“I doubt it,” she said. For a moment she thought he’d say or do something she wasn’t going to like, but he only barked a laugh, turned on his heel, and began to walk away.
She grabbed her pack, snatched up Liam’s mosquito netting, and followed. Now what? He had her watch, and she should make an effort to retrieve it. She should try to go back through the tunnel to her own time, but she’d already done that; it emphatically hadn’t worked. She was just beginning to realize the full, and frightening, implications of what she had done.
Just by somehow coming back to the past I may have changed the future already. How can I possibly be sure? The longer I’m here, the more risk that I’ll mess something up. No one knows the consequences of something like this, and Liam O’Shea definitely isn’t the one to share the burden with.
Oh, hell.
“Are you coming?” Liam called. He’d stopped at the opposite border of the ruins, where the real jungle began. Hands on hips, he glared at her as if he’d like nothing better than to charge off without her. He certainly hadn’t issued her a formal invitation to accompany him back to his camp. But he was waiting, and it was nearly dusk, and he had her watch, and she didn’t know what else to do…
“I think I’d rather stay here,” she blurted.
He gave an eloquent shrug. “Suit yourself. I don’t doubt that you can repel scorpions, poisonous serpents, jaguars, and hostile guerrillas bare-handed.” He tossed his sack over his shoulder and turned on his heel, disappearing among the trees and heavy foliage.
Oh, that was bright, Mac. Reject the only connection you have to reality. And your only protection in this jungle.
She scowled at the cowardly thought. Protection, my foot. I’m not some sheltered little Victorian female who can’t take care of herself. I don’t need him. She threw the mosquito net in a heap beside the temple wall and flung herself down on it, slapping at bugs with more energy than accuracy. Her repellant had decided to give up the ghost.
And it was definitely getting darker. The sun had all but vanished behind the horizon of trees. She looked skyward, listening to the voice of the wilderness. The monkeys and birds were setting up their daily dusk symphony of screeches, howls, and roars. They weren’t dangerous, but there were the scorpions, snakes, and jaguars Liam had mentioned. None, in all probability, as much of a threat as the man himself.
What was she thinking? He wasn’t a threat. If there was a threat, it wasn’t to her. It was to Liam himself. She wasn’t even sure when it was, or where, or how it would happen. Only that he was going to die, and she was sitting here feeling sorry for herself.
Mac dropped her head into her hands. If Homer’d been right and Great-great-grandfather Sinclair had murdered his partner, and she was here where it happened, shouldn’t she be doing something about it?
Like what, Mac? Play bodyguard? Wait around until Perry shows up, if he does show up, and fling myself between them? Change history completely without understanding the consequences—if I could do it at all?
Or let it all occur the way it was supposed to, knowing she could have prevented an act of murder.
Her head had begun to ache in earnest. This must be some kind of cosmic joke. Was Homer somewhere up there masterminding the whole thing?
You overestimate me, Homer. I’m not cut out for playing God.
With an explosive breath Mac jumped to her feet. She couldn’t just sit here thinking in circles—
“Change your mind yet?”
Mac thought she’d never been so grateful to hear an irksome voice in all her life. Liam sauntered into the dim aura of light, cocking a supercilious brow. “I have a fire going,” he said. “You might as well join me. There isn’t much food, but you won’t starve.”
Starve. Mac tried to remember the last time she’d eaten. Her stomach chose that juncture to loudly second Liam’s suggestion. She slapped her hand under her ribs to silence it.