“King, please. You’ll make yourself worse.”
“I need to . . . tell you. I need you to know . . . how proud I am of you.”
Her eyes burned. She brought his thin hand to her lips and kissed the bony knuckles, her throat aching, along with her heart.
“You and Logan . . . he’s a good . . . man. I hoped you would choose him to be the one.”
Gage straightened, his eyes watchful.
“We’re . . . umm . . . very good friends.”
King’s mouth edged up at the corners. “More than . . . friends. I . . . see the way he . . . looks at you . . . the way you look at him.”
“Please . . . you need to rest.”
His thin hand squeezed hers. “You must go . . . with them tomorrow, Abby. Go with them . . . to find the treasure. Give it to Velásquez . . . if you must. The money . . . doesn’t matter. It never does.” His gaze shifted across the room to Gage. “Ask . . . him.” He gave her hand a final squeeze as his eyes slowly closed. Seconds later, he was asleep.
Zuma rose from her chair. “I will tend him, as I have done from the start. I will come for you if he worsens.”
Abby looked at King. His breathing was shallow, his chest barely moving up and down. “I’ll stay,” she said.
“You will need your rest if you are to find the treasure.” Zuma’s intense black eyes pinned her. “This you must do for King.”
Gage came forward. “It’s almost morning. We’ll get a few hours’ sleep, then head for the hacienda. It’s what your grandfather wants.”
“Staying will not keep him from dying,” Zuma added. “Give him his dream, his greatest desire.”
Abby swallowed past the tears in her throat. She nodded. She knew the way King thought, what he would want her to do. He wanted her to find the treasure, to prove he was the man people had once believed.
Gage reached out and took her arm, led her back to the room they shared. He took off his clothes and helped her take off hers. When they climbed into bed, he didn’t make love to her, just kissed her forehead and settled her against his side, her head on his shoulder.
“I’ll wake you when it’s time,” he said.
Abby nodded. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but in minutes, exhaustion claimed her.
She dreamed of King and the Devil’s Gold.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
GAGE BROUGHT ABBY PADZULES FOR BREAKFAST—TORTILLAS FILLED with hard-boiled eggs and a tomato and pumpkin-seed sauce.
She just shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
“You need to eat, honey. We have no idea what we’re going to be facing out there today. If you won’t do it for you, do it for King.”
Abby reluctantly accepted the tortilla and managed to get the food down. She dressed in her work clothes, and Gage followed her to her grandfather’s room, then stood watch outside the door. Velásquez’s man Hector stood a few feet away, his hand on the pistol strapped to his waist.
The wind was blowing, rattling the trees and driving dirt and leaves across the ground. Thick black clouds darkened the sky overhead, and the smell of rain hung in the air. A big tropical storm was coming, and it wasn’t far away.
Gage spotted the guy with the ugly scar, Santos, lounging against the wall, a band of bullets draped across his chest, and carrying an assault rifle. Gage didn’t see Edge, Trace, or Skye, but he knew they were out there.
No one seemed aware of his security team. Whoever had brought the letter must have dropped it off and just left. They’d caught a break there.
As Gage waited for Abby, he felt a rush of sympathy for what she was facing with her grandfather. He knew how it felt to lose someone you cared about. He’d lost both his parents a year apart when he’d been in his teens, and then Cassandra had died. Gage knew how badly it would hurt if Abby lost King.
Another door down the corridor opened, and Mateo walked out. Carlos was staying behind with Zuma and King. The boy had been living on his own for years, and Zuma would look out for him. He’d heard Paulo saying that Hector would be staying behind to guard them.
“How is the old man?” Mateo asked as he walked up. Gage had told Velásquez’s men that Mateo was essential to the search. They had found his knife and taken it, but allowed him to accompany them this morning.
“Not good. I don’t think he has much time. He wants Abby to find the treasure, so that’s what we’re going to do.”
Mateo glanced around. By Gage’s count, ten men plus Hector, who would stay behind, were being paid to ensure Velásquez wound up with the gold.
All of it, Gage was sure. No way did the man intend to settle for half.
“I talked to Victor Alamán last night,” Gage said, having called on the sat phone Velásquez’s men didn’t know he had. “I told him what was going on down here and that if he wanted his share of the gold, he had better figure something out and fast.”
“So . . . what? He is sending in the Mexican army?”
“Something like that. Mexico gets the lion’s share of the treasure. They’ve got a big stake in this, but it takes time to set things up, and Alamán won’t step in unless we find the gold.”
“So we are on our own.”
“At least for now,” Gage said.
Abby came out of the room, wiping tears, and they headed for the Hummer. Gage glanced around and spotted one of the men he had seen in the cantina the day they had arrived; he was thick-necked, with short muscular arms and stout thighs. More of them prowled the area around the hotel. Paulo’s reinforcements. Local cartel soldiers.
Mateo got into one of the Hummers, accompanied by Velásquez’s men, while Gage drove Abby in the other, with Santos in the back seat.
“Vamos!” The scar lifted threateningly, and Santos’s hand rested on the butt of his automatic rifle.
Gage cranked the engine and pulled out onto the road, followed by Mateo in the other SUV. The cartel crew piled into the cab and truck bed of a dirty old white Toyota pickup, and all of them trailed off down the road.
Nobody talked along the way, not until they pulled onto the grounds of the old hacienda and parked in back. Gage figured Edge and his crew were either already there or had followed and would soon be in place.
A heavy mist started to fall, and the wind picked up. They put on rain slickers and unloaded the gear, including headlamps for working in the underground chambers, ignoring Velásquez’s men and the gun-toting locals who relaxed under cover in the trees.
All but Santos, who planned to follow them into the tunnels under the house. Gage went down first, hand-over-hand along a thick rope. He tensed as he watched Abby descend behind him, but she made quick work of it and jumped the last few feet to the ground. Mateo joined them, and Santos followed.
The three of them went to work with picks and shovels, while Santos propped his shoulders against a crumbling wall, fingering his assault rifle in warning.
It didn’t take long to break through into another chamber. Gage adjusted his headlamp and took a look inside, but the room was as empty as the last two.
“Over here!” Abby called out excitedly. “I think I’ve found the main corridor!”
Gage shined the beam of his headlamp through the opening, illuminating the darkness beyond. “You’re right. Same floor plan as Velásquez’s hacienda. All the rooms down here open off a central hallway.”