The words exploded from him as he slammed the door to the cabin. This was his dig. His. And that damn bitch was taking it over.How had she known the chamber was there without a survey? How?The Ogham on the stones might have told her—if she could read it. But she had no training in linguistic archaeology. So how was that possible?It wasn’t.Perhaps the discovery had been an accident. Just luck. And this obsession she had with the altar— If there really was someone buried inside, that too would be another discovery she would gain credit for.Rage raced through him, and his face and ears burnt. He drew a deep breath and focused on slowing his heartbeat, his breathing, so he might think more clearly.What could he do about her? He could find a way for her to have an accident and be done with her permanently. But thus far, she was driving the dig forward at a faster pace than had been expected. In fact, every time a big find had been discovered, the skull, the chamber, she had been in the midst of it.Was it important who got the credit at this point?
