True, he silently admitted. Deprivation, even torture had not penetrated the mind of the man he’d imprisoned in the old prison cells beneath the Velásquez family’s deteriorating hacienda.
Arturo thought of the day Zuma had come to him. A friend had fallen deathly ill, she’d said. She needed a doctor, but had no money.
The doctor Arturo had so generously provided had immediately reported the old man’s ramblings, snaring Arturo’s interest. A little research confirmed that King Farrell was an explorer, a famous treasure hunter. Could his delirious claims of finding millions in long-buried gold actually be true?
Whispers of treasure had been circulating in the Yucatán for more than a century. If Farrell had discovered the location of the gold, Arturo was determined to claim it.
He turned to Paulo, who stood alertly next to the door. “Did you deliver the letter?”
“Sí.Neither Logan nor the girl were at the hotel at the time. Rico left it at the front desk, as you instructed.”
It had taken weeks to track down the granddaughter Farrell had mentioned in one of his rants. Abigail, he’d said, would be coming for the gold.
In a last desperate gamble, Arturo had hired an investigator to find her, succeeding just days before she left Denver for Mexico with a man named Gage Logan. She was after the gold, Arturo was sure, on her way to somewhere in the Yucatán, where the old man had come to recover his treasure.
As head of the Velásquez family—which included Ramón, his powerful younger brother—Arturo had put out the word that he was searching for her. Just a day after her arrival, news came that she was staying with Logan at the Hacienda San José.
Arturo glanced at the gilded clock above the mantel over the fireplace. The afternoon was slipping away, and still no word. The letter he had sent was sure to get a response from the girl.
“Call the hotel,” he said. “Find out if the message has been picked up.” Logan and Abigail were sharing a room in the luxurious hotel. Perhaps Logan was merely taking a few days to sample the lady’s charms before venturing out in the heat of the Yucatán to retrieve the gold.
Paulo pulled out his cell phone and made the call. He inquired, then ended the call. “They have not yet returned to their room.”
Arturo’s eyes narrowed. “But theyarestill there.”
Paulo swallowed nervously. “Rico was watching the hotel as you wished, but Logan and the girl managed to slip off without being seen. They still have a room, but they have not yet returned.”
Arturo could feel the fury burning into his face. “You are telling me you don’t know where they are?”
“They haven’t checked out. Rico thought they would be back by now.”
Arturo shot up from his chair. “This is exactly what I was afraid of!”
Paulo’s hand shot out as if to protect himself. Arturo noticed with satisfaction that it trembled.
“The drive is little more than an hour,” Paulo said. “I will go to the hotel myself. I will find out where they’ve gone, and I will personally deliver the letter.”
Arturo sat back down, his mind running over the possibilities. There was no way to know for sure that the girl knew where to find the treasure. At least not until he talked to her. His lips thinned. If she knew, sooner or later she would tell him.
“You have twenty-four hours,” he said. “Not a minute more. If you have not found them, you and Rico will take up residence in one of the cells beneath the house.” He allowed his lips to curve in a smile that showed his teeth. “And your fate will be far worse than that of the old man.”
Paulo gave a single brief nod and strode for the door. It closed soundlessly behind him.
Zuma rose from her chair. “If he finds them, can you not just follow them to the gold?”
“They may not know where it is. They may just be searching, following in the old man’s footsteps. Or they may know exactly where it is and find a way to elude us—as they have already managed to do. I will find them—and I won’t let it happen again.”
“What if Abigail doesn’t know the location of the gold?”
Arturo shrugged. “Then she will become expendable.” He gave Zuma the same fake smile he had given Paulo. “Just like your old friend, King Farrell.”
* * *
At Gage’s insistence, Abby sat in the shade for half an hour before returning to work. Mateo had armed her with a six-inch knife so she could cut through vines or deal with another vicious rodent.
Abby smiled.
By the end of the afternoon, they had managed to secure a safe way into the chamber below the hacienda. Gage stripped off his shirt to work in the heat, and Abby found herself mesmerized by the sexy display of hard male muscle.
