anyone except Bovedine. She assumed that meant the information inside. Not that she’d been able to dissect his cryptic notes, but she was pretty sure the treasure he spoke of was connected to a place or person named Llanganatis. The one time she’d mentioned the word today, the old woman she’d been trying to speak with had scurried away, muttering, maldición. River still didn’t know what that meant.
Antonio flashed a smile that said he got this question a hundred times a day. “Baños is a popular starting place for expeditions into the Amazon rain forest and Andes Mountains. There are several tour companies—”
“I’m not interested in a group tour.” River moistened her lips and tried not to betray the panic whispering through her veins at the thought of navigating a jungle. “I need a private guide.”
The waiter raised a brow. He assessed her petite form and, as David had called them, dainty features.
River sighed. “I know. I don’t look like I’m cut out for primitive situations.” If she had a nickel for every time she’d heard some variation on that theme. “Regardless, I’m on a mission.”
“If I may be so bold, signorina.” Antonio looked over both shoulders before continuing in a lower voice. “In Ecuador, Americans are increasingly targeted for crimes. Robberies and assaults—”
“And worse. I know. I read the warnings on a few travel sites. I’ll be careful.”
“It is just that you are a woman. A very pretty, very—”
“Please don’t say delicate.”
He chuckled. “Ah, sí. Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye.”
She was counting on it.
“Check with the tourist center, two blocks down on the right,” he said. “If not there, try El Dosel. It is a popular drinking hole for guides and treasure seekers.”
“Treasure seekers?”
Beware of the hunters.
River forked her rice and chicken and tried her best to look nonchalant.
“Professionals and amateurs. We get them all.”
“What are they looking for?”
“Inca gold. You have not heard of the Lost Treasure of Llanganatis?”
Not directly. “No.” River unconsciously palmed her chest. Beneath her layered tees, she felt the amulet she’d secured on a black cord and looped around her neck. Not knowing its meaning or worth, she’d kept it hidden. Just now it burned into her breastbone.
“Google it,” Antonio said. “Interesting theory. If I thought there was a chance it was true, I’d be searching, too.”
She sipped juice to soothe her constricted throat. “So, you think it’s a myth.”
“It is safer that way.”
An odd choice of words. “Wait,” she called when he turned to leave. “Do you know what maldición means?”
He angled his head, processed. “I think so, sí. Cursed.”
River’s stomach twisted. “As in a bad word?”
“As in evil.”
SPENSER’S TEMPLES throbbed. He’d been blocking memories and emotions ever since he’d pulled into Baños. He’d joked with Gordo about facing his demons, but that would require wrestling with a shitload of suppressed guilt. He wasn’t sure if he could do that without getting drunk and staying drunk for a good week. Right now he needed to be sober and focused. He’d be damned if he’d lose another person to the curse and, the way things were going, River Kane was a prime candidate.
With the exception of the half hour he’d spent with Cyrus Lassiter, a crusty treasure hunter with a tarnished reputation, Spenser had been watching over the blond waif all day, albeit from a distance. He’d lost count of the times she’d washed her hands with sanitizer, doused herself with bug spray and slathered on sunscreen. Instead of being tuned in to the people—and danger—around her, she was obsessed with her skin and location. She’d constantly referred to a street map and her GPS unit, even though she’d only navigated the core of town. From what he could tell she was a mass of phobias, but that didn’t stop her from trying to locate her dad.
Much to Spenser’s disappointment.
Cyrus had confirmed his suspicions regarding the eccentric professor. He’d also supplied another troubling bit of information, one that had prodded Spenser into risking River’s wrath by revealing his presence.
He waited until she finished her meal—God knew the woman needed fortifying—then joined her as she left the café. She was so immersed in the map, she didn’t even sense his approach. Christ. “We need to talk, angel.”
She jumped at the sound of his voice, then froze in her tracks. A dozen emotions flitted across that pale face. Surprise, relief, anger, worry and was that…?
Hell, yeah.
Desire.
He pondered that last one while she zoned in on anger.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped.
“Why did you lie to me?”
“What?”
He hadn’t intended to provoke her, but damn he was pissed. Pissed he was attracted to her. Pissed she was flirting with danger. Pissed she’d put him in a shit position. Royally, irrationally pissed. “You said you were taking the bus to Lima.”
“No, I didn’t. I only said I was taking the bus. I didn’t specify where.”
He let that one slide. “You told Kylie and your assistant that your reason for flying to South America was to reunite with your ex.”
“It’s on my agenda.”
Damn. “David’s in Peru.”
“I know where he is, relatively, and I know where I am.”
“You damn well should,” Spenser said, frowning at the map in her hand. “You’ve consulted that map or your GPS every ten feet.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been spying on me!”
“Watching over you.”
“You said you’d go back to Peru.”
“I said I wouldn’t force my company on you.”
“What do you call this?”
“An intervention.”
She narrowed those mesmerizing green eyes and looked at him like he was crazy. “Listen, you—”
“Save it.” The longer he stood here, soaking in her fragile beauty, breathing in goddamned Skin So Soft Bug Guard (he’d know that laundry-fresh scent
