Beautiful Sacrifice

it’s not too late for some real drenching storms. For the sake of the villagers, I hope rain comes.”
    “No irrigation?”
    “Only where the ancient stone ditches have been patched. And even then, the ditches lose more water than they carry.”
    Hunter waited until Lina had negotiated a rough segment of washed-out road before he said, “Mercurio thinks one or more of your family is involved in the illegal artifact trade.”
    There was a long silence while the thinning jungle rippled by in the headlights. More and more limestone outcroppings poked through, like fangs fighting the plants that struggled to rule.
    “So do a lot of people,” she said finally. “Nobody has had any luck proving it. And plenty have tried. Being local aristocrats isn’t the same as being bulletproof. Without Carlos’s success in the cement business and our mahogany farms, the family would be land-poor and getting poorer. Celia contributes as well.”
    “What about the villages on your estate?”
    “They’re black holes for money. We pay for their religious celebrations, doctor their sick, bury their dead, give money for marriages and births, and send their children to schools. In return, they work on the estate lands, keep us in fresh food and game, and pay to rent croplands.”
    “Sounds downright feudal,” Hunter said.
    “It works for them. They can leave whenever they want. The ambitious or restless do. Many of them come back. Cities are cruel to the poor.”
    “So is the countryside.”
    Lina swerved to avoid a downed tree. The tires crunched over small branches. The smell of crushed foliage flowed like oil through the open windows.
    “So you’ve never known any of your people to dig illegally in the ruins?” Hunter asked.
    “There are always rumors,” she said slowly, “but once Carlos took over the family mahogany and cement businesses, the rumors dried up. The source of our money was obvious even to people who disliked us.”
    “Sounds like Carlos rules with bare knuckles.”
    Lina’s mouth flattened. “Sometimes it’s that or go under. Or have our lands pockmarked with illegal digs, new and old.”
    “Leave enough bodies and word gets out that the reward isn’t worth the risk,” Hunter agreed. “It’s a management technique that never ages.”
    “Bodies?” She laughed. “Nothing that dramatic. Money works quite well. Carlos keeps the villages happy. They keep him happy. It’s what the Reyes Balam family has always done.”
    “Yet Rodrigo, who knows more about this part of the Yucatan than the devil himself, believes there are tomb robbers on Reyes Balam land. Mercurio would have said the same, but he was too busy trying to charm your shorts off.”
    “And you?” Lina asked tightly. “Do you believe my family is little better than the narco cartels? Money first and everything else second?”
    “I believe you’re honest.” Hunter’s fingers skimmed down her cheek. “I believe the jungle hides as many secrets as hell does, and damn near as many bodies. Until we know some of those secrets, we’re running naked through places where angels in armor would tiptoe.”
    Lina chewed delicately on her lower lip. “I know my family—especially my parents—aren’t angels, armored or otherwise. That’s not the same as believing they’ve lied to me all my life.”
    Hunter picked over all the possible responses, trying to find one that wouldn’t push Lina away from him.
    “Whoever has those missing artifacts is corrupt to the bone,” he said finally, remembering the basement abattoir, “and more dangerous than a bag full of grenades with loose pins. I don’t want you hurt, sweetheart.”
    “It wasn’t exactly safe in Houston.”
    “No. And we can’t assume it’s safe here.”
    “So…you do believe my family is dirty.”
    “Dirty as in narco dirty? No. Rodrigo didn’t say anything about drugs or El Maya,” Hunter said. “He just told me I should get the hell out of the Yucatan. He didn’t hint at any danger to you.”
    “But you’re still here.”
    Hunter didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His presence was the only statement that mattered.
     
     
    T HE ENTRANCE TO THE R EYES B ALAM ESTATE WAS GUARDED by nothing but jungle. The grounds were only partially illuminated, just enough to tell Hunter that the landscaping was expansive and not heavily pruned. Smaller homes—probably separate quarters for guests—orbited the big house like cottages around a high-end hotel. The