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overnight mail bin. She returned to their office and studied Lee, who was filling out paperwork for personnel. Maybe if she bored him to tears, he’d leave her alone.
    She cleared her throat to get his attention. “I’ve got a cell tower site to visit. While I’m gone, I want you to read the regs that govern our work. Look them up online. Start with the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966, as amended. Focus on Section 106—it’s the primary driver for the work we do. When you’re done with that, read the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act—NAGPRA; and the Archaeological Resources Protection Act—known as ARPA.” She held back a smile. He’d be asleep before he got through Section 106.
    Lee turned back to his paperwork, dismissing her. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”
    Tomorrow. The National Archives. Lee was connected to a bigwig, and it was her job to train him. Bad enough she was ditching him now so she could go back to the reservation; Janice would be angry if she ditched him all day tomorrow as well. She couldn’t screw up her job, not now. “We’ll meet at the Archives as soon as it opens. I want you to look up their research protocol online.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I’ve never been there before. Find out what time they open and what we can bring with us—computers, papers, pencils, purses, that sort of thing. Call me on my cell and let me know what you find out.” She gave him her number.
    “Tech support still has my laptop, and I need a network ID to access the Internet.”
    She hesitated, but really, she had no choice. “Use my computer.” She pulled her company ID card from the lanyard around her neck. “This plugs into the card slot and will give you access to the network.” She placed a hand on the table and leaned over him. “If you lose my ID, you’ll be my new workout bag.”
    The warm glint in his eye said he had already begun to fantasize. “Yes, ma’am.”
    He moved to her desk and inserted the card while she gathered her purse and project files.
    “What’s your password?” he asked.
    Oh damn!
    He was looking at her, waiting.
    “Riversong. One word, lowercase.” She turned on her heel and left before he could ask any questions.

C HAPTER F IVE

    T UESDAY MORNING, L EE STOOD in front of the National Archives building in College Park, Maryland, and watched Erica’s car pull into the lot. He braced himself for the coming day and wished he’d taken acting classes. Maybe then he’d do a better job of staying in character.
    At least yesterday had been successful. After she’d left the office, he’d used her ID to hack into the Bethesda server and create a network client that couldn’t be traced to him. He hadn’t been able to access the Iraq project files, but he’d evaluated the security. It would take him a few days to break through the firewall. Less if Erica would stop dragging him along on these annoying field trips.
    Erica’s dark sandals made a steady tapping sound as she crossed the parking lot. He liked the way her knee-length black skirt and tight-fitting burgundy blouse clung to her hips and breasts. Too bad she hadn’t been wearing this outfit when she draped herself over the pool table. He could appreciate her looks and enjoy their verbal sparring, but he couldn’t lose sight of the fact that his sexy supervisor was a prime suspect for stateside conspirator in an international artifact smuggling ring.
    Questions simmered in his mind, but he’d pushed his cover to the limit yesterday and knew it would be a serious mistake to ask her about her password today. She was only a few feet away, so he started their first argument of the day. “You’re late.”
    Her tentative smile was replaced by a look of annoyance and she glanced at her watch. “It’s nine thirty. I’m right on time.”
    “The archives opened at eight forty-five.”
    “You told me the archives opened at nine thirty.”
    “No, I said the first pull was at nine