Page 2 of Queen Isabella

Since Jen was nearing her delivery date, they had taken the local job, so the hospital wasn’t far, and neither was the museum that housed their lab.

Isa wished them well, waving as the pair drove off. She had to load the rest of the equipment by herself, since the rest of their crew was on the Yucatan job. That’s where she would be if Jen wasn’t pregnant. Isa was jealous of the men and wished she could be there when they opened the crypt. Sadly, there was no way she would’ve received a travel permit to work with the all-male crew, even if her father signed off on it. The government had its rules and asinine or not she had to adhere to them.

Maybe next season, she sighed as she loaded the last of the unearthed artifacts into the van.

Her mind spun as she flew the van back to the museum. It was only an assumption that there’d be a next season. It was quite possible there wouldn’t be, at least not for her. Jen might retire to take care of the baby. That’s what was expected of mothers. Then Harvey would no longer have a use for her. Itdidn’t really matter how good of an archaeologist she was, she was still a woman, and somehow that automatically made her a second-class citizen. It pissed her off that that’s the kind of world she lived in.

Isa’s eyes widened when the flashing lights in the rear viewscreen captured her attention.

“Dammit. What did I do?” Isa frowned as she found a stretch of road that wasn’t filled with pedestrians and set the van down.

She quickly located her documents, lowered the window, shut the hover van off, and put her hands on the dash as required.

“Do you know you failed to signal as you went around that high rise?” the officer said as he approached.

He saw her and his eyes narrowed.

“No. Sorry, sir. I thought I had it on autopilot.” Isa glanced at the console, but the vehicle was already off so there was no way to tell at the moment.

The officer peered into the van. He then looked at the museum logo on the side of the vehicle.

“My sponsor’s wife went into labor, otherwise they’d be right in front of me,” she quickly provided as the officer eyed her critically. She had a permit, so it wasn’t illegal for her to drive without her sponsor, but it was still frowned upon. “Here are my documents.” She started to reach for them in her lap.

“Don’t move!” the officer barked.

She slapped her hands back on the dash. The officer yanked the door open, and roughly snatched her documents off her lap. The surly man briefly glanced at her government ID and work permit, then tossed them on the dash.

“Another uppity working woman!” he murmured as he went to the side door. “What are you hauling?” He tugged the van open.

Her stomach knotted at his comment. She’d heard snide remarks about working women, but not from an officer, probably because she’d never been pulled over before.

“Uh, digging tools and artifacts.” Isa frowned as she looked back at him. “I’m coming from a dig site and heading straight to the Metropolis Museum.”

To her surprise the officer opened one of the totes and dumped the cataloged bags onto the van floor.

“Whoa, wait a minute! Those are organized by location and some of those artifacts are very fragile. They’re hundreds of years old!” she objected.

“Don’t you dare speak to me that way! One more word and I’ll teach you the manners your father obviously didn’t,” the officer snapped.

Isa quickly faced forward, fear coursing up her spine. She had no doubt the officer would make good on the threat. She’d heard horror stories. Isa bit her tongue as the officer destroyed priceless history with his rough search. He was carelessly rummaging through the third crate when he abruptly stopped.

“I need back up! We have a projectile weapon!” the officer barked into his comm as he spun and pointed his stun gun at her. “Don’t move!”

“But-but the gun is hundreds of years old. It’s rusted. It can’t possibly fire.” Isa started to panic, tears springing in her eyes.

Before she knew what was happening, she was arrested and hauled into the station.

“Sit!” The guard shoved her into the three-foot square room and pointed at the chair in front of the viewscreen.

She was still shaking from the arrest and had been waiting anxiously inside the women’s cell for the last few hours. As she sat, the screen flickered on. It was her father. He was so livid the vein in his forehead was throbbing. Behind him was her brother, Saul, looking equally enraged.

“That you would dare to shame this family this way is the final straw,” her father hissed.

She’d been praying for an ounce of sympathy or the benefit of a doubt, but that hope instantly fled along with the air in her lungs.

“Your message arrived while Mary’s parents were at our house. If you ruined my engagement…” Saul seethed. It was the third woman he’d tried to marry. His personality was the problem.

Her father held his hand up, silencing him, then focused on her again. “You are on your own from here on. I cast you out.”

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