Title: Treasure Hunt
Author: J. H. Bográn
Publisher: Chippewa Publishing LLC
Rating: Strong Content (Language, violence, and strong themes may apply.)
Available in e-format at: Chippewa, Amazon, Mobipocket , Fictionwise and Coffee Time Romance
By J. H. Bográn
Jamie pulled back a second before Falcon did. Their lips still a few
inches apart. She could still taste the salty flavor of his mouth on
hers. Maybe this wasn't the time, or the place, but if felt good to be
held by someone, even if she didn't know his real name. She trusted
him. He had saved her life twice in less than one day. He was smart,
careful, cunning, she could have not found anyone better. Except that
he could never be hers. She would not fit into his way of life, and he
wouldn't be able to settle into a life of archeological digs,
fund-raising luncheons, and board meetings. They both had lonely
"I think we better get some sleep." Falcon sat back, and yawned.
"I'm tired but I can't sleep," she said trying to figure out this man
who only a moment before had held her in a passionate embrace. Now, he
was almost cold. He said his real name was Michael, she was getting
used to that instead of Falcon.
Michael reached into his front pocket and pulled out a small bottle,
"Here, take one of these. It'll help you go to sleep. We have a hard
day tomorrow and I need my partner well rested," he handed her one
pill and took one his own.
A freaking pill! I kiss the bastard, then he slips me a Mickey to put
me to sleep? I must be losing my touch. Jamie took a leery look at the
tiny pro-offered pill. "What is it?" she asked after turning the
flashlight back on to stare at it.
"I'm not sure."
"You're not sure?" He's got to be kidding. He expects me to take some
He shook his head. "I got them at the drugstore in the hotel. I just
got back from Europe and the time difference was killing me. I took
one before bed for two nights to force my body into Nueva España's
time," he explained.
"Did they work?"
"They're great," he assured her.
"I need something to swallow this. Hand me a drink, will you?" She
twisted the top of the bottle he handed her. "I'm not this thirsty,
mind if we share?"
He shook his head. So Jamie took a swing, swallowing the pill, and
handed it to him.
He grabbed the bottle, put a pill in his own mouth and took a sip from
"Ahgg! Pineapple! I hate it! Sorry, the deal is off," he said as he
spit the liquid out.
Jamie couldn't control her laughter, and took the bottle away from
him. "Okay, sissy. I'll drink it all then." She liked the flavor just
fine. As the pills worked, they sat against the side wall of the
tunnel. She laid her head on Michael's shoulder and closed her eyes.
Falcon could not see anything in the darkness. He didn't want to run
out of batteries with the night vision goggles unnecessarily so he
just sat back and tried to relax in the dungeon tunnel under the dead
people, and hugged the soft figure huddling next to him like a
sleeping angel. It was safe enough down here, he supposed. He had
locked the gate behind them so there wouldn't be any surprises; at
least that's what he hoped.
"The new dawn might bring hope, to enlighten the soul," he mused as he
looked up at the dusty ceiling.
"Not for you, mind you," he said to the corpses that lay, unseen
above. "But, hey, can't help the living for their prayers."
"That is my wish, for the new day to come," said Jamie.
Michael jerked in surprise as her sleepy gaze looked up at him.
"You read poetry too!"
"Not really, but that verse always touched a cord, don't know why."
"Well, that is Sebastian Walbo. If you hope for the new day you must
be an optimist. You know, folks who see the glass half-full."
"Don't analyze me! You're an archaeologist, not a shrink!"
"Have you ever consulted one? A psychologist, I mean," she asked in
the middle of a yawn. Her head dropped back down to his chest, the
pill was taking affect again. She'd be out for good soon.
"No, I prefer a priest. They don't charge you three hundred dollars
and hour to tell you what you already know, but can't admit."
"Never figured you for the church going type. Unbelievable!"
"I don't go to church that much, but having a friend that happens to
be a priest helps every now and then."
END OF EXCERPT
Now you can read the complete Chapter One for free by clicking HERE!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Born and raised in Honduras, J. H. Bográn has always been interested in writing. Son of a journalist, he ironically prefers to write fiction rather than fact. In his professional life he has worked in the garment industry for the past 15 years, in the areas of Quality and Merchandising. In true Honduran tradition, where college classes start after 5 p.m. so students can hold down day jobs, he went to work fresh out of high school, and took night classes to finish college.
He currently resides in his hometown, happily married, and looking after his three sons.
You can find out more about J. H. Bográn by visiting his Website, Blog or My Space!
You can read the full poem “Drifting” by clicking HERE!