Out of Reach Read online

  Clearly it was a pointless argument, but the number of toothbrushes concerned her. This little room could become very busy in the morning. “How many guests are in your hotel?”

  “Two.” She beamed. “Very busy since they discover Agulinta. Is good, sí?”

  “Yes. Sí.” This was a timely reminder of why she was here. It didn’t matter what her accommodation was like. Visiting the mysterious ancient temple, meticulously detailed in her father’s journal, was the only thing that mattered.

  Lily desperately wanted a shower, but her hunger pangs were more dominating. “Renata, is there a restaurant near here?”

  The Mexican woman’s eyes widened, showing off the yellowish tinge around her black irises. “Sí, Zanbrero, is cantina down street. The chicken burritos is good, but if Gonzalos in kitchen, just have salad.” She scrunched up her face. “Sí?”

  “Oh. Okay.” Lily cringed, wondering how she’d ascertain who the suspect chef would be. “Is it far?”

  Renata chuckled. “Nothing is far in Corozal.”

  Lily believed her; from the drive in, it looked like the entire town consisted of just one street.

  Renata handed Lily the giant brass key. “I make you beautiful breakfast at seven o’clock tomorrow, sí?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Renata’s suggested time was late enough to allow Lily to get ready for her guide, who was due at eight o’clock in the morning.

  After Renata waddled away, Lily returned to the bathroom to quickly wash her hands and face. In her bedroom, she unpacked only the couple of items she’d need for the night, then she grabbed her satchel containing her most important possessions, slung it over her shoulder, walked out her door, keyed the lock, and headed downstairs.

  She stepped down the front stairs of Hotel Corozal and strolled in the opposite direction from which she’d arrived. Other than two pairs of elderly men who still sat on the porches, the street was deserted. She smelled forest leaves and spicy food. Four small black pigs ran out from beneath a building and barreled right at her. Lily dodged to the side at the last second, and the pigs continued squealing up the street like a wolf was on their tail.

  The high-pitched cackle of children laughing somewhere in the distance was welcome relief as the words ghost town tumbled across her brain. Lily was once again reminded of western movies as she climbed the four rickety wooden steps to the cantina and stepped in through the swinging saloon doors.

  Several men seated upon bar stools turned to her, and a line of unease crept up her back. Although their sneers indicated her presence wasn’t welcome, her hunger couldn’t be ignored any longer. Lily had what her mother called a bottomless stomach.

  Defying the impulse to walk right back out the door, she strode to one of the booths near an open window, sat down, and reached for a menu. Grumbling, she tossed it aside; it was written entirely in Spanish.

  A man with a solid three-day growth walked toward her, wiping his hands on his grime-smudged T-shirt. “Qué puedo conseguirte?”

  “Do you speak English?” She offered him her most becoming smile.

  “Sí, little.” He held his finger and thumb an inch apart.

  “Oh good. Are you the chef here?” She pretended to toss a salad, trying to emulate what she was saying.

  He palmed his chest. “Sí.”

  Grinning, she offered her hand. “I’m Lily. I’ve just arrived in your lovely little town. What’s your name?”

  “You want food?” He scowled, clearly uninterested in chitchat.

  Stewing over what to do, she scanned the room, trying to see other diners’ meals, but nobody appeared to be eating.

  If she only had a salad, her grumbling stomach would wake her in the middle of the night, yet she didn’t want to risk the chicken disaster Renata had hinted at. An idea hit her. “Do you have bean burritos?”

  He nodded. “Sí.”

  With perfect timing, her stomach grumbled in relief. “Can I have three bean burritos and a beer, please?”

  The chef nodded and left Lily to contend with the creepy stares from all the other men in the room. She couldn’t decide if women weren’t supposed to come to this cantina or if the locals didn’t like strangers in their little town. The discovery of Agulinta would’ve brought more visitors to this area than they’d probably seen in an entire decade. Not everyone liked change.

  Ignoring the leering eyes of the men at the bar, she scanned the room, looking for any hints her father may’ve once been here. It was a crazy notion really. Her father had never mentioned to anyone that he’d been to Mexico. Yet the photos they’d found and his drawings in the journal indicated he had, though exactly where, was unclear. In an attempt to make sense of it all, Lily had spent hundreds of hours researching and memorizing her father’s notes after they’d buried him.

  So far, she’d failed.

  This expedition, however, was a mission to try to decipher his drawings and ramblings. The father she’d known was a dairy farmer who adored his animals almost as much as he adored his family. They thought they knew everything there was to know about him. Especially Lily’s mother, who’d been with her father for more than thirty years.

  They were wrong.

  Out the window, the sun offered its last gasp, piercing long beams through the trees to create mottled light and dark shadows down the main street.

  The bulbs in the cantina flickered to life, and Lily turned her attention to the décor. The restaurant was in desperate need of renovation. Colorful paint on the walls was peeling and faded, and the eclectic collection of hanging trinkets were plastered in dust. A multicolored rug hanging on the wall was decorated in Mayan symbols, and she recognized some from her own research.

  As she contemplated how long the rug had been hanging there, the chef returned to her table with her beer, meal, and a knife and fork wrapped in a yellow napkin.

  “Espero que os guste el burrito de frijoles, mi amiga.”

  “Gracias.” Other than the word burrito, she had no idea what he’d said. If she’d had more time to prepare for this visit, Lily would’ve invested hours into learning basic Spanish. But in the six weeks from when she’d made up her mind she was going, to when she stepped on the plane in Seattle, her life had been a crazy whirlwind of phone calls from her concerned family and friends, making difficult travel arrangements, and studying her father’s notes over and over again. Learning Spanish was allocated little priority.

  Lily twisted the plate to examine the burritos nestled within a mound of brown rice and topped with lush red sauce. If it tasted even a fraction as good as it smelled, then this promised to be good.

  She started with the beer. It was León, a brand she’d never heard of. She took a tentative sip and the bubbles soothed her parched throat. The beer was cold, slightly sweet, and tasty. Satisfied, she took another mouthful, and this time she savored the semi-dark ale.

  It was lucky Lily enjoyed a bit of spice because the delicious burrito, while abundant with flavor, was loaded with jalapeños and cayenne. She tempered the spicy flush crawling up her neck by alternating mouthfuls of food with swigs of the cold beer.

  Halfway through her meal, a man walked into the cantina who looked as much out of place as she felt. Unlike everyone she’d seen since she hit Mexico, he was blond with fair skin. Lily hadn’t seen fair hair since she’d left the American border. His full beard concealed most of his face, and his shoulder-length hair was a tangle of soft curls. She couldn’t decide if the lighter strands near his temple were gray or sun bleached.

  With a broad smile, the man swaggered up to the bar as if it was something he did every day. He tugged one of the wooden bar stools out from beneath the counter and ordered a beer.

  Going by his accent, Lily was confident he wasn’t from Mexico. He wasn’t American either. Based on some of the celebrities she’d heard on TV, Australian was her best guess.

>   He attempted small talk with the locals, who clearly weren’t interested. Concentrating on her meal, she tried not to listen to the one-sided conversation. Once she’d eaten everything, she stood and left enough Mexican pesos on the table to cover her bill and a generous tip.

  With her stomach now full, it was her weary body that was demanding attention. The sooner she hit the pillow, the better. Her intention was to sneak out while the newcomer was attempting to engage the disinterested men. But her plan was obliterated when the man spun on his bar stool toward her. His eyes were an interesting blend of green and bronze and his smile accentuated the creases lining their sides.

  “Hola, señorita.” Shifting his gaze from her eyes to her mouth, he flicked a wayward curl off his forehead.

  “Hello.” She offered a quick, carefree smile.

  His eyebrows jumped up to his wavy bangs. “American?”

  She nodded and, determined to get away before he asked any more questions, she adjusted her shoulder strap and headed out the door. Stepping over the threshold, she heard the men laughing and wondered if she was the focus of their joke.

  It wouldn’t have surprised her; the white cotton dress she’d put on this morning had been chosen for comfort and coolness for the long journey, not sitting in a dirty little cantina in the middle of a Mexican jungle. In hindsight she wished she’d changed before leaving the hotel.

  The main street didn’t have any lighting except what filtered from the buildings flanking either side. Clutching the strap of her satchel, she hustled toward the single dangling bulb lighting up her hotel’s front porch in the distance. She picked up her pace, peering into the darkness between each building she passed. Halfway along the street the silence engulfed her.

  A nervous tingle raced up her spine.

  She spun to a crunching sound behind her. Her instincts kicked in and she ducked, but it was pointless. Her feet were tackled from beneath her. She fell to her knees and screamed, more for attention than pain. Her heart exploded when her attacker grabbed her satchel.

  She clawed at the leather. Blind terror drove her desperation.

  Her most precious items were in that bag and she was not letting it go.

  Her attacker was barely visible; his dark skin, dark hair, and dark clothing blended into the blackness around him, but she knew he stood above her. She swung her right leg, connected with his knees and tackled him to the ground. Without hesitation, she jumped to her feet and dropped, elbow first, into his solar plexus.

  The wind punched out of him with a wounded howl.

  Acid churned her stomach as she scrambled to her feet. The thief kicked the backs of her legs. She lurched forward. Her hands sliced on the gravel and she screamed.

  He grabbed her satchel.

  She did too.

  He heaved it and she used the momentum to haul herself upright.

  A light came on in a nearby building, highlighting his face. She paused at his youthfulness, but only briefly. Taking aim, she rammed her closed fist into his nose. Bone and gristle shattered beneath the punch. She clutched the satchel to her chest, and as he hit the ground in a full body slam, she turned and ran.

  Her feet pounded beneath her. Her breaths shot in and out in short, sharp gasps.

  With every stride, she braced for attack. She tasted blood, barely noticing she’d bitten her lip.

  She bounded up the hotel’s front steps, slammed open the front door, and it hit the wall as loud as a gunshot. She stumbled forward. Clutched the railing. Her mind told her to get up the stairs, but her legs wouldn’t obey. Her heart thumped in her ears. Stars dazzled her eyes.

  Renata appeared in the hall, eyes wide, mouth ajar. “What’s wrong? What happened? Oh my Lord. Look at you; you’re a mess.”

  “Someone tried to steal my bag.” With trembling fingers, she gripped her satchel. Her legs weakened with relief that it was still there. She had thought it’d be safer to keep her prized possessions on her at all times—it may’ve been the wrong decision. “I’m okay.”

  “You’re not okay. Look at your clothes.”

  Her cotton dress was ruined, stained with both blood and dirt. Blood oozed from her knees, and it was only now that she felt her stinging flesh.

  Renata fussed over her, straightening her dress, dusting dirt off her back and hip. All Lily wanted to do was get to her room and shut the door.

  She gripped the railing, ready to climb the stairs, but waning adrenaline had turned her bones to jelly. “I didn’t see him very well, but I think he was just a kid. Really, I’m fine, but he might not be. I may’ve broken his nose.”

  Renata gasped and covered her mouth. “You broke his nose?”

  “I think so.”

  Renata blinked at her, and for a moment appeared to be more horrified by what Lily had done to her attacker than the other way around.

  “I just need a shower and a good sleep. I’m fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Renata backed away. “Sí, sí, okay. Good night.”

  Lily’s muscles protested at every step. By the time she reached her bedroom, a lump had formed in her throat. By the time she pushed into her room, she could barely breathe. She shut the door, locked it, and a sob burst from her lips.

  Bile rose to her tongue as she crumbled onto the bed. Flicking away tears, she examined her injuries through blurry eyes. Her palms were a mess, blood and grit mingled together. Her knees were the same. As she touched one sore after another, she tried to come to terms with what happened. She could almost hear her family’s reaction. They’d tell her to forget her stupid quest and return home. But she wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t.

  This was not going to beat her. It was just some stupid kid, desperate for cash. Nothing more.

  She was tempted to crawl into bed and sleep for twelve hours. Instead, she inhaled calming breaths and forced herself to get moving again. Drying her eyes, she grabbed her toiletries bag and a towel and pulled open her door. She stepped into the hallway and nearly smacked straight into a man. Her heart leapt to her throat until she realized who it was.

  “Holy shit. What happened to you?” The blond-haired man from the cantina eyed her up and down.

  She straightened her shoulders but avoided his gaze. “Nothing. What’re you doing here?”

  “I’m staying here too. Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look it. What’d you do? Fall over or something?”

  “Yeah . . . something like that.” She didn’t need anyone else fussing over her, especially not a man. Like every other man in her life, he was likely to reiterate that this wasn’t a place for a woman. And she certainly didn’t need that lecture again. She turned her brass key to lock her door. “Nothing a hot shower and good sleep won’t fix.” She forced conviction into her voice.

  “Right then. Some of those cuts may need dressing. Want some help?”

  Lily resisted the temptation to look at her bloody hands. “No, I’m fine. Good night—”

  “Carter,” he prompted.

  “I’m Lily.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lily. Hope you feel better tomorrow.”

  She left him in the hall, entered the bathroom, and locked the door. Gripping the basin, she stared into her bloodshot eyes. Her skin was pale, bathed in a sickly hue. When her chin began to dimple, she clenched her jaw and forced the emotion down. She squeezed her eyes shut and a single tear trickled down her cheek. Determined not to cry any more, she thumbed it away and reexamined her knees. Both kneecaps had lost skin, guaranteeing nasty scabs in a couple of days, and a red rash covered her right shin, too.

  After undressing, she stepped to the shower. With trembling fingers, she turned the old brass taps. Cold water gushed for a long time, and just when she conceded it was never going to get hot, the pipes behind the tiles clanged and a fresh burst of spray annou
nced the hot water’s arrival.

  Lily stepped into the cascade and allowed the warm water to massage her weary body. Her wounds stung but she pushed through the pain, ensuring all the dirt was gone. She would’ve stayed in there for hours if the hot water hadn’t abruptly shuddered off.

  After she dried herself, she wrapped her towel around her body. Silently praying she didn’t bump into Carter again, she opened the door and sighed with relief.

  She tiptoed down the hallway, arriving at her room uninterrupted, and closed and locked the door behind her. Lily pulled out the little first-aid kit she’d brought with her and winced as she rubbed antiseptic into her wounds. To avoid losing the cream on the bed sheets, she bandaged both her hands and knees.

  By the time she crawled onto the lumpy mattress and tugged the sheet up under her chin, she was beyond exhausted. Every part of her body ached.

  This was supposed to be the easy part of her trip.

  As the minutes ticked by, niggling doubts from her friends and family seeped into her brain like a dripping tap.

  You’re not prepared.

  You’re not strong enough.

  You’ve never done anything like this.

  They were all true. But damned if she was going to give up this quickly. Lily closed her eyes. She needed her strength if she was going to get through the next four days.

  I can do this. I can do this.

  She repeated the mantra over and over until sleep silenced her overactive brain.

  Chapter 2

  Carter woke just before the sun spread its light across the sky. It was a habit that’d been with him most of his life and had proven impossible to break. He couldn’t remember ever needing an alarm to wake up, which was a gift, given that he’d traveled a vast majority of the world. It didn’t matter what time zone he was in; his body always knew when daybreak was about to hit.

  He reached for his camera and hoisted up his bedroom window to investigate the view. Through the lens, he adjusted the focus and explored different parts of the little Mexican town below, searching for the perfect scene to take his first photo of the day.