Chapter 11
Charlie
The storm absolutely hammered the rocks outside and down below. Floodwater roared through the ravine, carving away the banks as if they were made of butter. The muddy torrent was at least two feet higher than the last time I'd looked.
But inside the cave, the tension between the two men was just as dangerous as the rising water.
Doug's pacing had slowed, but only just. And he still hadn't taken his hand off that rifle strap.
Mitch, however, remained a solid block of silence near the entrance, unmoved by Doug's erratic behavior.
His steady gaze promised violence, and I was pretty sure he could crush Doug without breaking a sweat.
I still couldn't believe Doug thought I'd been flirting with him. Stupid bastard.
But what confused me more was how fast I'd believed Mitch over Doug.
I barely knew the man. Mitch Branson was a dripping wet cowboy who'd stormed onto my dig site, yelling at me. Even though he'd saved me from drowning twice, he was still a complete stranger.
And yet, I believed him.
On the other hand, I'd known Doug for years. I'd worked alongside him. We'd shared research notes, coffee, even a few late-night glasses of wine during the planning stages of this dig. I'd called him a friend. I'd admired him.
But everything he said now twisted like a knife.
All those late nights… flirting with him?
What a wanker.
I clenched my jaw, anger and disgust surging through me. I'd never flirted with him. Not once. He was fifteen years older than me, and delusional if he thought I'd ever shown interest in him.
Like hell. Ew.
He was always looking at me. Getting too close. Making those offhand comments that made my skin crawl. But I'd never called him out. How could I? He was my boss. The man who'd funded this expedition. He was the reason I'd been able to come here.
But ever since we'd set up my tent next to the site office at the dig site, he'd been acting weird.
Oh, God! Did he think I'd share the bed inside the bus with him?
I wanted to vomit.
Could that be why he'd been such a pain in the ass?
But still, that didn't explain his reaction when I'd uncovered the prehistoric fossils.
He'd changed. Grown possessive. Paranoid.
Acting as if the discovery belonged to him and him alone.
He hadn't wanted to share the credit. He'd wanted to steal it from me just like that bastard Marcus had four years ago.
Not getting the permit to be here probably hadn't been the only thing Doug had lied about. There was more going on with him.
My mind drifted back to yesterday. I'd been outside the bus, working up the courage to go inside to grab some lunch, when the satellite phone rang.
Doug had kept his voice low, but the metal walls had carried sound better than he'd realized.
He'd been begging someone for more time, and I'd assumed it was about our dig site funding.
But then his tone had shifted to sharp and fierce.
"Don't you touch her. I told you to stay away from her. "
My stomach had dropped. Who was her?
Was he telling someone to stay away from me?
When I'd finally gone inside, his hands had been shaking as he stubbed out a cigarette in an overflowing ashtray.
I'd asked if everything was okay, and he'd nearly bitten my head off and told me to mind my own damn business.
Then he immediately apologized and said it was just family stuff, his ex-wife causing problems. Yet as I'd walked out, I caught him checking out my ass again.
Which he did all the bloody time.
The only thing that seemed to interest him was my ass, and if I caught him ogling me one more time, I was going to introduce his nose to my fist.
Mitch stood with his arms folded, biceps flexed, eyes sharp. If he was worried about Doug, he didn't show it.
Or maybe he just didn't give a shit.
Either way, neither of them was backing down, and I sure as hell didn't need that bullshit.
"All right," I said, keeping my voice firm enough to snap their attention to me. "We're wet, exhausted, and stuck in a cave until that storm blows over." Another wave of brown water crashed along the ravine below. "But we have a problem. That water's still rising."
Doug snorted and glared at Mitch. "That's not our only problem."
I drew a breath and stepped forward, planting myself where I could face them both.
"Look, we have no way to prove who is right at the moment, but the truth will come out.
If we have a permit, it'll be on record, and Mitch will be wrong.
If we don't…" I turned to Doug, holding his gaze. "Then we're in deep shit."
"Of course, I got a permit." He scowled at me with eyes so sharp and oily my skin crawled. "He's a liar."
Ignoring his outburst, I pivoted back to Mitch. "Thank you again for saving me… and for not letting him drown, even though I bet you wish you had."
Doug muttered under his breath.
Mitch gave me another measured nod. He was silent and unreadable. Yet somehow, his steadiness calmed the storm inside me.
He turned a glare at Doug so fierce that Doug stepped back.
Good. Doug deserved it for not saying thank you.
"There's nothing we can do now," I said. "So, let's save the shouting and accusations for when we're not soaking wet and stuck in a cave above a rising river, yeah?"
Neither of them said a word.
Fine. I'd said what needed to be said. What they did with it was up to them.
Shaking my head, I moved to the edge of the cave and leaned against the stone wall. The rain was incredible, spitting from the sky with such force it seemed angry. Every time thunder cracked overhead, I jumped.
At least, now, the silence between the men wasn't quite so hostile.
As the afternoon dragged on, the storm didn't let up.
It grew worse. The flooded river below showed no sign of slowing.
The creek was no longer a creek, it was a full-blown river, surging higher and angrier, tearing at the banks and carving a new path through the landscape.
My heart ached for my precious fossils that were washed away.
How could this be happening?
Doug kept moving to the mouth of the cave, muttering curses under his breath, darting his gaze from the swollen floodwater to Mitch, then back to me.
If that floodwater didn't stop rising soon, we could be in real trouble.
Although the trouble in this cave was just as scary. Every time Doug met my gaze, he shook his head as if I'd betrayed him, like he was blaming me for the weather, the cave, the flood, or his own damn lies. Maybe all of it.
But what really scared me was the way he looked at Mitch.
With absolute loathing.
It wasn't just resentment anymore, it was pure rage, as though he hated Mitch for questioning him. Or for saving me. Or maybe just because Mitch was right, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.
Mitch, however, was the opposite. He sat quietly against the rock wall, as calm as a man waiting for a bus.
His arms rested on his knees, and though his eyes were alert, he didn't flinch when Doug paced or react when Doug muttered "bastard" or "asshole" or some other bullshit. Mitch didn't take the bait.
Yet his calmness seemed to make him even more dangerous.
Mitch was a man in control. Doug was unhinged.
I needed a distraction from them and my growling stomach, and the silence in the cave was oppressive, except when the booming thunder jolted the crap out of me.
I sat down and shifted on the dirt floor, angling toward Mitch. "So…" I cleared my throat. "How long have you lived on this property?"
"All my life." He didn't even blink. Or look at me.
But the way he said it rang hollow, like it wasn't the whole truth.
He had a coiled intensity about him that wasn't just about physical strength.
My best friend Harper's husband had that same edge. Tommy was military-trained, hyper-aware, and never fully relaxed, not even with the woman he loved. He carried his service in the Iraq war on his shoulders.
Mitch Branson carried invisible weight, too. Maybe not a war, but definitely some kind of armor.
I tried again. "I'm guessing you don't run a place this size by yourself. Do you have family helping out?"
"Yep."
Right. A man of many words.
"How big is the property?" I asked, more to keep the conversation going than anything.
"Over a million hectares." His tone was as flat as the landscape outside.
I let out a low whistle. "That's massive. I can't even imagine how you manage that much land."
"Yeah, well, we do."
From the corner of my eye, Doug stopped pacing, and his gaze snapped toward Mitch with a mixture of suspicion and hostility. "And you just happened to be near our dig site today?" He squared his shoulders, winding up for a fight.
Mitch folded his arms, revealing a tattoo on his bicep that I couldn't quite make out. "Yeah, I was."
His tone convinced me there was more behind that answer. Sensing a dangerous shift in the energy between them, I said. "What about your family? Do they still live on this farm? Parents? Siblings?"
Mitch gave a single nod. "Some."
That was it. No elaboration. The cowboy was a damn wall.
Doug's jaw twitched. "Have you ever seen dinosaur bones on this land before?"
Mitch cracked his neck and locked eyes with him. "None of your damn business."
The words hit like a whipcrack.
Doug flinched but didn't look away. They were two bulls, sizing each other up, both ready to charge.
The air thickened with tension.
I opened my mouth to say something that would steer the conversation somewhere safer, but my thoughts veered to those incredible dinosaur specimens I'd uncovered with my own hands. The prehistoric skull with its intact jawline, the perfectly preserved teeth still attached to the bone.
My chest squeezed tight.
I stared at the red dirt between my boots, blinking hard, but I couldn't hold back my tears.