Gage must have realized the implications of her decision, that if she’d gone to Clay’s house, Gage wouldn’t have shown up at the door and Clay could have raped her.
The anger in his face changed to concern, and he pulled her into his arms. “Jesus, baby.”
Abby clung to him. It felt so good to be back in his arms. How could she have ever believed she could be free of him? She loved him more than ever.
Gage let her go, and both of them looked down at Clay. Blood dripped from his nose and ran from the corner of his mouth. One of his eyes was turning black and was swollen nearly shut.
Abby ignored him. “Clay said something about Mexico City. I think he may have hired the men who tried to kidnap me in the hotel.”
“What?” Gage’s fury returned. He walked over and hauled Clay up, dragged him across the room, and shoved him down on the sofa. “Did you hire those men who went after Abby in Mexico City?”
When Clay didn’t answer, Gage drew back his fist. “It would be my pleasure to beat the living fuck out of you. Did you hire those two men?”
Clay nodded glumly.
“You told Abby that King mentioned Mexico. How did you know we were in Mexico City?”
“I figured you’d have to start by dealing with the government. You’d have to talk to people in the Anthropological Institute. I’ve worked with them for years. They knew you were staying at the Gran Hotel.”
Gage flicked an assessing glance at Abby, then looked back at Clay. “What about the three guys in Denver who tried to abduct her?”
Clay wiped blood off his mouth. “I just wanted the map.”
“You sonofabitch. You’re going to jail—you know that, right?”
“You’ve got the gold. Isn’t that enough?”
“Beating you senseless wouldn’t be enough. Call the cops, Abby.”
She walked over to Clay. “What you tried to do to me tonight . . . I don’t understand what you thought you could accomplish.”
His bloody lip curled. “You’re worth at least twenty million bucks, sweetheart. I figured there was a chance you’d see things my way once I had you in bed.”
Gage hauled him up and hit him again.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
TWO POLICE OFFICERS SHOWED UP AT THE DOOR. THEY TOOK ONE look at Abby’s battered face, clamped a pair of handcuffs around Clay Reynolds’s wrists, and hauled him away.
Since there was no proof he was behind the kidnapping attempt in Denver or the attack at the hotel in Mexico City, Gage figured the guy would cut some kind of a deal to lessen the assault charges and get off with a minimum sentence.
If he was smart, he wouldn’t show his face in Denver again. As long as he stayed away from Abby, Gage didn’t care.
Abby closed the door behind the officer who had remained to take their statements, walked over, and dropped down on the sofa. Gage sat down beside her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and just hold her, make sure she was okay. He wanted to kiss her, make love to her, but he no longer had that right.
“You okay?” he finally asked.
Big golden eyes gazed up at him, seemed to look straight into his heart. “I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t shown up when you did.” She frowned as if a thought had just occurred. “Why did you show up? Why’d you come over?”
“There were some things I needed to say.” He reached out and ran a finger gently over the bruise on her cheek, and his jaw tightened. He wanted to punch Clay Reynolds all over again. “I got sidetracked when I saw that bastard on top of you.”
Abby gingerly touched her face. “Like I said, bad things happen every day.”
“So I guess you were right.”
“I was?”
“Yeah. I think maybe you were right about a lot of things.”
Some of the color returned to her cheeks. “Which . . . umm . . . things do you mean?”
“After you left, I had plenty of time to think about everything you said. I thought of what happened in Mexico. All the things that could have gone wrong, all the things that did. I reminded myself you could have been killed. Nothing I told myself made any difference.”
Abby just looked at him, but there was something different in her eyes. It was hope, he realized. The same feeling swelled in his chest.
He reached down and took hold of her hand. “I’m crazy in love with you, Abby. I tried to convince myself it wasn’t true. Then I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter. Nothing worked.”
Her eyes welled. “Gage . . .”
He brought her hand up and kissed the back. “When I get home from a trip, I’m always ready to head off again on some new quest, but not this time. I can’t stand the thought of going without you. No matter where I went, I’d always be wishing you were there to share the adventure with me.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “You . . . you want me to go with you? You want us to be partners again?”
Gage shook his head. The hope in Abby’s eyes dimmed, and she glanced away. Gage caught her chin and turned her to face him. “I want us to be more than partners. I want us to be a couple. A married couple. The Logans. We’ll do things that will make them remember our names. Will you marry me, baby?”
She swallowed. “What . . . what if something bad happened to me, Gage? It could, you know.”
“I know it’s a risk. But I figure being with you is worth the risk.”
She gave him a teary smile. “That’s what I think too. Even if something bad happened to you, I’d never regret one second of our time together.”
Gage slid his fingers into her fiery hair, tipped her head back, and took her mouth in a gentle kiss. He’d meant to be brief, just sealing the pact he hoped to make between them, but Abby’s lips softened under his and parted to invite him in. His heart filled an instant before lust slammed into him. The kiss deepened, turned hot and fierce.
It was all he could do to pull away.
“All right, then,” he said gruffly. “From now on, whatever we do, we do it together, husband and wife.”
Abby grinned. “Partners.”
“Right.” He smiled. “Except my word is final.”
“Sure,” she said, with the sparkle in her eyes that told him no way was that happening. “Your word is final. That goes without saying.”
Gage laughed, loud and long.
Abby grinned. “So let’s get married,” she said, sliding her arms around his neck.
And so they did.
EPILOGUE
Four months later
* * *
ABBY STOOD NEXT TO GAGE ON A STEEP SANDSTONE HILL IN THE desert above a dry wash sixty-five kilometers from Sweimeh, Jordan. Maggie had done her usual competent job of arranging their first few nights in a luxurious suite at the Ishtar Hotel, a resort overlooking the beautiful turquoise waters of the Dead Sea.
Today they went to work.
Gage had been approached by a private collector who had come across reliable information that a cave in the hills above the sea held a cache of ancient leather scrolls dating back two thousand years.
Like the hoard of Dead Sea Scrolls found in 1947, these would be an amazing discovery. It was rumored they included the Book of Esther, missing from the original find, the story of the Jewish Queen of Persia.