition? Ha. Her intuition hadn’t thought he’d show.

Though she had sensed something wasn’t quite right when he’d said he was in Brazil visiting family after that long pause in the taxi.

“All right. How long have you worked for Global Geography ?”

“Seven years.”

“Have you ever been on an expedition like this before?”

“Exactly like this? No. But I’ve been assigned to plenty of unusual and somewhat secretive jobs.”

“Such as?”

“Let’s see…” he said, looking up to recall and keeping count on his fingers. “An ivory-poaching story in Africa. A climate change piece down in the Antarctic. A prehistoric settlement discovered in northern Europe.”

“Where were you born?”

He looked at her. “S?o Paulo.”

“But you live in the States?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really French-Canadian?”

This time he paused for a moment to take a sip. “Oui,” he said.

“Say something else in French so I know.”

“Do you understand French?”

“No. But I think I’ll be able to tell.”

“Okay,” he said, moving closer and never taking his eyes off her. “J’aimerais pouvoir vous emmener dans ma chambre.”

She hadn’t the slightest clue what he’d said, but it didn’t matter. Hearing the words roll off his lips sent a tingling sensation down to her core. Get a grip, Miri . Oh, but she’d gotten a grip all right. She clenched her thighs as if holding the wooden stool beneath her together with the tension in her legs. She pictured those soft, luscious lips next to her ear, whispering French words like oui , bonjour , and croissant against her lobe before traveling down her neck with soft wet kisses. And his large, strong hands grabbing hold of her ass, pulling her pelvis toward him. And her hips rolling against his abdomen because, dang, this man is tall. And his fingers trailing up the back of her shirt, twisting the clasp of her…

Plain, boring, navy T-shirt bra. Her gaze had fallen to his hands before she snapped back to him as she regained focus.

“Did you lie when you said you didn’t see anything when you walked in on me in the bathroom?” she asked.

He brought his hand in a fist to his mouth as he choked on a sip of his drink and cleared his throat. “Yes.”

She gulped and forced herself not to stare at his entrancing lips any longer.

“And what did you see?”

“I saw exactly what you think I saw.” She gulped again. “Now…let me ask you a few questions.”

She bit her lower lip as he stared intently at her. “Okay.” Her heart pounded. Please don’t ask what’s happening in my panties.

“How long have you been an archaeologist?”

She let out a breath. “Four years.”

“And are you still not ready to talk about what happened tonight?”

Maybe asking about her panties wouldn’t have been so bad after all. But if they were going to be stuck together for the next few weeks, she needed to get comfortable around him.

“I suppose we might as well.”

“I take it you didn’t know you’d be assigned lead?”

“Nope.”

“How do you think that happened?”

“Dr. Mejía—she’s my mentor. I think she’s trying to help me build my résumé. Give me opportunities that she didn’t have.”

“And does that frighten you?”

“It terrifies me.”

“More than seeing me across the buffet table?” His eyes homed in on her, kicking up the temperature a few thousand degrees. Not wasting any time poking the elephant in the room, I see.

“That didn’t terrify me.”

“Oh yeah? Then what was that reaction?” His finger glided along the rim of his glass.

Was he analyzing her or flirting? She’d had so few experiences flirting in recent years that she honestly couldn’t tell the difference.

“Oh, you mean the slop on the shoes? That’s my usual oh hey, good to see you again move.” She smiled, and he flashed one in return, shaking his head at her comment. “I’m sorry…I say weird things when I get nervous.”

“I quite enjoy your quirky quips. Besides, what’s there to be nervous about?”

“You know.”

He stared at her, signaling that, no, he didn’t know. Or at least he was good at playing coy. She paused, waiting to see if he would respond before asking, “I mean…what are we doing here, exactly?”

Rafa lifted his drink and twirled the glass in the air. “Appears we’re having a couple gin and tonics.”

She rolled her eyes with a playful smile. “You know that’s not what I mean. What did you think was going to happen when you invited me out for drinks earlier?” Her heart pounded in her chest at her forwardness. But she had to know.

“Well, I thought we’d be having caipirinhas, since we’re in Brazil.” His lips turned up in the corner.

“Now you’re teasing me,” she said, turning away from him.

“No, I’m trying to make you laugh. Trying to soften the terrifying blow you received this evening. You’ve got nothing to be worried about. Dr. Mejía said it herself—there’s a decent chance this entire expedition ends up a bust. No one is going to blame you if you don’t succeed.”

“Wow, you’re great at pep talks. You should be a motivational speaker. ‘Don’t worry…you’ll probably fail, but that’s okay. Gold stars for everyone!’?” she said in a voice that sounded more used-car-salesperson than motivational speaker.

“Hey, don’t knock it. I could get paid big bucks with a speech like that. And then I could afford all the fanny pack snacks in the world.”

“I told you, it’s a money belt.”

“Sure it is.” He smiled, popping a couple of cocktail peanuts into his mouth.

She couldn’t help but smile in return. “Well, thank you. If you were trying to ease my nerves, then you’ve succeeded. Partially.”

“Anytime, Pringles.”

“Am I ever going to live that one down?” she asked with a smile, finally turning back toward him.

“Nope.”

She dipped her head to hide her ridiculously wide grin. Aside from the shortened name Miri , she’d never had a nickname or a pet name. Pringles wasn’t exactly flattering, but she quite liked it, even if she’d never admit it aloud.

“What do you know about the Cidade da Lua?” he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Miri leaned back in her chair and looked up. “Oh…let’s see. I mean, I suppose the same things everyone knows—lost ancient civilization that disappeared without a trace. Supposedly the structures glimmer under moonlight. The people who lived there weren’t part of any other tribe or group. They managed to keep to themselves and avoid conflict with other people living in the Amazon and surrounding areas during that time. The rumor is that it’s because the Moon City peoples would trade their abundant riches to avoid any kerfuffle. But those riches were eventually their downfall.”

“How so?”

“Others wanted their gold and gemstones and tried to find ways to infiltrate the city, following its people home if they were ever spotted. Legend has it that slowly the people of the Moon City stopped returning to avoid detection, ultimately resulting in its abandonment.”

“Seems pretty extreme, don’t you think?” he asked.

“To us, sure. But to them, they felt their home needed to be protected. They say there are people still protecting it to this day: os protetores da lua.”

Rafa shifted in his seat when she said those words, his discomfort palpable.

“Have you heard of them?” she asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said, turning and watching her intently.

She smiled at his apparent interest in the topic. This. This was one of Miri’s favorite parts of her job. Hypothesizing with others about ancient worlds and civilizations. Talking about the people who lived there and how to honor and respect their traditions. So often Miri was left out of these conversations. Few of her colleagues ever sought her opinion.

“Oh, well, they think they’re the descendants of the people from the Moon City,” she said, excitedly. “From generation to generation, they’ve passed down the city’s secrets. Posing as tour guides and throwing unsuspecting explorers off its scent whenever they get too close—”

“Sounds like some secret grail society nonsense straight out of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade , if you ask me,” Dr. Quinn said, interrupting their conversation and sending a wave of nausea mixed with annoyance over Miri’s body.

Perfect. Just what she needed. Not that she necessarily wanted to be a lead on this expedition, co-lead or otherwise, but it probably didn’t look good that instead of studying up on the Lost City of the Moon, she was out getting drinks with the hot photojournalist.

“I was hoping to find you,” Dr. Quinn continued, sidling up not to Miri, but to Rafa.

“We’re in the middle of something,” Rafa responded, earning an internal fist pump from Miri.

“This is work related. I’m sure Miriam won’t mind the interruption.”

Miri gritted her teeth.

“Well, we were also talking about work, so if it’s work related, then why don’t we all have a seat?” Miri asked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bore you,” Dr. Quinn said. “I want to ask him about cameras and lenses.”

“I mean, that might be interesting.”

“Picked up a photography hobby in your free time?” Dr. Quinn asked.

“Does an iPhone count?”

Dr. Quinn narrowed his gaze and gave her a disapproving glance. “Let’s see what you’ve got, then,” he said, motioning toward her phone sitting face down on the bar top.

“Oh, well, I…” she said, picking up her phone and opening the photo app, trying to remember the last couple of things she took pictures of. “Um…let’s see.”

She scrolled through the photos with Dr. Quinn craning his neck over her shoulder to see. The most recent was a photo of the brown sauce on her boots.

“Very artsy,” Dr. Quinn said.

Miri made a face he couldn’t see, then moved to the next pics. One of a pretty—yet blurry—bird sitting on the wrought-iron railing on the balcony of her hotel room. Another of the folded towel swan on her bed. Then a pretend selfie of her in hotel elevator mirror that was really a ploy to capture Rafa at the lobby desk in the background before the doors closed.

She tensed, realizing Rafa could see her phone, too. She glanced at him, and he smiled—s hit —then she quickly closed out of her phone before jumping from her chair. “You know, I just remembered, I told my parents I’d call when I got here. I’d better get going.”

“You really don’t need to go,” Rafa said, also lifting from his seat, but she motioned him back down.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said as Dr. Quinn was already settling into her seat and ordering a glass of your finest red wine—but nothing over fifty Brazilian real . “I was going to head to my room to do some research anyway. Prepare for tomorrow, you know? Besides, I’ve got some Pringles calling my name.”

Rafa’s eyes pleaded for her to stay, but she knew what she had to do. If she was going to be taken seriously and ever come close to being a badass like Dr. Mejía, she needed to stop playing fantasy with Rafa.

That’s all it would ever be anyway, right? A fantasy? Sure, they seemed to hit it off like a real rom-com, but instead of the leading lady, Miri would inevitably play the role of the dorky best friend and not the one who’d get the hot guy. And she had the experience to back up that theory. Like when she’d thought she and her high school chemistry lab partner, star quarterback and homecoming king Bobby McMillan, had a connection but the only connection they actually had was the correlation between their extra study sessions and the boost in his GPA.

Surely with Rafa she’d misinterpret one of his gestures and wind up with her eyes closed and lips puckered, kissing nothing but air. She’d open her eyes and he’d be staring at her with a pitying look and say, Miri, I think you’ve got the wrong idea . And then they’d spend the next several weeks engaging in awkward small talk, all while pretending it never happened.

Things were better when Miri didn’t let her crushes crush her.

Besides, now that they were working together and now that she was lead, she needed to focus on more important things. Like figuring out what the hell she was doing.

She flashed Rafa an apologetic smile before saying her good-nights and heading up to her room. Time to concentrate. Formulate a game plan she could run by Dr. Quinn. And hopefully get a good night’s sleep.

“Senhorita,” the hotel desk clerk called out as Miri crossed the lobby approaching the stairs. “Something arrived for you this evening.”

“Me?”

The clerk nodded, then turned toward the wall of wooden mail slots, pulling out a large rigid envelope and handing it over the counter. The envelope was marked “ RUSH DELIVERY” and it was addressed to her, with the return label to Dr. Corrie Mejía in New Haven, Connecticut.

She thanked the clerk, then trudged up the two flights to her room, curious about what Corrie had sent her. Once in the privacy of her room, Miri plopped on her bed and tore open the envelope. Inside was another manila envelope with CONFIDENTIAL: For Dr. Miriam Jacobs’s eyes only in Corrie’s handwriting. The envelope had some bulk to it.

Miri glanced around her room as if she was being spied on, then got up to close the curtains before settling back onto the bed and ripping open the second envelope, revealing a handwritten letter and a small roundish object wrapped in a piece of burlap and tied with string. She held the object, judging its heft using her hands like a scale, before setting it on the bed and unfolding the letter:

Miri—

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for springing this job on you without notice. I’d wanted to tell you in advance, but you were already en route by the time plans changed. But you’re the only person we can trust to lead this expedition.

Yes, I know Dr. Quinn is also there, due to his alleged expertise on the subject. But you know I’ve never been a fan of that pompous asshat. The only reason I didn’t fight his inclusion was because I figured Ford and I would be able to put him in his place at the outset of the expedition. Unfortunately, that’s not an option now. Also unfortunately, with his expertise and background, had we not made him a co-lead, people would have been suspicious. As shitty as it is, there would have been too many questions if we made you lead on your own with your lack of lead experience.

Ouch.

But I know you can hack it, Miri. Wrapped in the cloth are instructions on how to find the Cidade da Lua and a key to its location…

Miri paused from reading the letter, and again scanned the room to confirm that this wasn’t some sort of prank or a Punk’d reboot before picking up the object and slowly untying the string around the fabric. With careful, delicate movements, she spread open the cloth, setting the piece on the bedspread. Inside was another piece of paper and a large gold medallion on a chain. Miri lifted the necklace, dangling it in front of her face. It appeared to have originally been a disc, perhaps three inches in diameter, although about a third of it had been broken off. The piece was substantial and heavy, solid gold about half an inch thick. She took the necklace over to the nightstand and flicked on the bedside lamp to inspect it. One side had carvings—a temple with a moon above it. But the other had strange holes in a random pattern. Constellations, perhaps? Or simply weathered by the elements?

Miri set the pendant on the nightstand, then unfolded the paper that was with it. Corrie wasn’t kidding—it was a list of various landmarks.

Mesa de pedra. Rocha cara de macaco. Lágrimas de jaguar. Lago de nenúfar. Trilha de árvores gigantes. Ponte de videiras. Porta do corac?o da árvore. Miri’s Portuguese was spotty, but she was pretty sure she’d pieced it together:

A stone table.

A rock that looked like the face of a monkey.

A waterfall that looked like the tears of a jaguar.

A lake of water lilies.

A trail of giant trees.

A bridge made of vines.

And a doorway through the center of a tree.

The only thing missing was a dotted line showing how to get there. This list wasn’t so much a map as it was a scavenger hunt.

No freaking way! It couldn’t be this easy.

Miri continued reading the letter from Corrie:

The investor, Eugene Larity, spent two decades searching for the Cidade da Lua, and a team under his direction found this necklace in an abandoned settlement during an expedition to the Amazon last year. Regrettably, Mr. Larity had been working with Pierre Vautour, the smarmy piece-of-shit scumbag who was responsible for the fiasco in Mexico and for those pictures of me being leaked…but I digress. He wasn’t aware of Vautour’s notoriety, and Vautour managed to steal a copy of this list.

Mr. Larity believes Vautour has invested in lidar technology to locate the Moon City now that he knows what landmarks to look for. But as I’m sure you can imagine, there are thousands of spots in the Amazon that might fit these descriptions. That’s where the medallion comes in. We don’t know how, but somehow it’s the key to finding each of the landmarks on this list. The mesa de pedra is the gateway to the Cidade da Lua. This was the trading post for the Cidade da Lua, so it’s likely located near a waterway. Find the mesa de pedra, and this medallion will point you to the Moon City.

I’m sorry I can’t give you more help. These instructions are more of a guide than a map. There’s no “X” marking the spot. Just your intuition and keen eye…

Again with her intuition.

You must find the Cidade da Lua before Vautour does. Lord knows what he’ll do if he gets his hands on it first. Tell no one about this, Miri. I mean it—no one. Vautour has spies everywhere and is an expert at manipulation. There’s no telling who he might have gotten to.

We’re counting on you. You’ve got this.

Now go kick some ass.

—Corrie

Fuck.