On his first day on a dig in California, gunshots awaken Ian Tunbridge, an assistant curator of classical antiquities at the British Museum. The only way to save his life is to run for it, but luck is not on his side. At least, not until he meets Lucas Arpini, the brash American photographer who seems to have some sort of clue what's going on. Together, they're supposed to be the tools in finding an artifact nobody believes is real - nobody, that is, except Lucas and the man who has kidnapped both of them.
Ian doesn't know what to believe. His colleagues are dead, he's injured, and he has no choice but to put his faith in a gorgeous stranger. Their escape should lead them straight to the police, but when Lucas shows him pieces of the puzzle they were meant to solve, Ian is too intrigued to walk away. He wants to solve the riddle as badly as Lucas does.
Unfortunately, they're not the only ones...
EXCERPT
...“You’re a nature photographer?” Ian asked.
“Nature, people, things,” Lucas said. “I don’t discriminate. Wherever the thrill is, that’s where I’ll be.”
“Why would Sultis be interested in a photographer?”
“He’s not interested in my work. He’s interested in me.” Lucas glanced up at him curiously. “He really didn’t tell you anything, did he?”
“I believe I’ve told you that multiple times already.”
The ground forked, one side slanting into a sharp incline. Ian stopped, forcing Lucas to stop as well, and directed the light upward, trying to assess whether it was a natural ramp or something else.
“That doesn’t actually go anywhere,” Lucas said.
That made the choice simple. They resumed walking along the flat path.
“Are you going to tell me why it is Sultis is interested in either one of us?” Ian asked. “Or are we going to continue this twenty questions game we seem to have established?”
“He needs us to find the Blood of Sheol.”
Ian jerked to another halt, this time straightening so abruptly Lucas lost his grip. He shone the torch directly in the other man’s face, searching for any sign of duplicity or humor. The only thing he discovered was that his eyes were not actually brown but a very deep hazel.
“The Blood of Sheol is a myth,” Ian said.
Lucas smiled. “So you’ve heard of it.”
“Of course I’ve heard of it. I’ve also heard of the Loch Ness monster, but that doesn’t make it any more real.”
“Sultis thinks it is.”
“And you’ve already established you think he’s an idiot. That’s hardly sway enough for me to believe either one of you.”
“But you clearly place some sort of value on my opinion, or you wouldn’t automatically discount Sultis. So if I told you I think he just might be onto something, what would you tell me then?”
“Exactly what I’ve already said. It’s a myth, and anyone who believes otherwise is a fool.” He shook his head. “How do you know about it, anyway? You said you didn’t have any archaeological education.”
“I looked it up when Sultis told me about it.”
He said it with all seriousness, and though Ian kept expecting the punch line, Lucas remained silent, waiting most likely for Ian’s next query.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve put both of our lives on the line for a Google search.”
At least he had the grace to look sheepish. “Well, when you put it like that…”
Ian blinked. He didn’t even know what to say to the man. This entire nightmare was due to some madman’s belief in a myth that every respectable archaeologist would dismiss in a heartbeat and a thrill-seeking photographer who relied on the Internet for actual facts? It was ludicrous. Beyond ludicrous. It was…for all his education, he didn’t think a word existed that could encompass just how absurd it really was.
“You asked,” Lucas said. “And I told you what it was about. Whether you choose to believe me or not is another matter.”
“How could you possibly think that I would even entertain such a fantasy?” Ian spluttered. “If you’re so aware of my education, you should have known exactly how I would view this.”
“Which might be why I didn’t come right out and tell you.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and jerked his head toward the unknown in front of them. “Let’s argue about this when we don’t have to worry about Sultis breathing down our necks. Or it’s all going to be a moot point anyway.”
Ian could have stood there and debated the danger in lending credence to mythology when there were so many real world artifacts to be had and appreciated. But Lucas was right about one thing. Their well-being was in peril, especially since they’d deliberately chosen to try and escape Sultis’s clutches. Their only choice at this junction was to set aside personal differences and find a way to freedom...
