Gage watched as Zuma approached and knelt on the ground beside them. She checked King’s pulse, leaned over his face to see if he was still breathing. She looked at Gage and shook her head.
Zuma turned to Abby. “Go to your man,” she said. “He will look after you now. Your grandfather is gone.”
“No.” Abby’s eyes filled. She shook her head. “Not yet.” She bent over King, still holding his hand, trying to feel his breath on her face. “You can’t go yet. Do you hear me? We just found the gold.” She started crying, a rush of tears that broke Gage’s heart.
He went to her, eased her to her feet, and turned her into his arms. “You made him happy, honey. You gave him the most precious gift he’s ever received. You gave him his dream.”
Abby started crying, and Gage pressed her face into his shoulder. “We’ll take care of him. We’ll take him home.”
Her tears turned to sobs, and Gage just held her. He ached for her, ached for her terrible loss. He wanted to absorb her pain, protect her from the heartache, make everything right for her again.
Was that love?
Gage prayed it wasn’t.
But as he led her away, his chest tight and his heart beating dully, he was very much afraid it was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
IT TOOK TWO TRIPS TOMÉRIDA TO TRANSPORT PEOPLE, EQUIPMENT,and 6,052 solid gold bars, each weighing approximately 32 troy ounces. Two pounds. Market value $59,649 dollars per bar.
A little over $363,000,000 in total, according to Abby’s calculations.
“How can there be so many?” Abby asked. “It would have taken hundreds of trips from the mine.”
“Unless there was more than one mine,” Gage said.
“That’s right! There were rumors about a Peralta mine in the Sierra Nevada mountains of California.”
“Could be, I guess. We’ll probably never know.”
Not that it really mattered. Wherever the gold had come from, they were rich. Sixty percent would go to the Mexican government, of course, but forty percent would be theirs.
They were depositing the government’s portion into a private vault in Mérida, 3,632 bars worth $217,860,000. Two thousand, four hundred and twenty bars were going home with them, $145,000,000 in gold.
Less themordidathey would be sending Victor Alamán, $4,356,000 in cash, the bribe they’d promised to pay.
Abby thought of her grandfather with a bittersweet pang. King had been right about the gold from the start.
But then she had never really doubted him.
She couldn’t wait to get back to the States with the news—King Farrell had found the Devil’s Gold!
King’s good name would be restored, and all of them would be rich. It was a huge achievement, a once-in-a-lifetime thrill.
Her buoyant mood slowly faded. Once she was back in Denver, her time with Gage would be over.
Her throat ached. She could no longer stay in Gage’s apartment. By his silence, he had made his feelings clear. Abby loved Gage, the forever kind of love that only came once in a lifetime. She would never truly get over him, but she didn’t want a man who didn’t—couldn’t—love her in return.
“You ready?” Gage asked, clean-shaven again, so handsome in his yellow knit pullover and tan slacks her heart hurt just to look at him. His beautiful blue eyes touched her face, and she thought he seemed oddly troubled.
He still had a lot to worry about. They were shipping millions of dollars in gold. Until it was safely stored in Denver, neither of them could relax.
“I’m all packed,” she said, a fake smile on her lips. They were staying in a suite at the Fiesta Americana in Mérida, about a twenty-minute drive to the airport.
They had sent their gear ahead, all but a carry-on each. She flicked a last painful glance at the big king-sized bed. They had slept together last night, made frantic, almost desperate love, probably for the last time.
Gage seemed to know it, accept it. She ached to think of it, but so did she.
