Found in the Lost

FOUND IN THE LOST THE LEONIDAS CORPORATION BOOK ONE TARINA DEATON Edited by JESSICA SNYDER TARINA DEATON LLC Copyright © 2022 by Tarina Deaton All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Editor: Jessica Snyder Cover Design: Lori Jackson, Lori Loves Books For those who are still searching. Not all who wander are lost. CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 About the Author Also by Tarina Deaton CHAPTER 1 Kinley Dunn paced the length of the small arrivals hall of the Flores, Guatemala airport. Thirty-four steps one way, thirty-four steps the other way. She’d made the trip twelve times, checking her phone at the end of each round trip for any message from her mentor. Nothing. Dr. Banks wasn’t answering any of her calls either. She’d checked the date, her previous emails, the calendar invite, her tickets, her hotel reservation in Carmelita—everything she could think of to verify she was where she was supposed to be, when she was supposed to be. Being invited on this dig was the chance of a lifetime, especially since she wasn’t a field-trained archaeologist. This was her opportunity to show that it didn’t matter if all of her experience was in the classroom. So what if she didn’t have thousand-year-old dirt under her nails? She still had something to offer. Stopping at the end of another round trip, she closed her eyes. “You were specifically invited on this trip because you did what no one else has been able to do. Your input into this discovery will be invaluable and change everything scholars thought they knew about Mayan culture and history. You are not a fraud.” She sighed after whispering her self-pep talk and glanced around, looking for any friendly face. Her gaze caught on the mop of blond curls and broad shoulders of a guy sitting in one of the many rows of chairs in the waiting area. Nice. But even a square jaw and five o’clock shadow couldn’t distract her from the predicament of being stranded at an airport in Guatemala. No matter what she told herself, she couldn’t not worry that someone had decided she shouldn’t be there and just forgot to tell her because she was insignificant and not worth the time. Slipping her arms from the straps of her large pack, she let it fall to the floor and stifled a groan. After a bend at the waist to stretch the abused muscles of her lower back, she settled the pack between her legs, half under the worn leather seat, and sat down at the end of an empty row. She had to bite the bullet. She had to call the other team lead. Taking a deep breath, she hit the dial button and exhaled slowly while it rang. “Dr. Biert.” Kinley expelled the rest of her breath upon hearing his curt answer. “Dr. Biert, this is Kinley Dunn. I’m sorry to bother you, but have you heard from Dr. Banks? She was supposed to meet me—” “No. I haven’t. Why are you calling me?” Kinley bit back her initial curt response. “She was supposed to meet me at the Flores airport to take me to Carmelita, but she’s not here.” “And?” She looked down at the toes of her well-worn hiking boots and tapped her feet. “Do you know if there’s someone else coming to meet me?” “How the hell would I know that? Quit wasting my time with your petty issues and figure it out.” With that, he ended the call. Kinley pressed her lips together and mouthed, “Asshole.” One of the most knowledgeable archaeologists in their field or not, he was still a grade A jerk. Since he hadn’t told her that she’d wasted her time and was no longer needed, she would have to figure out how to get herself to Carmelita now and figure out what happened to Dr. Banks later. She opened the web browser on her phone and searched for transportation from Flores to Carmelita. “Damn it,” she muttered. The last bus left twenty minutes ago. “Excuse me.” Kinley looked up from her phone. A man leaned over the seat between them, smiling at her with his perfect white teeth. She hadn’t even noticed him sit down. With his crisp, white button-down, black slacks and perfectly coifed hair, he looked out of place among the tourists and local travelers. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” he said. “I am heading to Carmelita myself—I’m happy to offer you a ride.” His English held a hint of an accent, the kind that should be sexy. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Nothing in his outward appearance screamed sinister serial killer, but something didn’t feel right about the offer. Call it her sixth sense or female intuition, but whatever it was told her not to accept the offer. “Thank you, but I’ll figure it out,” she said. “It can be very tedious to get from Flores to Carmelita on the bus. I have a private car. I promise I am a perfect gentleman.” What was it the internet said? If a guy has to tell you he’s a nice guy, he’s not a nice guy? Every hair on her body was waving at her, shouting, “Stranger danger!” “I’m meeting a group of friends at their hotel tonight,” she lied. “I’ll ride with them in the morning.” He shrugged and tilted his head. “As you wish. Good luck on your journey.” He stood and slipped a hand in his pants pocket to pull out a pair of sunglasses, sliding them on his face as he walked toward