He shouldered through the rocks and debris and stood to his full height, a head above Evan's five-six. When he met her gaze, Evan had the strangest sensation. Maybe it was his oddly guarded expression; perhaps it was his marigold eyes. Whatever it was, she sensed a strange duality in this man. He loomed above her, yet the action seemed more protective than threatening. Something about him confused her.
As if sensing her assessment, he stepped back. And just like that, the warmth she had felt was gone, not from the distance but from a cold aura that suddenly seemed to blanket him. She reflexively glanced over her shoulder.
“We are alone, puta.”
Whore.The word hit her like a slap.
“Don’t call me that.” Her gaze was steady, her tone implacable.
He didn’t acknowledge her, but his sudden interest in the cave wall told her that her message had been received.
“The cave on the other side of that wall where you came from. I’d like to look at it,” Evan explained.
“What's it worth to you, chica?” he asked.
“I don’t have any money.” Evan fisted her trembling hands and stood her ground
“I don’t need money,” he said.
“What then?” Her eyes widened as he adjusted his crotch. “I won’t do that either.”
“You sure? I’ll show you a good time. I promise.” He leered at her.
“I’m sure. Very sure. Just… I’m going to go. Let's just forget this ever happened.” She backed away.
“I don’t know, little mouse. You’re very memorable.”
“Yeah, well, try.”
“This little mouse hunt is a secret, yes?” He kicked the small marker at his feet.
“Don’t do that!” she scolded.
He kicked it again. “Why not?”
The usual caution that would have tempered her words was absent as she pulled him away from the rocks by his forearm. “I’m not sure what I’ve found. It certainly wasn’t what I was looking for.”
“This little stack of rocks points the way to your fortune?” he asked.
She knelt by the small formation. “No. It doesn’t, but I estimate these little stacks were created over five hundred years ago. And I doubt they were just put here for decoration.”
He gave a low whistle. “How do you figure? Did you do some fancy doctor test?”
“I did some fancy sixth-grade math. Stalagmites grow at a rate of about one-half millimeter per year. That little stack had a one-foot formation on top of it.” She extended her hand in a simple-as-that gesture.
“Did I knock it off with the sledgehammer?” he asked.
Evan suddenly found the far corners of the cave fascinating. “No, uh, I did it. I fell and knocked it off when I was here the last time.”
His smile lit the cave. “So, I’m not the only bull in the glass shop around here.”
Her lips lifted reluctantly. “Apparently not.”
“What are these rock blobs anyway?” He toed the nearest one.
“I don’t know. It's a marker of some kind,” she said.
“Well, I have some good news for you.”