Doug's mouth clamped shut.
Smart.
For now.
"Doesn't matter what I say. You won't believe me.” He glared at Charlie. “Why are you taking his word over mine? You don't even know him. He could be a poacher, wanting our dinosaur bones."
Charlie's eyes flicked between us as though she was calculating which of us was more dangerous. "Are you?" she asked. "A poacher?"
"Nope." I didn't blink. Didn't flinch.
Outside, the storm roared louder.
No one spoke.
Doug prowled back and forth, boots grating on stone. Each step screamed of desperation. He was rattled, and he should be. He had no way out of this.
That made him dangerous.
With the storm just getting started, we were trapped in here together for a while.
Lightning split the sky, turning the cave mouth electric white for one blinding second.
In that flash, Charlie's fierce gaze found mine.
Doug's hand tightened on the rifle strap.
This cave just got a whole lot smaller.
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.