Free The Bone Hunters by Robert J. Mrazek

a little while, Steve,” she said. “Want to join me for lunch?”
    â€œCan’t,” he said. “Have a lot to do today.”
    His plan was to drink himself back into a semistupor and sleep the rest of the day. She looked at him wistfully and walked down the bar to serve the other customers. In truth, she didn’t understand why she was so drawn to him. New York had nearly cured her of men.
    There was something different about him. The fact that he had the same tall, rugged good looks of a young Gregory Peck was only part of it. There was an air of nobility about him, as if he had once been somebody or done something important. He had those sad blue eyes.And there was the dangerous side. One night at the bar, a hulking Russian tourist tried to force one of the local girls to go with him. Macaulay had put him in the hospital.
    A week after he took over the job as backup pilot for the Hurdnut Air Charter Services, she made her play. He had gotten so drunk that night that he needed help getting back to his tiny beach cottage. After removing his clothes and putting him to bed, she had taken off her dress and joined him under the covers.
    It hadn’t worked out as she had planned. When she felt him stirring in the morning, she slid in close and kissed him, at the same time gently exploring his lower body with her skillful fingers. Giving physical pleasure had been her greatest talent and she felt him immediately rise to the occasion.
    â€œWake up, Sleeping Beauty,” she whispered.
    Opening his eyes, he grinned up at her.
    â€œThanks,” he said almost shyly, “but this probably isn’t a good idea.”
    When she kissed him again, he slowly pulled away from her and sat up.
    â€œIt would be better if you pitched in,” she said.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said, his back to her.
    â€œAbout what?”
    â€œI’m just not looking for this right now,” he said.
    It might have been awkward except for the fact that she had slept with hundreds of men and had seen it all. He certainly wasn’t gay. It was more probable he hadn’t gotten over something. Or someone.
    â€œSee you later, amigo,” she had said.
    From then on they were just good friends.
    Macaulay was on his third hangover cure before the pain began to recede from behind his eyes. By then, the wind was clocking a solid thirty miles an hour and all flights had been canceled at Dangriga Airport. The bar began to fill up.
    He was feeling the warmth of the alcohol in his stomach when the image of Lexy’s face came roaring back into his mind. He could even hear the cadence of her voice. He wondered how she might have changed in the last year, if she was with another man. The bleak emptiness of his own life stretched into the future. He closed his eyes and pounded his fist down on the bar. When he opened them again, Carlos was standing there.
    â€œWhy you be mad, Steef?” he said.
    â€œI’m not mad.”
    Carlos was their airplane mechanic on the Grumman Goose. He was illiterate when it came to words, but when it came to engines, he was a modern Shakespeare. Sparrow-chested with a gaunt, handsome face, Carlos was probably in his early forties, although he didn’t know for sure.
    â€œYou sure be look mad,” said Carlos. “You not be happy, that’s for sure, Steef.”
    â€œHappiness is overrated,” said Macaulay before ordering a glass of straight rum.
    Carlos had grown up in the interior to a mother who was descended from the ancient Mayans. His father had been a Puerto Rican named Carlos who had arrived in Belize with a hotel construction crew. By the time the resort was finished, the girl was pregnant and Carlos was gone. She had named the boy after him.
    Carlos took in the new barmaid. She was deeply endowed.
    â€œHe be something, no, Steef?” he said, his voice raspy from his constant smoking.
    In addition to his fractured English, Carlos always got his