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 TOGAGE ON A STEEP SANDSTONE HILL IN THEdesert 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.
The collector, a man named Thomas Dillard who was financing the trip, wanted credit for making such a remarkable discovery—and of course, the celebrity associated with donating such an import piece of history to the Antiquities Authority in Israel.
The problem was, the ancient Jewish scrolls were somewhere across the border in Jordan.
An even bigger problem was the group of terrorists that were rumored to be lurking in one of the sandstone caves in the area.
Abby glanced over at Gage. With any luck, the bad guys would stay in whatever dark hole they occupied.
The good news was, Mateo had arrived in Sweimeh several weeks ago and had been making arrangements ever since. They were ready for whatever lay ahead.
Abby grinned. Treasure hunting was never dull.
In the last four months, a lot had happened. She and Gage were married now, living in Gage’s apartment when they were in Denver. Zuma and Carlos were settled in a nice quiet neighborhood in the suburbs, Carlos at the top of his class in the private school where Gage had enrolled him.
Jack Foxx was away, searching for a sunken ship off the coast of Florida.
In other news, Clay Reynolds was sitting in a cell in the Buena Vista Correctional Facility, a prison two hours outside of Denver. Abby hoped his three-year sentence would be enough to give him a badly needed change of attitude.
In Mexico, neither of the Velásquez brothers faced criminal charges, but the Mexican authorities wanted them badly, particularly Ramón, for his cartel activities.
Victor Alamán’s fiasco at the airport had landed him in a Mexico City jail.
Abby’s gaze returned to Gage. A light wind ruffled his thick brown hair, and a faint smile touched his lips. He was thinking, working out whatever problems they might face in their search for the scrolls.
Abby was thinking about what she and Gage had done in bed last night. Her husband was still the most virile, sexiest man she had ever known. And though they were now in the middle of the desert instead of a luxury hotel room, she wasn’t worried. Gage could be very creative.
He reached down, took hold of her hand, and brought it to his lips. Love for him welled in her heart.
“See those wind caves over there?” He pointed and her gaze followed his to a row of openings in the wall of sandstone across the ravine.
“Those aren’t mentioned in Dillard’s notes.”
“No, they aren’t, and that’s what makes them interesting.”
“Shall we take a look?”
“Let’s drive the Jeep around and come up from the back.”
“Might be better to just go in the front.”
