Three weeks later
ABBY WALKED BENEATH THE DARK GREEN CANVAS AWNING THAT RANthe length of the two-story, redbrick building, stopping to peer through the plate-glass windows into the office. Treasure Hunters Anonymous was located in the LoDo neighborhood of Denver, an area of historic buildings turned into trendy shops and restaurants. She pushed open the door and walked inside.
“May I help you?” An attractive woman in her mid-forties with silver-touched dark hair rose from behind her computer, one among three sitting on desks along the wall. Several large wooden tables were stacked with papers and files; others were covered by topographic maps and navigation charts.
“My name is Abigail Holland,” she said. “I’ve got an appointment with Mr. Logan.”
The woman smiled. “I’m Gage’s assistant, Maggie Powell. I’m afraid Gage is on the phone. He should be finished in a few minutes. Have a seat, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Abby sat down in a burgundy-leather wingback chair next to the window. Aside from the chair and the small antique oak table beside it, an area that was visitor friendly, the office was clearly a work space.
Logan’s assistant headed down the hall, disappeared behind one of two closed doors, then returned a few minutes later. “Gage is finished with his phone call. You can go on in.”
“Thank you.”
Abby hoisted the strap of her leather purse onto her shoulder and smoothed back the copper hair she wore in a single long braid down her back. The door to Logan’s office stood open. He rose and rounded a big carved antique oak desk to greet her.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Gage Logan.”
“Abigail Holland.” She extended her hand.
“Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Holland.” Logan’s big palm wrapped around her smaller one, and she felt a little kick she hadn’t expected. He was six-two, she’d read when she’d researched him online, far taller than her own five-foot-four-inch frame. Dressed in khaki pants and a yellow button-down shirt, he had wide, muscular shoulders, and what appeared to be a deep, powerful chest.
“Thank you for seeing me,” Abby said. He was thirty-five years old, she knew, born and raised on a big ranch west of Denver. At nineteen, he’d left home for college and never returned.
He was incredibly handsome, with dark brown hair long enough to brush his collar and a solid jaw roughened by the faint shadow of an afternoon beard. His eyes, an amazing shade of blue against his darkly suntanned skin, carried a fierce gleam of intelligence. Though she’d seen his photo on the internet and seen his face on the cover ofNational Geographic, she hadn’t been prepared for the impact of meeting him in person.
“Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me why you’re here?” Logan led her over to a claw-foot round oak table in the corner surrounded by four oak chairs. Like the outer office, there were stacks of papers and maps around the room, on the floor and the tops of both oak file cabinets. Manila folders sat in a haphazard pile on the corner of his desk. There was a door off to one side that appeared to open to a private bathroom.
“Can I get you something?” Logan asked. “Coffee, or maybe a soda?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
He rested an elbow on the table, his shirtsleeves rolled up over muscular forearms. “I understand you have a proposition for me.”
Her mind went straight to the bedroom. The man had sex appeal and plenty of it. Add to that, she had been following his exploits ever since her grandfather had mentioned him several years back and had begun to imagine him as having almost superhuman abilities. She had a fair complexion, and she hoped the color in her cheeks wouldn’t betray her thoughts.
Abby smiled. “A proposition, yes. I want you to help me find a treasure. That’s what you do, right? You find all sorts of missing things, historical artifacts, sunken ships, missing airplanes.”
“My partner and I tend to specialize, but basically, yes, that’s what we do.”
“But it was you who found the lost rubies of Amanitore, right? Gems that belonged to the Queen of Nubia?”
He nodded. “The rubies actually belonged to a daughter of the queen. I’ve been back in the States for a while since then, but yes, I led the expedition that found them.”
“I want you to help me find my grandfather’s treasure.”
Logan leaned back in his chair. “That was in the message you left on my phone. Interesting, but not very informative. What sort of treasure are you looking for?”
Abby’s smile widened. “Gold, Mr. Logan, at least two hundred million dollars’ worth.”
Logan’s expression didn’t change, the gigantic sum clearly not impressing him. “I assume you have some reason to believe you know where to find it, or at least have some clue as to where it’s supposed to be located.”
“I have a map, Mr. Logan. It was willed to me when my grandfather died. In the past few months, I’ve been making preparations to find it, but I need your help.”
“It’s just Gage, and you realize most treasure maps are fake, even the old ones.”
“Not this one. My grandfather was an explorer, much like you. His name was King Farrell. I believe you may have heard of him.”
