Beautiful Sacrifice

with you.”
    “The artifacts were taken in a drug bust at the Texas-Mexico border.”
    “Who are you?” Lina asked.
    “A man who bought you coffee. That’s all. No badges, no official inquiries, no headlines in academic magazines and reputations muddied. At least, there don’t have to be.”
    He knows, she thought, hoping her face didn’t show her fear. Somehow he knows about the scandal that nearly brought the Reyes Balam family down. And he’s threatening another.
    Isn’t he?
    “Your office?” he asked again.
    “I don’t bring grave robbers into the museum.”
    “Good. I’m not one.”
    “Or slimy middlemen or collectors who troll the black markets.”
    “Still good,” he said.
    She stared back at him with eyes gone dark.
    “Look,” he said. “We need privacy or you’ll be facing another scandal. My apartment isn’t far way. Neither is yours.”
    “How do you know?” she asked, torn between anger and a fear that made her even more angry.
    “Same way I know a lot of things. I checked you out. It’s what I do. Find things, especially if they’re lost in Mexico. I’m private. Very private. But if a public badge would make you feel better, I can call my friend. He’s with Immigration and Customs Enforcement. I’m working with him on these.” Hunter tapped the photos on the edge of the table.
    “My office,” Lina said tightly. “I know men there with badges.”
    Rent-a-cops, Hunter thought sardonically. But if they make fear go away from those beautiful eyes, rent-a-cops are my new best friends forever.
    “Your office,” he agreed.
    A few minutes later, Lina locked her office door behind her and watched Hunter fan the damning photos over her mostly clear desk. The locked door was a signal to students and professionals alike that she didn’t want to be disturbed.
    But she was more than disturbed. She was scared.
    If Hunter was lying to her about keeping his silence, her career was over. And if he wasn’t lying to her, her career probably still was over. From the little she had seen in the photos, they could easily have been the pieces her mother had been sniffing after this morning.
    Celia, what have you done now?
    With an expertise that came from years of experience caught between her warring parents, Lina smoothed all expression from her face.
    “These pieces were seized at the border by ICE,” Hunter said again, figuring she didn’t need to know about DEA and the beagle brigade.
    “You can prove that?”
    “If it will reassure you, I can bring in an ICE badge. Depending on where Jase is, it will take about half an hour.”
    “Jase?”
    “Jason Beaumont,” Hunter said. “My closest friend.”
    Lina walked over to her desk, trying not to stare at the photos.
    Failing.
    The fear that had rooted in her kept growing. Fumbling slightly, she slid into her office chair without looking away from the photos.
    Hunter studied Lina’s face as she studied the photos. Unlike the flash of panic or disgust he’d seen in the coffee shop, she appeared entirely composed now. Since she came from a high-test family, he wasn’t surprised at her calm. The ReyesBalam bloodlines were as blue as they came, New World and Old combined.
    “What do you want from me?” Lina asked.
    He wanted more than information, but that was his personal problem. It wouldn’t get in the way of his professional needs. Or Jase’s.
    “First and foremost,” Hunter said, “a promise that this goes no further than the two of us.”
    “Why?”
    “A man’s job hangs on finding those artifacts. Fast. He has two kids and another on the way. To help him, I need the kind of knowledge you have.”
    It wasn’t what Lina had expected to hear. She blew out her breath. “Just the two of us. And that goes both ways, Hunter.”
    “Three. Jase already knows I was going to contact you.”
    “Is it his butt on the line?” Lina asked bluntly.
    “Yes.”
    “All right. The three of us. If this gets out, I’m ruined.”
    “Just for talking to me?” Hunter asked.
    “There is no shade of gray in the academic view of unprovenanced items. You’re pure white or you’re garbage waiting for the disposal to be turned on.”
    “The Caesar’s wife syndrome?”
    “Exactly. My family’s reputation wouldn’t survive another scandal. Neither would mine. As you well know,” she added coolly.
    “The sooner you help me find these artifacts, the quicker you’ll be left with the purists.”
    She looked at him for a long