His wolfish smile broadened. “If you wish to leave Mexico alive, you will find the gold—for both our sakes.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
EDGE STOOD IN THE SHADOWS JUST INSIDE THE WALL SURROUNDINGthe hacienda. Trace stood watch near the rear entrance, while Skye had moved into a position in the garden near the empty swimming pool.
There was an armed guard near the front door and one out back. The tall man—Edge had heard him called Paulo—and three other men were still in the house with Gage and Abby.
Edge’s radio vibrated.
“They’ve been in there too long,” Trace said. “What do you want to do?”
Edge didn’t blame him for getting antsy. Edge was worried too. But patience was something he had learned in special forces.
He thumbed the mic. “Hold your position. We let this play out.”
At least for now. He hadn’t heard any gunshots or any sign of a scuffle, though with the thick walls of the hacienda, sounds had trouble bleeding through.
“Roger that,” Trace said.
“Copy,” said Skye, who was on the same channel.
But as Trace knew, the longer Gage and Abby stayed inside, the greater the danger. Edge changed position, moving toward the window, where the light of a low-burning lamp illuminated the room.
The man had returned to his desk. No sign of Gage or Abby.Not good.
Edge changed position again, hoping to pick up his brother’s location somewhere in the house. But the rest of the hacienda was dark, and no sounds came through the glass panes. Where were they?
Suddenly he knew. Gage had said the old haciendas—like the one they were searching—had prison cells under the house.
He checked his watch, then thumbed his mic. “Five minutes. If they aren’t out by then, we go in.”
“Roger that,” Trace said.
“Copy,” said Skye.
And they all settled in to wait.
* * *
Don Arturo had returned upstairs, leaving Paulo in charge.
“We’re leaving,” Abby said to King, squeezing his hand. “We’re taking you to the hospital.”
King’s faraway gaze shifted, and his eyes sharpened on her face. “No . . . hospital,” he said, the words surprisingly clear.
“You’ve been ill for months. You need medical attention. The doctors will take care of you, help you get well. You have to go, King.”
His head lolled from one side to the other in a negative movement. “No . . . hospital,” he repeated.
The woman appeared in the open cell doorway. “I am Zuma, King’s friend. Please . . . we need to speak.”
Abby didn’t want to leave him. She needed to get her grandfather out of there as fast as possible.
“I’ll stay with him,” Gage said. “But we need to go.”
Zuma led Abby into the hallway. She was a handsome woman, with a voluptuous figure. Abby wondered at the relationship between her and King.
“There is nothing a hospital can do for your grandfather,” Zuma said. “He is dying of cancer.”
