Into the Fray (Daring Escapes #3) - Margaret Daley Page 0,6

people plunder the ruins and destroy valuable artifacts. We’re close. We’ve already done a lot of the hard work.”

He started to push himself away from the wall when Tory touched his arm to stop him. He paused, his gaze veering to her hand on him.

She quickly dropped it to her side. "Some of the research I’ve delved into leads me to believe a group of people before the Mayans and Aztecs possibly could have settled in this area. They created a civilization that peacefully existed for hundreds of years. Because they were mostly peaceful, in the end, that caused their downfall. At first, I thought this was a minor dig that might give me more information about the Star People.”

Guerrero’s eyes widened; his forehead crinkled.

“That’s the name I gave them as I dug into my research. Now I'm convinced much more is going on here. I can feel it. Please. I’ll pay top wages." She paused, swallowed several times to ease the tightness in her throat. "I need your help." It was hard for her to admit that. From her childhood, she’d been determined to do everything by herself. Her father never allowed anything less than that.

"I'd better get you back to your hotel." He started forward, ignoring her plea. She couldn't even find the strength to push herself away from the wall. She felt very alone as Guerrero moved away from her. Vulnerable. Frightened more than she ever had been in her life. "Guerrero."

He paused but didn't look back.

"Please help me."

Slowly, as though every muscle was controlled with extreme effort, he turned toward her, absolutely no expression on his face. "I can't." But hesitance sounded in his voice.

She recognized when it was too late to sway him. She bit down on her lower lip, determined not to ask why, determined not to plea again. She shoved away from the wall and began to follow him. Her thoughts churned with different possible solutions to her problem, none offering any real answers to her current troubles. Tomorrow she would go back to the dig empty-handed unless she could find someone else with Guerrero's qualifications. But even if she couldn't find someone, which according to Juan she wouldn't, she couldn't give up and let whoever was trying to scare her win. Something big was going on, and she intended to discover what it was.

She glanced around at more people on the street, so she might be able to get a cab. "I can call a taxi," she said when Guerrero indicated she climb into a beat-up looking Jeep.

The man tossed back his head and laughed—although it sounded strained. "Really? Do you fancy yourself in New York City waiting to hail a taxicab?”

She glared at him, picturing piranhas feasting on him. "I wouldn't want to put you to any more trouble. I'd hate to tarnish your fine reputation."

"I doubt anything that you could do would put a dent in my armor."

The sparkle in his dark brown eyes ignited her temper as a match would do to the drought-infested prairie where she’d grown up. "Armor? You're too kind to yourself." She grabbed the handle and yanked the door open.

The drive to the hotel was done in tension-fraught silence. Tory couldn't wait to hop from the Jeep the second he pulled up to the front. She didn't bother to say thank you, drop dead, or anything else. She hurried into the lobby, acutely aware of Guerrero's gaze following her retreat. It shivered up her spine, making her steps quicken.

A few minutes later, she was in the safety of her room where she sank onto the bed, exhausted mentally and physically. She called Juan and told him Guerrero wouldn’t agree to help her. Again, Juan said it had been a longshot, and he couldn’t come up with anyone else who would be reliable. After hanging up, she didn't even undress. Instead, she curled up on the bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

Hands clawed at her, tearing at her clothes. She tried to get away, but a pair of arms locked about her, pinning her back against a solid chest. Blood pulsed through her at a dizzying speed. She felt lightheaded, almost as though she were two separate entities, one observing the other. The foul odor of sweat and alcohol swirled about her as she pushed against the arms holding her. A distorted face, twisted, scarred like an old piece of leather, loomed in front of her, a sneer of contempt curling his mouth. The face moved