The boy puffed out his narrow chest. “Whatever you need—you will tell Carlos and he will get it for you.”
Abby’s smile widened. “That sounds great.” She looked up at Gage. “You know, I’m getting hungry. I bet Carlos knows a good place for us to eat.”
The boy’s black eyes lit up. “Sí, Señora Abby, I know a very good place.”
Abby reached down and took hold of his small brown hand, felt it curl trustingly around her own, and her heart slowly melted. He was just a boy, and he was completely alone. She knew what that felt like, and it was far worse for a child. “Anyone else want to come?”
Gage shot her a look. “You aren’t going anywhere by yourself, sweetheart. So yes, I’m coming along.”
The endearment had her gaze shooting to his, though it was simply part of the game they were playing. After what had happened in Mexico City, Gage was determined to keep her safe.
She looked down at the boy. “All right, Carlos, let’s go.”
They headed along the dirt street to the Cantina Imperial, in one of the flat-roofed square buildings on the opposite side of the road, this one painted bright blue. Gage pushed open the swinging door and held it so she, Carlos, and Mateo could enter. Edge was out doing whatever he did to ensure their security and wouldn’t be back before nightfall.
The dimly lit interior of the cantina was a cool respite from the outside heat, but the tile-floored room wasn’t empty. Clusters of men sat at rough wooden tables off to one side, disreputable-looking with their shaggy hair, mustaches, dirty clothes, and rubber-soled leather sandals.
They sat up straighter as Abby and their small group walked past, and she could feel their eyes on her. Her pulse quickened. She was suddenly glad Gage was there and that he was armed.
They ordered the dishes Carlos suggested, and the meal was brought out: poc chuc, slices of pork marinated in sour orange and achiote sauce, and sopes, tortillas stuffed with beans, topped with shredded chicken and lettuce.
The boy wolfed down the food as if he were starving, which his appearance said he was. At least he would have decent meals for the next two weeks.
Unless they were able to find and retrieve the gold before then.
Tonight they were going to the spot pinpointed on King’s map, the ruins of the original Peralta plantation, about fifteen miles from the town. They would scout the area and plot their course. If everything looked as it should, they would go back tomorrow and search for the treasure in the light of day.
The Devil’s Gold was in reach. Abby could feel it.
Tonight, she thought, their search would truly begin.
* * *
Gage could sense danger a mile away. In this case, it was lurking in the corners of the Cantina Imperial, nothing more than a painted stucco structure with an open tin ceiling, shutters that closed over windows without glass, and a red tile floor.
He didn’t miss the weapons some of the men openly carried, semiautomatic pistols, stout wooden bats, and knives, the blades occasionally flashing in a ray of sunlight that managed to force its way inside. Cartel members, he figured, though he had no idea which group.
Los Zetas, or one of the others—either way, it wasn’t good news.
And the way the men were looking at Abby made the hackles rise on the back of his neck. She was a beautiful woman. He caught a few lewd remarks in Spanish, and his jaw tightened, his protective instincts kicking in. Gage forced himself to ignore them.
There were at least twelve men in the bar, possibly more in the back room. If a fight broke out, the odds weren’t good. An incident could be deadly.
The boy didn’t seem to notice, engrossed in his meal as he was. Next to him, Mateo had schooled his features into a mask that showed no concern, though Gage knew he wasn’t happy to see the men in town. Mateo cast him an occasional warning glance, aware of his protective feelings for Abby, reminding him of the high stakes they were playing for.
They finished the meal, and Gage paid the bill. He set a hand possessively at Abby’s waist as they walked out of the cantina, letting the men know exactly whom she belonged to.
There was lust in the men’s dark eyes. Watching the unconsciously sexy way she walked toward the door, Gage found his own blood pounding. He remembered making love to her last night, thought how good they were together, and wanted her all over again. Abby was his. At least until this was over.
Her gaze ran over him as they walked back to the hotel, and he could feel the heat that sparked between them. A sagging bed in a primitive hotel room with paper-thin walls was the last place he wanted to take her.
And yet when Mateo and the boy headed to their respective quarters for a brief nap in the brutal afternoon heat, Gage closed the door to their room, turned her into his arms, and kissed her. He cupped her face and kissed the corners of her mouth, then sank into her soft lips again.
“I want you,” he said on another slow kiss. “I know it’s not the time or place, but my body doesn’t seem to care.” He took her hand and moved it down to cover his heavy erection.
Abby’s fingers closed around him. “I want you, too. I always seem to want you.”
Gage groaned.
“It’s a bad idea,” he said, kissing the side of her neck. “These walls are like paper.”
Abby’s arms slid around his neck. “Edge’s room is next door, and he’s not in.”
Gage nipped her earlobe. “You think you can be quiet?”
The corners of her mouth tipped up. “Depends on what you do to me.”
He chuckled. “I’m going to make you come. That much I can promise.” Gage kissed her again, forcing himself to be gentle, coaxing her lips apart, then deepening the kiss and taking what he wanted. Abby’s response was immediate, her mouth softening under his, her nipples tightening as her breasts flattened against him.
Even with the ceiling fan stirring up a breeze, it was hot in the room. Gage stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it away, thought of the men in the cantina, and left on his cargo pants in case there was trouble.
Abby peeled her T-shirt off over her head, unfastened her bra and tossed it away.
“Take off the rest,” Gage commanded. She liked it when he took control, and after the way the men in the cantina had looked at her, he needed to mark her, brand her as his, bind her to him in some way.
“Unbraid your hair.”
Standing naked in front of him, she pulled off the band holding her long golden-red braid and combed her fingers through it, separating the fiery strands, spreading them around her shoulders. His groin tightened painfully, urging him to take her.
Gage ignored the demands of his body, refusing to be hurried. Not today.
“Come here,” he said softly, waiting patiently as she approached, her eyes never leaving his face. The moments dragged out, making him harder still.
“I’ve never told you how beautiful you are,” he said, trailing a finger down her cheek. “I’ve never said that I think about being inside you even when you’re not around.”
She reached out and flattened her palms on his chest. “I think about you, too, Gage. I remember the way you touch me, and I want more.”
His heartbeat quickened. He reached out and cupped a pale, ripe breast, ran his thumb back and forth across her nipple. Abby trembled as he bent his head and took the fullness into his mouth. She combed her fingers through his hair, silently begging for more.