“We’ve been lucky so far,” she said, thinking of the gold they had found and that they’d survived several close calls. “I hope our luck holds out.”
“So do I.” Gage reached over and took her hand, held it snugly in his bigger one.
The plane began to circle as it descended. She heard the clank of the landing gear locking into place; then the nose tipped downward to the runway as the plane angled toward the ground.
Abby looked up at Gage, whose face was set in hard, grim lines. Every emotion she felt for him rushed into her heart. If they died, she would never see him again. Or maybe just Gage would die, or she would. Anything could happen.
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you,” she said. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true, and I wanted you to know . . . in case . . . in case something happens.”
“Dammit, Abby, nothing is going to—” The wheels slammed down on the tarmac, jarring the entire cabin. The plane bounced up, swooped down and hit again, shimmied, and kept rolling. The ground rushed past, turned into a blur of colors flying by outside the windows. The tower rushed past, but the plane kept going.
Through the porthole, she saw fire engines lined up near the end of the runway, their red lights flashing. Her stomach tightened as the brakes clamped down. She smelled burning rubber. The wheels locked, then released, locked and released. The plane slowed, but not enough. They were rapidly reaching the end of the runway, nothing but dirt and sagebrush beyond.
The brakes gripped and released, gripped and released. The plane shuddered and continued to slow.
“Put your heads down, everyone!” Gage called out as they hit the end of the tarmac and bounced across the field, rolled and bounced, rolled and bounced, finally slowed and slid to a stop.
Abby’s heart thundered, and her mouth felt bone dry. Foxx popped his belt, hurried over to the emergency escape hatch, pulled a lever, and a rubber slide deployed and filled with a rush of air.
Fire engines raced toward them.
“Let’s go!” Gage commanded, rounding up the others and herding them toward the slide. “Zuma, you first, then Carlos.”
The buxom woman sat down and shoved off, slid to the bottom and stood up, ready to catch Carlos. The boy grinned up at Abby as he slid down the chute, raising his arms over his head on his way to the ground.
“You’re next,” Gage said, manhandling Abby into position as if he didn’t trust her to actually leave. Mateo followed. Skye, Trace, then Edge, Gage, and Foxx, then the captain and co-captain.
When they were all safely off the plane, Abby breathed a sigh of relief.
Gage strode up to her and pulled her into his arms. “Dammit, Abby, I love you too.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I wish things could be different.” And then he kissed her, long and deep. When the kiss finally ended, he turned and walked away.
It was the sweetest, saddest moment of her life.
CHAPTER FORTY
THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE HECTIC.ABBY SPOKE TOTAMMY, MADEarrangements to take over her best friend’s lease, and moved out of Gage’s apartment. She hadn’t seen much of him since their return to Denver. Several meetings with bankers and lawyers had forced them together, but aside from that, Gage was determined to keep his distance.
Abby felt the same. Every time she saw him, the pain of losing him surfaced all over again.
The day of King’s funeral was the worst. What Abby had envisioned as a small group of friends in the Ivy Chapel at the Fairmount Cemetery turned into a media circus. King Farrell had proven all of them wrong. He was hailed as a world-class explorer, the man who’d finally found the long-lost Devil’s Gold.
Everyone who had ever crossed King’s path showed up for the memorial service. When she hadn’t heard from Gage, Abby accepted Clay Reynolds’s offer to escort her. Clay made no secret of his interest in her, taking her to lunch on several occasions, then supper at the elegant Ocean Prime Restaurant.
Clay had been entertaining and solicitous, and having him with her at the funeral seemed better than facing the ordeal alone.
Clay took her arm and guided her down the steps as they left the chapel, both dressed in black, the crowd following them across the grass to the graveside, where the minister gave another, shorter account of the long and spectacular life King had lived.
Mateo was there, Edge, Skye Delaney, and Trace Elliott. Skye had picked up Zuma and Carlos and brought them with her. All of them had come forward to express their sympathy and give her a badly needed hug. Afterward, Zuma had remained a few minutes longer to say a personal good-bye to King.
Finally, everyone but Abby and Clay were gone. Standing in front of the grave, she clutched the map King had left her all those weeks ago, the worn piece of parchment showing the trail through the Superstition Mountains that had begun her amazing adventure.
Abby kissed the map, leaned over, and tucked it under the blanket of white roses that draped her grandfather’s coffin.
“Thank you for giving me the best time of my life,” she said.With the best man I’ve ever known, she thought, and wiped tears from her cheeks.
“You ready?” Clay asked. He looked handsome today, his blond hair lightly tousled by the breeze, his blue eyes filled with concern.
Abby nodded. She took the arm he offered and started walking. For a moment, she thought the man in the black suit, white shirt, and gleaming gold French cuffs standing at the back of the canopy was an illusion.
