Abby’s head emerged, then the rest of her body. As they pulled her onto solid ground, Gage dropped the rope and ran toward her. “Are you hurt? How do you feel? Is anything broken?”
“I’m okay. I hit the ground pretty hard, but nothing’s broken.”
Gage pulled her into his arms. “You’re okay,” he repeated. “You’re all right.”
Abby hugged him. “I’m okay, I promise.” She eased back and grinned. “I found the way in!” She punched a fist into the air. “Yes!” Abby was grinning while his insides were still quaking.
“All we have to do is clear the floor out of the way,” she said with a triumphant smile.
Gage brushed the dirt off her forehead and cheeks. “You’re insane, you know that?” He captured her face between his hands, bent, and very thoroughly kissed her.
Abby kissed him back, making a little sound of pleasure in her throat. She broke away and flashed another grin. “It’s down there, and now we have a way to go in and get it.”
Gage drew in a steadying breath. “All right, fine.” His gaze scanned the three people around him: Mateo, Edge, and Carlos. “The lady says we’re going to find what we’re looking for down in that hole. Let’s take a break, hydrate, and get to work.”
Everybody smiled and nodded. They were ready for this and so was he. He just hoped like hell there wouldn’t be any more accidents.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A HOT SUN SPILLED THROUGH THE WINDOWS. OVERHEAD, THE CEILING fan whipped the air. Arturo leaned back in the chair behind his ornately carved desk as the door opened and Paulo led Zuma into the room.
His gaze swept over the woman’s familiar face. Even with the fine silver strands in her heavy black hair and the few extra pounds she carried, Zuma Delgado was a beautiful woman.
Years ago, for a time, they had been together, but Arturo’s tastes had always run to younger women. A pretty serving maid had caught his eye, and Zuma had found them together. Their parting had been amiable. She had always known he would stray.
Zuma had taken a job as a server in the Cantina el Gato Rojo, which included rooms upstairs, where she still lived. It was there, in the Red Cat Cantina, she had met King Farrell, older, but still a handsome man, and apparently quite virile.
He stayed with Zuma whenever he came to the Yucatán, and Farrell had gone to her when he had fallen ill.
“You look exhausted,” Arturo said, rising. “Why don’t you sit down?”
Zuma walked toward him, head held high, loathing clear in a beautiful face now lined with age. Her bright, full skirts swirled around her ankles as she took the seat across from him, adjusting the white peasant blouse that covered her voluptuous breasts.
Arturo sat back down. “Tell me again what the old man said when he came to you,” he demanded.
“He was delirious, barely clinging to life. There is no way to know if what he said is true.”
“Tell me!” he demanded.
“He said he had found it—the Devil’s Gold. He said he had come back to retrieve it. Then he fell ill and came to me for help.”
“Anything else?”
“He mentioned his granddaughter. He said she would be coming for the gold. After that, his ramblings made no sense.”
“But you believe what he told you is true.”
“He was feverish, but still lucid at the time. He grew worse after suffering your ill treatment.”
True, he silently admitted. Deprivation, even torture had not penetrated the mind of the man he’d imprisoned in the old prison cells beneath the Velásquez family’s deteriorating hacienda.
Arturo thought of the day Zuma had come to him. A friend had fallen deathly ill, she’d said. She needed a doctor, but had no money.
The doctor Arturo had so generously provided had immediately reported the old man’s ramblings, snaring Arturo’s interest. A little research confirmed that King Farrell was an explorer, a famous treasure hunter. Could his delirious claims of finding millions in long-buried gold actually be true?
Whispers of treasure had been circulating in the Yucatán for more than a century. If Farrell had discovered the location of the gold, Arturo was determined to claim it.
He turned to Paulo, who stood alertly next to the door. “Did you deliver the letter?”
“Sí. Neither Logan nor the girl were at the hotel at the time. Rico left it at the front desk, as you instructed.”
It had taken weeks to track down the granddaughter Farrell had mentioned in one of his rants. Abigail, he’d said, would be coming for the gold.
In a last desperate gamble, Arturo had hired an investigator to find her, succeeding just days before she left Denver for Mexico with a man named Gage Logan. She was after the gold, Arturo was sure, on her way to somewhere in the Yucatán, where the old man had come to recover his treasure.
As head of the Velásquez family—which included Ramón, his powerful younger brother—Arturo had put out the word that he was searching for her. Just a day after her arrival, news came that she was staying with Logan at the Hacienda San José.
Arturo glanced at the gilded clock above the mantel over the fireplace. The afternoon was slipping away, and still no word. The letter he had sent was sure to get a response from the girl.
“Call the hotel,” he said. “Find out if the message has been picked up.” Logan and Abigail were sharing a room in the luxurious hotel. Perhaps Logan was merely taking a few days to sample the lady’s charms before venturing out in the heat of the Yucatán to retrieve the gold.
Paulo pulled out his cell phone and made the call. He inquired, then ended the call. “They have not yet returned to their room.”
Arturo’s eyes narrowed. “But they are still there.”
Paulo swallowed nervously. “Rico was watching the hotel as you wished, but Logan and the girl managed to slip off without being seen. They still have a room, but they have not yet returned.”
Arturo could feel the fury burning into his face. “You are telling me you don’t know where they are?”
“They haven’t checked out. Rico thought they would be back by now.”
Arturo shot up from his chair. “This is exactly what I was afraid of!”
Paulo’s hand shot out as if to protect himself. Arturo noticed with satisfaction that it trembled.
“The drive is little more than an hour,” Paulo said. “I will go to the hotel myself. I will find out where they’ve gone, and I will personally deliver the letter.”
Arturo sat back down, his mind running over the possibilities. There was no way to know for sure that the girl knew where to find the treasure. At least not until he talked to her. His lips thinned. If she knew, sooner or later she would tell him.
“You have twenty-four hours,” he said. “Not a minute more. If you have not found them, you and Rico will take up residence in one of the cells beneath the house.” He allowed his lips to curve in a smile that showed his teeth. “And your fate will be far worse than that of the old man.”
Paulo gave a single brief nod and strode for the door. It closed soundlessly behind him.
Zuma rose from her chair. “If he finds them, can you not just follow them to the gold?”