“I’ll do that.”

  She swung around and strode toward the building, feeling Hawke’s gaze on her. After punching in her code, she entered the lobby and crossed the large open space. The clicking of her heels on the marble tiles echoed through the two-story area, the hollow sound emphasizing the deserted feel of the place. She hurried toward the elevator and rode to the second floor.

  She scanned the long empty hallway that led to her office. The hair on her nape tingled. Hugging her purse to her chest, she quickened her step down the corridor.

  She fit her key into her office lock and promptly turned it. Thrusting the door open, she froze at the figure in the shadows by her desk.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  In the entrance to her office, Kit gasped, stepped back and started to pivot, her heart practically leaping from her chest.

  “Kit! It’s me.” Dropping the book in his hand, Wes Stanford moved from the shadows, his model-perfect face contorted into a frown. The harsh lines eased into a lopsided grin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “What are you doing in here?” With her pulse still throbbing a maddening pace through her, she gripped the door frame to steady herself.

  “Getting this.” He pointed toward the book he’d let fall to the desk. “A while back you said I could borrow it if I needed it for my research.”

  “I did?” She dragged her fingers through her hair, trying to remember if she had. Her mind muddled from exhaustion and stress, she couldn’t recall. But then, there would be no reason she wouldn’t lend him a text. She’d always shared with him. Then why the doubts at this moment that he was lying to her?

  There was only one answer to that question: Hawke Lonechief was making her paranoid about the people around her because of her quest for the Lost City of Gold.

  “I’m sorry. I should have said something to you. It was a couple of months ago. I didn’t think I would need it, but I hit a snag and thought the information in it would help me.” He took a few steps toward her. “I’d better go. Again my apologies for frightening you.”

  She straightened away from the jamb and blocked his escape. “How did you get in here?”

  His gaze swung away from her, all color drained from his face. “I was in a bit of a hurry the other day when your students finished with their finals. I didn’t bring them to your office right away. I called the receptionist yesterday at home, and she told me where her master key was kept.”

  “She what?”

  He looked straight into her eyes, saying, “Please don’t get Kelly in trouble.” Then he averted his gaze to a spot slightly to the left of Kit. “At first she was going to come all the way up here and let me in, but I didn’t want her to go to that kind of trouble because I forgot to do it on Friday. I kind of sweet-talked her into it.”

  “I doubt you had to do much sweet-talking. Kelly has a thing for you.” She forced herself to relax the tense set of her muscles.

  Wes blushed. “I hadn’t noticed. I’ve been so wrapped up in this research. It’s not going the way I thought it would.”

  “What are you doing your paper on? Maybe after I get back I can help you.”

  “No, you have your own to do.” He approached her. “I don’t want to bother you with my problems. It’ll work out. I just need to come up with a fresh angle.” Only a foot away, he paused. “I’ll leave you alone to grade your finals.”

  Keeping her distance, she moved into her office while he skirted around her out into the hall. “Wes!”

  He stopped.

  “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

  His eyebrows crunched together.

  She walked to her desk and lifted the heavy book titled Portugal’s Empire in the Western Hemisphere.

  “Oh, yes. Sorry.” Again red flooded his cheeks, and he rushed back into the room, grabbed the text and fled out the door.

  When she strode to the entrance and peered out into the corridor, it was empty. Strange. She hadn’t known Wes was interested in Portugal. His area of expertise and what she thought he would write his article on was Colonial North America, and Portugal had had little to do with that area.

  After closing her door, she opened her blinds, and sunlight spilled into the room. First she examined her desk, trying to recall how she had left it. Yes, she could be messy at times, but it appeared worse than usual. Lying on the shortest stack of books were the finals. Right next to that was a folder with some articles and research on Coronado. Hadn’t she put that in her file cabinet the last time she was in here?

  Sinking down onto her chair, she retraced her steps but couldn’t remember. The notes in that folder wouldn’t tell anyone much, so why did she feel as if someone had gone through her office?

  Would Wes have done that? She’d known him for years, first as a student and now as a colleague, and had helped him get where he was in the history department. She couldn’t see him betraying her like that and for what?

  Scanning the rest of the room, she noted the pile of magazines on top of a bookcase, the crammed shelves with texts stacked in every possible place. She needed a new bookcase. She needed someone to clean this office. The disorder mirrored her life at the moment.

  She shook her head. She was letting Hawke’s suspicions make her doubt a friend and colleague. Up until now, she’d never had a reason to distrust Wes’s motives. When this expedition was over with, she intended to get her life back, and one of the ways would be to put a lot of distance between her and Hawke.

  * * *

  Hawke glanced up from the book to find Samuel White staring at him. The man immediately peered down at the computer screen in front of him and began typing. When he had first come into the library, he’d used Kit’s name with the research librarian in order to see White’s reaction. Now he wasn’t so sure he should have said anything. He felt assessed, cataloged and discarded as unworthy, almost as if the librarian had a secret crush on Kit and saw him as the competition.

  Perusing the written page before him, Hawke smiled. If only the man knew, he had nothing to worry where Hawke and Kit were concerned. At the end of a long day there wasn’t anything left for Hawke to give a woman. After he took Kit to Desolation Canyon, he would say goodbye and never see her again. He would get her in and out of the place safely, and then maybe the guilt eating him up inside would ease. He had failed to protect one woman in the canyon; he wouldn’t fail Kit.

  After today’s sermon, he knew he had to do something more with his life than wallow in his grief and guilt. He just wasn’t sure what to do.

  The words on the page faded as he thought back to what the reverend had said that morning. “God’s love gives us a way to redeem ourselves, no matter the sin. That way is through Jesus Christ.”

  Kit’s minister might believe that, but he didn’t see any way the Lord could forgive him his sin. And if he were truthful with himself, no amount of good deeds would make up for it, either.

  He didn’t have to turn around to see Kit enter the New Mexico room at the library. He felt her presence the moment she came through the doorway. He heard her footsteps sound against the wooden floor as she approached his table. The scent of lavender, a soothing balm amidst the turmoil raging inside him, surrounded him before she settled her hand on his arm and slipped into the chair beside him.

  “Find anything of interest?”

  He set the book on the table. “Nothing that would convince you not to go to Desolation Canyon.” He shoved away the tome, not caring to read any more about Coronado’s crusade through the Southwest and his dealings with the Indians in his way. “Did you get the tests graded?”

  “Yes, and final grades in. I’m free to leave—” Kit rose “—after I speak to Samuel.”

  The research librarian grinned as Kit came toward him. Turning from the computer, he stood, leaning into the counter. “I assisted your…friend, there—” Samuel tossed his head in the direction of Hawke “—with what he requested, but frankly some of the books he wanted to see didn’t fit with what you’ve been looking at.”

  Kit bent toward Samuel and lowered her voice. “Like what?”

  Hawke neared the pair. “I asked for a book on Chaco Canyon and one on the Aztec and Mayan trade practices.”

  She whirled around, her hand to her chest. “You need to warn someone you’re approaching.”

  “Sorry. A habit of mine.”

  “Is eavesdropping on someone’s conversation another one?” Kit asked.

  “When I’m the topic, yes. But frankly—” Hawke looked at Samuel “—if you don’t want to be overheard, don’t speak so loudly.”

  “I was whispering.” Kit’s mouth firmed into a frown.

  “Loudly.”

  She peered back at the research librarian. “Thanks for assisting my…friend. Samuel, you’ve been a big help to me. I’ll let you read the article before I send it in if you want.”

  “You will? I’d love to.” Samuel beamed, thrusting his shoulders back and puffing his chest out.

  Hawke bit back his chuckle, but it was so obvious how the man felt about Kit. Poor guy. He wasn’t Kit’s type. She would become bored with him in no time. He wasn’t—Suddenly Hawke brought his thoughts to a grinding halt. Why was he thinking about the type of man for Kit? In a couple of weeks she would be only a memory.

  “Ready?”

  Kit’s smoky voice reined in his overactive imagination. He blinked, not liking what had been rumbling around in his mind.

  “We need to go. Ready?”

  “Sure. I’ve been ready to go since I arrived.” Hawke strode toward the exit. “I just didn’t relish watching you grade tests.”

  “I wish you had been with me.” Kit started down the flight of stairs.

  “Why? What happened?” He halted halfway down.

  “Wes Stanford was in my office and scared me.”

  “Who is he again?”

  “Oh, just a friend and fellow professor.”

  “And he scared you? That doesn’t sound like a friend.”

  “You scared me a moment ago.” Her eyes gleamed with mischief.

  “But I’m not a friend.”

  “What are you?” The light in her gaze dimmed, and her mouth curved downward.

  “Your guide.”

  She finished descending the stairs. He stayed where he was for a few extra seconds. He’d hurt her. He’d seen it in her expression, in the way she carried herself out the main entrance, her chin up, her back stiff.

  Hurrying after her, he stopped her by grabbing her right arm in front of the library on the sidewalk. “We’ve been spending so much time together because I’m going to escort you to Desolation Canyon. That’s my role in your life. I’m only your guide.”

  “I understand. Beyond that we have nothing in common to base a friendship on. Ignore what I said to Samuel.”

  He started to correct her. They had more in common than she thought. They both loved coffee way too much. They both enjoyed the sunrise and were a bit messy. The written word was important to her as well as him. They each had a past tragedy they didn’t care to talk about. But he wasn’t about to point that out to her. Instead he asked, “Why was this Wes Stanford in your office without your knowledge?”

  “Looking for a book he wanted to borrow. My blinds were pulled so it was dim. I couldn’t tell it was Wes at first. I thought it was someone…” Her teeth dug into her lower lip.

  “What? Someone after your information concerning the Lost City?”

  She nodded. “See what you’ve done? You’ve got me paranoid and suspecting all my friends.”

  “All I’m doing is my job. You should be cautious.”

  “I told you that you aren’t my bodyguard. You’re only my guide, remember?”

  “Yes, you’ve made that point crystal clear.” He began walking toward his Jeep in the parking lot at the side of the library. “Do you usually keep your office unlocked?”

  “It’s always locked. Wes got the master key from Kelly and let himself in.”

  “And you don’t think that’s suspicious?”

  “No, he explained why.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  At his Jeep, Kit opened the passenger door, peering back at him. “What I am sure about is that no one is going to follow us into Desolation Canyon.”

  * * *

  The Guardian’s hands quivered as he shut down his computer. Hawke Lonechief, the man he had maneuvered to be Kit’s guide, had murdered his wife and gotten away with it. And he was going to be alone with Kit in Desolation Canyon where he’d killed the woman he supposedly loved.

  The Guardian sprang to his feet and paced. He had to do something to protect Kit.

  * * *

  The next day Kit stumbled across the rocky terrain near the canyon system that Desolation was a part of. Darkness closed in around her, the quarter moon and Hawke’s and her flashlights the only illumination. She couldn’t even feel her shoulders anymore from the heavy weight of her backpack.

  She bit back the words, I thought we would be at your uncle’s by now, although she had almost said them on several occasions in the past hour since night fell. She wouldn’t give Hawke the satisfaction.

  His declaration when he had parked at Black Horse Pass still grated on her nerves. “You have no business going into the canyon. You need at least another month or two of conditioning. We can put a stop to this right now.” Okay, she wasn’t in the superb shape he obviously wanted her to be in, but she had been determined the whole day not to complain or to hinder Hawke in any way.

  “This last part is a bit tricky.” Hawke’s voice carried on the cooling current of air that blew through the ravine.

  Just the last part? She would have to say the whole journey had been a bit tricky. On a scale of one to ten she rated the hike so far as an eight point five. And according to Hawke, this was the easier leg of the journey.

  “I’d hoped to get here before dark. I can usually make it…” He let the unspoken implication be whisked away by the wind.

  Hawke stopped, and Kit nearly ran into him. She peered around her and shone her light on the wall of rock before her.

  “We’re almost there.”

  “We are?” She slowly rotated in a circle and only glimpsed more granite, except for a narrow passage twenty yards away. “We go through there?”

  “No, we go up.”

  “Up!” She craned her neck and stared toward the sky. The glow from her flashlight barely penetrated the black curtain.

  He chuckled. “Did I forget to mention Gus lives on the side of a cliff?”

  “Why?”

  “No unexpected visitors.”

  “He takes the hermit part seriously.”

  “He doesn’t have much tolerance for people.”

  “Then maybe we should skip his…place and bed down here.” Kit scanned the darkness and shivered. She didn’t relish camping in the ravine. “I don’t want to surprise him.”

  “We won’t be. He knows we’re here.”

  “He does?”

  “For one thing we haven’t exactly come in silently.” Hawke waved his flashlight. “And this is like a beacon in the night.”

  “Since I haven’t sprouted wings in the past hour, how do we go up?” Kit pulled the thick backpack straps together.

  “Follow me. Put your feet where I do. The stairs aren’t wide.”

  Kit fitted her foot on the first step, mere inches. With her heavy backpack, her balance was thrown off. She slipped back to the floor of the ravine. “Aren’t wide” was an understatement! She dug her teeth into her bottom lip and leaned forward to counterweight the forty pounds on her back.

  “Leave your pack. I’ll come down and get it later.”

  “No. I can do this.” She wasn’t sure if she was reassuring him or her. But she knew one thing: she would scale this cliff with her gear.

  He angled his light down on her, shining where she needed to place her shoe as well as what to hold on to.

  “Thanks,” she said, then muttered under her breath, “I’m sure you can do this blindfolded.”

  “No, but this is enough light for me.”

  What did he have? Superhearing? She gritted her teeth and kept her mouth shut while her fingernails clutched the small handhold.

  When Hawke disappeared over a ledge, a gruff voice, rivaling the howl of the wind, boomed, “You’re a week early and this isn’t a hotel.”

  Still, Kit clung precariously to the cliff. She was only a few feet from the rocky shelf where Hawke was, but she didn’t know if she should continue.

  Suddenly his head poked over the edge, and he extended his hand toward her. “Grab hold. I’ll help you.”

  “Are you sure? Your uncle doesn’t sound too happy we’re here, or at least that I am.”

  “I’m sure,” he said with amusement.

  She clasped his arm, and before she could catch her breath, he pulled her up and over the side of the ledge. Scanning the dimly lit shelf, protected by a rocky overhang from the elements, she lumbered to her feet. Her survey came to a halt when her gaze lit upon Hawke’s uncle, a wiry man, only a few inches taller than she. His long, shocking-white hair hung about his shoulders in a wild array as though the wind had whipped through it.

  But what made her gulp was the fierce inspection she received. She almost stepped back. Thankfully she didn’t, because when the ageless man released her gaze, she glanced behind her. A sheer drop into a black void greeted her. A hand clamped about her wrist, and she was yanked forward against a wall of muscles.

  “Stay away from the edge.”

  Hawke’s own intensity imbued each word. She shuddered when she remembered how his wife had died.

  “You know, it gets cold when the sun goes down.” His arms encircled her and nestled her against his warmth.

  She didn’t correct him about why she was shaking. His wife’s death wasn’t a subject of conversation. His love must have run deep for Pamela. All her life she had wanted a love like that, but it hadn’t been in God’s plan. She would have to console herself with a satisfying career and her friends.

  Before she became too comfortable within the safety of his arms, she sidestepped away and faced his uncle’s “cabin.” Cradled against the back wall of stone sat a structure made of adobe and logs that reminded her of what the ancient ones had built into the cliff side, only newer. Awed by the similarities, she ambled forward, drawn by the soft glow of light coming from inside.