Diana Jones
Sam Ursu
Diana Jones
by Sam Ursu
Copyright Information
Diana Jones: Book 1
By Sam Ursu
© 2025 Sam Ursu
All rights reserved.
Author: Sam Ursu
Contact details: samursuauthor.grunt941@passinbox.com
Book cover, illustration: Sam Ursu
Editing, proofreading: Sam Ursu
This e-book, including its portions, is protected by copyright and may not be reproduced, resold, or redistributed without the permission of the author.
Table of Contents
Copyright Information
Table of Contents
Diana Jones and the Sapphire Serpent
Diana Jones and The Tomb of the Taklamakan
Diana Jones and Secrets of the Siberian Storm]
Diana Jones and The Atlantean Amulet
Diana Jones and Curse of the Crimson Cranium
Diana Jones and the Sapphire Serpent
Diana strutted into the cantina, her blonde hair damp and clinging to her neck from the Yucatán’s sticky heat. The wooden door groaned shut behind her as she adjusted the straps of her backpack, her leather miniskirt gleaming faintly under the dim overhead lights.
Her phone buzzed, Rex Jones’s name glaring on the screen. She smirked, answered, and cut off his bellowing—“Get your ass back to Dallas, young lady!”—mid-sentence. “Not today, Dad,” she said aloud, her voice dry as she tossed the phone onto a scarred table.
Turning to the bar, she snapped her fingers at the bartender. “Una tequila por favor.” A shot slid her way; she knocked it back in one swift gulp, slamming the glass down without a flinch, her gaze already locked on her target.
Mateo Castillo leaned against the bar, one hand resting on his motorcycle helmet, watching her with a mix of amusement and disbelief.
At twenty-two, he was a vision of rugged beauty—sun-kissed skin stretched over high cheekbones, tousled black hair falling into smoldering dark eyes, and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. His faded T-shirt hugged broad shoulders, and a faint scar above his brow only added to his roguish allure.
Girls usually melted under his lazy grin, but Diana didn’t—she marched right up, leather skirt creaking, and planted her hands on her hips, a crumpled map in her fist. “You’re the guide?” she demanded, in English.
Mateo blinked, thrown by her behavior. “Yeah. But... you’re the treasure hunter?"
"Damn right," said Diana, ignoring the incredulous look on his face. "Got a problem with that, amigo? I'm hiring you to take me to the cenote ruins. Unless you’re too pretty to handle it."
Mateo's grin faltered. He wasn’t used to being dismissed, and damn if it didn’t make him want her attention more.
Mateo slung his helmet onto the bar and grabbed his keys, still reeling from Diana’s sharp tongue. “Fine. Let’s go, princesa,” he said, testing her with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes, snatched the crumpled map from her fist, and shoved past him toward the door. “Call me that again, and you’ll be eating dirt,” she shot back, her leather skirt creaking as she led the way outside.
Mateo jogged to catch up, swinging a leg over the bike and kick starting the engine with a roar. “Climb on. And hold tight, unless you want to test that skirt against the road.”
Diana responded by hiking her skirt all the way up and sliding in behind him, her arms locking around his waist with a grip that made him suck in a breath. “Drive,” she ordered, her breath hot against his ear.
Mateo gunned it, the bike lurching onto a rutted jungle path, vines soon slapping at their sides. “You sure you want to be going out there, gringa?" he called back to his passenger.
She tightened her hold, pressing her crotch up against his backside. “I’ve got the map, don’t I? Keep up, pretty boy.”
Mateo's heart thudded, half from the speed, half from her fire. The jungle thickened, and a cenote’s dark shimmer soon appeared through the trees.
Two minutes later, and the cenote came into full view, its deep blue water glinting like a secret beneath the jungle canopy. Diana slid off before he could kill the engine, her leather skirt falling back into place as she took out the map from her backpack.
“There,” she said, pointing to a jagged cliff edge. “The temple should be just past that drop.” She started forward, boots crunching on twigs, not waiting for him.
“Hey, hold up,” Mateo called, scrambling off the bike. He grabbed a coil of rope from his saddlebag and jogged after her, his dark eyes flicking between her shapely bare legs and the treacherous terrain. “It's not safe to be in the jungle without wearing pants.”
Diana shot him a look over her shoulder, a grin on her face. “Worry about yourself, amigo. I’ve got this.”
She reached the cliff first, peering down the twenty-foot drop to the cenote’s edge. Without a word, she snatched the rope from Mateo’s hands, tied it to a sturdy tree, and tested the knot with a sharp tug.
“Good enough,” she muttered, then swung herself over the edge and started rappelling down the side of the cliff. Mateo stared, mouth dry, then followed, his boots slipping once before he caught himself.
At the bottom, Diana landed lightly, brushing dirt off her hands. She pointed to faint carvings on the cenote’s rocky wall, her green eyes gleaming. “Mayan. We’re definitely in the right place.”
Mateo hit the ground beside her, breathless, his heart pounding from more than the drop. “You’re insane,” he said, half in awe.
She grinned. “Don't be jealous.”
Diana crouched by the cenote’s carvings, tracing the weathered lines with her fingertips as Mateo caught his breath beside her. The air hummed with insects, thick and heavy.
After a few minutes, she stood, wiping her hands on her thighs, and started along the water’s edge toward a narrow path snaking through the trees. “Temple’s that way,” she said.
Mateo fell into step, his boots splashing in shallow puddles as he eyed her. “So what’s the deal, gringa? Why this place?” He ducked a low branch, his tone casual but curious. “The tourists usually prefer to go to the beach.”
Diana kept her eyes on the path, her boots scarcely making a sound on the cracked rock. “It’s called the Serpent’s Eye. A sapphire the Mayans hid from the conquistadors. Worth a fortune.”
“Ah,” he said, stepping closer as the jungle closed in, vines brushing his shoulders. “It figures. Another foreigner come here to rob us of our national treasures.”
She stopped short, turning to face him, her green eyes flashing. “You don't know the first thing about me! My dad thinks I’m a doll to dress up and parade at board meetings. This temple? This gem? It’s proof he’s wrong. When I find it, it's going to be the archeological discovery of the century.”
Mateo whistled low, his grin fading into something softer. “Damn. That’s some fire.”
Diana's jaw tightened. “You think I'm here to plunder your cultural heritage? Look around you. Your government is doing a good enough job of that already. If anyone else but me finds it, they'll sell it off to a wealthy collector.”
"But you're different?" said Mateo.
"You're starting to catch on," said Diana, giving him a flirty wink before pushing on. What nobody could understand was that she wasn't just chasing treasure, she was claiming her freedom.
Diana led the way up the path, her tank top clinging to her skin in the humid air. The temple rose ahead, a crumbling pyramid of gray stone half-swallowed by the jungle, its peak jagged against the sky. She paused at the base, scanning the arched entrance where roots twisted like veins.
“This is it,” she said, her voice low but electric. She stepped forward, leather skirt sliding up her thigh, and ducked inside without a glance back.
Mateo followed, his breath quickening as a wave of musty warm air hit him. “You sure about this, gringa?” he asked, his dark eyes darting to the shadows. “Place looks like it's been abandoned for centuries.”
She ignored him, running her fingers along the mossy walls until she found a carved snake, its eye socket empty. “Serpent’s Eye used to be here. The ancient legends say only the pure of heart could withstand its gaze,” she muttered, pulling a flashlight from her backpack. The beam lit up a corridor sloping downward, lined with cracked tiles.
Mateo opened his mouth to reply, but a sharp crack echoed behind them. Diana spun, flashlight catching three figures in the entrance.
The lead man, scarred and grizzled, leveled a gun at them. “Well, well, look what we have here. A lost tourist, perhaps? Hand over the map, blondie,” he growled.
Mateo tensed, but Diana stepped forward, a sly smile on her face.
“I spent hours digging through ancient documents in libraries across two continents. The map belongs to me.”
The Smuggler’s eyes narrowed. “My personal code of honor prohibits me from hitting a girl. It does not, though, say anything about rearranging your little boyfriend's face. Now hand over the map!”
Diana tilted her head, her blonde hair catching the flashlight’s glow as she stared down the Smuggler’s gun. “First, he’s not my boyfriend,” she said, her voice dripping with scorn. “And second...”
She lunged sideways, kicking a loose tile with her boot. A low rumble shook the corridor as a slab of stone dropped from the ceiling, crashing between them and the Smuggler’s crew. Dust billowed, and Mateo stumbled back, coughing.
“Move!” Diana barked, grabbing his arm and yanking him deeper into the temple. The Smuggler’s curses echoed behind them, muffled by the debris, but she didn’t stop.
Her flashlight bounced as they ran, revealing a fork in the passage. She veered left, one strap of her tank top slipping off her shoulder as she sprinted over uneven stone.
Mateo panted, his boots pounding behind her. “What the hell was that?” he gasped, glancing back at the fading shouts. “That was the only exit. Now we're trapped in here.”
"Old Mayan trick. Pressure plates," said Diana, not breaking stride. "They built these places to keep thieves out. But the priests always included a secret back entrance."
She skidded to a halt at a narrow gap in the wall, barely wide enough to squeeze through. She shoved the flashlight into her mouth, turned sideways, and wriggled through, giving Mateo a brief but delightfully unexpected view of her backside. Mateo followed, his broad shoulders scraping the sides as he climbed in after her.
After a minute or two, they reached the other side, spilling out into a small chamber, the air much cooler. Diana swung the flashlight around, revealing a stone altar with a snake carving.
"The god Kukulkan," said Diana, her green eyes gleaming. "Otherwise known as the Vision Serpent. We're close."
Footsteps thudded faintly beyond the wall. "And so are they," said Mateo, his eyes wide with apprehension.
Diana crept toward the altar, her flashlight beam dancing over the Kukulkan carving. The snake’s jaws gaped, revealing a recessed slot where sacrificial offerings were once placed.
She knelt, brushing dust from a ring of glyphs below it. “This is the lock,” she said, her voice steady. “The real chamber should be right behind here somewhere.” She pressed a glyph, and a deep groan rumbled through the stone. The altar slid back, exposing a dark stairwell descending into shadow.
“Woah,” said Mateo, approaching the stairwell. "I don't think anyone's ever been down here before!"
Before she could warn him, Mateo stepped onto the first stair. A click sounded, and the floor beneath him tilted, dropping him into a chute. Spikes glinted at the bottom, rusted but deadly.
“Ayudame!” he yelled, scrabbling for a hold.
Diana lunged, grabbing his wrist just as he slid past her. “Hold on!” Her boots braced against the edge, and she hauled him up, muscles straining. A moment later, he collapsed beside her, panting, as the trap reset with a grinding thud.
“Estupido!” she snapped, brushing her hair from her face. “I read about this in one of Diego de Landa's scrolls. This stairwell was a sacred passage to the underworld for the Maya. Step on the wrong tile, and you’re skewered. The glyphs mark the safe path.”
Mateo stared at her, his dark eyes wide. “You know all that from a book? And you saved my life?” His voice softened, awe creeping in. “I never thought I'd be saying this to a girl, but you are some kind of hero.”
Diana smirked, offering a hand as he got to his feet. "Save that mushy stuff for later, pretty boy. Now, follow my steps exactly because I'm not saving your worthless ass a second time.
Using her flashlight to trace the glyphs, she slowly began leading him down the stairs. Mateo's gaze lingered on her, his heart racing.
The air grew colder, the walls tighter, until they reached a low chamber with a stone door etched with serpents, their mouths open in a hideous snarl. Diana traced the carvings, her fingers finding a hidden latch. “This is it,” she said, pushing. The door grated open, revealing a narrow bridge over a black pit, its far end glowing faintly blue.
“Careful,” she warned, starting across. Mateo followed close behind her, scarcely daring to breathe.
But halfway across the bridge, a pressure plate sank under his weight. A rumble shook the chamber, and slots opened in the walls, firing stone darts.
“Down!” Diana shouted, tackling him as the first lethal projectile whizzed overhead.
They hit the bridge hard, Diana landing on top of Mateo, her legs straddling his, her face just inches from his. Darts thudded into the walls above them until the trap was spent.
For a long moment, they lay there, breathing hard. Mateo’s hands found her waist, and he pulled her closer, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was fierce, hungry, and she kissed him back, her lips parting for a fleeting second before she jerked away.
“Save it for after we’ve got the stone,” she said, her voice sharp as she rolled off him, tugging her skirt back down into position. She stood, flashlight in hand, and pointed to the blue glow. “That’s what we came for. The legendary Serpent’s Eye of Jasaw Chan Kʼawiil.”
Mateo scrambled up, his dark eyes locked on her, a dazed grin on his face. She’d saved him again, and that kiss, cut short or not, had sealed his fate.
Diana stepped off the bridge, her boots clicking on the chamber floor as she approached the blue glow. At the room’s center, on a pedestal of carved jade, sat the Serpent’s Eye, a fist-sized sapphire pulsing with an eerie light. Its facets shimmered, casting flecks of azure across her face.
She reached for it, her fingers trembling slightly, but paused. “Ba'ax ka wa'alik,” she said, the ancient words awkward in her mouth.
Mateo hovered behind her, his breath ragged. "Woah, you speak Mayan?"
Diana shot him a look, her green eyes fierce. "The stone is hardly going to speak English now, is it?"
She grasped the stone, causing it to flare, bathing her in a blinding glow. Thin beams shot from its core, scanning her face and then her chest. She stood rigid, unflinching, as the light pulsed once, then dimmed, settling into a steady hum in her grip.
“Guess my dad was wrong,” she said, chuckling softly as she turned to Mateo.
His jaw dropped, awe etching his features. “You’re unreal,” he breathed, stepping closer, but a shout cut him off.
The Smuggler’s voice boomed from the other side of the bridge. “Thank you, blondie. I've been searching this temple for years. At last, the stone will be mine!”
Diana spun, tucking the sapphire into her backpack as more figures emerged, guns drawn.
“The only way out is through,” she muttered, scanning the chamber until she spotted a vine-choked hole in the ceiling, a few beams of daylight filtering through.
“There?" said Mateo, his eyes wide. "We'll never make it in time.”
She scowled as she grabbed Mateo’s hand, pulling him to the edge of the jade pedestal. Using it as a boost, she leapt, caught a vine, and started climbing, the sapphire’s weight tugging at her back.
With a gulp, Mateo followed as shots rang out across the chamber.
Diana hauled herself through the vine-choked hole, breaking into the bright afternoon sunlight as hot jungle air hit her lungs. She yanked Mateo up behind her, his hands shaking as he gripped her arm.
Gunshots cracked below, the Smuggler and his men scrambling out of the temple’s depths. “Bike’s that way!” she shouted, sprinting toward the clearing where they’d left it.
They reached the motorcycle, thick foliage snapping underfoot. “Get on!” Diana ordered, swinging her leg over the seat. Mateo hesitated for a moment, but she revved the engine, her green eyes blazing. “Now, pretty boy!”
He climbed behind her, arms wrapping tight around her waist as she gunned it, tires spitting dirt. Bullets whizzed past, one grazing the handlebar, but she didn’t flinch.
The Smuggler burst from the hole, roaring orders as his men fired wildly. Diana swerved through the trees, Mateo clinging for dear life, his face pressed against her back. “You’re crazy!” he yelled over the engine’s howl. She laughed, weaving past a fallen log, the jungle blurring around them.
A few minutes later, they hit the main road, a dusty stretch cutting through the green, and Diana straightened the bike. With a grin, she lifted both hands off the bars, throwing them up in triumph. “Woah, I can’t believe it! I did it!” she shouted, her voice wild with glee.
“Ay, dios mio!” Mateo yelped, his grip tightening, visions of them flying into the ditch flashing through his mind.
“Relax, pretty boy,” she said, dropping her hands back onto the bars with a mischievous grin. The bike roared steady, carrying them toward the cantina where they’d met, the Smuggler’s shouts fading to nothing.
***
The room above the cantina smelled of sweat and tequila, its wooden floor creaking under Diana’s bare feet as she pulled her tank top on. Late afternoon sun slanted through a cracked window, painting her blonde hair gold.
She zipped her backpack, the Serpent’s Eye nestled inside, and glanced at Mateo. He sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, his dark hair mussed, watching her with a dazed grin that hadn’t faded since they’d stumbled upstairs.
“I think this is the happiest day of my life,” he said, his voice low and warm.
Diana smiled, zipping up her skirt. "Yeah, not too shabby." She sat on a rickety chair to lace up her boots. "I’m meeting Pedro Pascuales at the National Museum tomorrow to hand over the stone. It's the only way to return this priceless cultural artefact to the people.”
Mateo’s grin widened, excitement lighting his face. “You have done our country a great service."
She paused, her fingers still on the laces, and let out a bitter laugh. “Pedro’s the only guy I can trust with this. Ironic, right? I know he's trustworthy because he’s never taken a dime from my dad."
"So what’s our next move after that? Another temple? Some lost gold? Maybe discover a lost city?” said Mateo, climbing out of bed, his toned abs rippling in the sun.
“You’re sweet,” she said, softer now, stepping toward him. She rested a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat jump. “But I work better solo. Sorry, mi amor.” She dropped her hand and turned, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.
Mateo sank back onto the bed, his shoulders slumping. “You’re breaking my heart, gringa,” he said, but his voice still carried that lovestruck lilt. He watched helplessly as she grabbed his motorcycle keys from the table. “Hey!”
“Thanks you're a doll,” she called over her shoulder, already at the door. “I’ll leave it somewhere safe. Promise.”
She flashed him a wink, her silhouette framed by the stairwell’s dim light, then vanished down the steps.
A minute later, the roar of the motorcycle split the quiet. Mateo rushed to the window, peering out as Diana gunned it down the dirt road, her hair whipping in the wind. The sun dipped low, gilding her in amber as she rode off, a lone figure chasing the horizon. He pressed a hand to the glass, sad but smitten, knowing he’d never forget her.