The Last Mile, page 19
Abby went up on her toes and kissed his lean cheek. “It’s good to see you again, Mateo. Thank you so much for coming.”
He just smiled and returned his attention to Gage. “Everything is set. Your brother waits at the hacienda.”
Gage nodded. “Good. We’ve already had some trouble.” He tried not to think what might have happened to Abby if he hadn’t gone straight back to the hotel. Clearly, their pursuers knew about the treasure and believed she had the information they needed to find it.
Truth was, she did. Which put her in grave danger. Abby and everyone else involved in the search. Until the gold was found and brought out—or they gave up and left Mexico—they needed to be on constant alert.
“Two men posing as waiters came into the room while I was away from the hotel,” Gage explained as he and Mateo loaded the luggage into the back of the Hummer. “They were after Abby.” Turning, he caught her chin and moved her face to display the dark bruise on her jaw.
Mateo frowned.
“I got back in time, or they would have succeeded,” Gage said. “I’m damned glad Edge is here.”
“Sí, your brother arrived well-prepared.”
After his years in Special Forces, Edge never did anything without being prepared. There was no way to tell just how much opposition they would be facing before this was over. Or how far their pursuers would be willing to go.
They climbed into the Hummer. With Mateo at the wheel, they left the airport and took Mexico/261 to Mexico/180E for the hour-long drive out of Mérida, a city with one of Mexico’s largest populations, half of which was of Mayan descent.
Gage had chosen to stay at the historic Hacienda San José, an upscale boutique hotel, because it had been one of the oldest sisal plantations in the Yucatán and was located not far from the ruins. There were hundreds of haciendas in Mexico, some still beautifully maintained, others falling into disrepair or almost totally gone.
Though the Hacienda San José had been completely remodeled, its historical aspects hadn’t been altered. Gage figured it would give them some sense of what the original Peralta plantation might have looked like before it descended into ruins.
At the last minute, he’d had Maggie extend the reservation, giving any interested party the illusion that the hacienda was their headquarters for the search.
Instead, they would be taking rooms in what barely passed for lodgings about an hour’s drive away, in the tiny town of Alux’ob, the Mayan name for the spirits the locals believed inhabited the area—small invisible creatures who supposedly whistled to scare off predators or thieves.
Fitting, Gage thought, considering what they had come to retrieve.
The Hummer turned off the main highway onto a narrow road lined with lush green tropical vegetation. Vines covered stone archways, and palm trees sprouted alongside the road.
The vehicle continued to the hotel, and Mateo pulled to a stop in front. Gage helped Abby down from the Hummer, his insides tightening as his gaze snagged on the spreading dark spot on her jaw.
As much as he’d wanted to call the police, there was no way he could. Too many people knew about the expedition as it was.
Abby’s attackers were still on the loose, but at least he’d managed to land a few solid punches, one that had broken the bigger man’s nose. He felt a sweep of satisfaction at the memory of Abby crashing a vase over the mustached waiter’s head, dispensing some small measure of justice.
Mateo took Abby’s carry-on, and they walked into a spacious open-air lobby with lofty wooden ceilings and bright-painted walls: red, blue, and yellow against crisp white. A polished red-tile floor stretched down the halls.
Unfortunately, they had traded the comfortable 80-degree weather of Mexico City for the moist 95-degree heat of the Yucatán. Inside the hotel, air conditioning cooled much of the interior, and ceiling fans whirred overhead.
With only fifteen rooms and most of the occupants out sightseeing in the area, there weren’t many people about, which suited Gage just fine. A dark-skinned desk clerk with the large curved beak depicted in many Mayan drawings handed over two keys to the suite Maggie had reserved.
“Your room has a beautiful view of the garden, Señor Logan. I hope you and your lady enjoy it.”
“I’m sure we will.” Gage handed a key to Abby, who was taking in the hand-carved furniture, open archways, and lush greenery that freshened the interior.
Gage declined the clerk’s guidance to the room, set a hand at Abby’s waist, and urged her down the hall in the direction the man pointed. Halfway there, he spotted his brother approaching.
“Glad you got here safely.” Edge gripped his shoulder and leaned in, then bent and kissed Abby’s cheek. He frowned at the bruise on her jaw. “I got your text. You weren’t kidding when you said you had some trouble at the hotel. You okay, Abby?”
“I’m all right. Glad Gage showed up when he did.” She flicked him a glance that reminded him she was here to stay and not going home until this was over. Gage almost smiled. He had to admit she was as determined as he was.
“I hope you got in a few good punches,” his brother said.
Gage grunted, his mind returning to the clash at the hotel. “Not enough. Abby cracked one of the bastards over the head with a ceramic vase. He’ll have a headache for a while.” She was feisty, all right, he thought. Especially in bed. Gage’s groin tightened.
Edge smiled at Abby and winked, and Gage felt a shot of irritation. With his glossy, slightly curly black hair, longer since his departure from the military, blue eyes, and high cheekbones, Edge had always attracted women. Fortunately for him, he had never pursued a female who belonged to Gage.
“When did you check in?” Gage asked him.
“Been in the area a while. Checked in here this afternoon.” Edge had been doing preliminary reconnaissance, per their plan. Gage had no idea how long Mateo had been in the Yucatán—long enough, undoubtedly, to know his way around. His ability to mix with the locals was one of the things that made him so valuable.
Gage grabbed the handle of his carry-on. “Why don’t we head down to my suite? We can order some food and talk things over while Abby and I settle in.”
“Good idea,” Edge said easily. If his brother was surprised he had brought Abby on the expedition, that she would be sleeping in his bed, it didn’t show.
Gage led the way to their suite and opened the door into an airy, high-ceilinged room painted in white and the same tropical green as the lush potted palms on the red tile floors. An open-ceilinged thatched roof rose overhead, and the king-sized bed was draped with netting.
Gage flicked a glance at Abby. Tonight he would take her in this luxurious bed, but as soon as they were installed in their crowded, threadbare accommodations in Alux’ob, he would have to keep his hands off her. Not an easy task, he had discovered.
By the time they collected the luggage that had been shipped directly to the hotel and Mateo had ordered supper for all of them, it was after seven and already dark outside.
“Your text said you got the permits,” Edge said as they sat in wooden chairs around a rustic table in the corner of the suite.
“It cost us a pretty penny,” Gage said. “But if we find what we’re looking for, it’ll be worth it.”
“You think the trouble at the hotel will follow you down here?”
“I think there’s a very good chance, though once we leave for Alux’ob, it may take them a while to find us.”
“I took a look at the town,” Edge said. “The place is about as low-key as it gets, not much more than a clearing on the side of a dirt road leading into the tropical forest. There’s a cantina, the hotel—if you can call it that, the Posada Utsil—and a single-pump gas station.”
“Sounds perfect,” Gage drawled. “We won’t have to worry about tourists.”
“That’s for sure,” Edge said. He sprawled back in his chair, making the wood screech, and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Unfortunately, we’ve got a little problem we didn’t plan on.”
“What’s that?” Gage asked.
“From what I’ve learned, there are three cartels working this area: Los Zetas, the Pacific Cartel, and the Gulf Cartel. Unfortunately for us, Los Zetas and the Gulf Cartel are having territorial issues. They’re a time bomb ready to explode.”
Gage’s jaw tightened. “Just what we need.”
“I have heard this, also,” Mateo said. “The people in the villages are worried.”
Gage shook his head. “Nothing we can do but charge forward.”
“Actually, I’ve made a few plans in that regard,” Edge said. “I’ve got a couple of people flying in, vets I know we can trust. They’ll act as part of my team while you’re working.”
“Great. When do they get here?”
“Couple of days. They’ll be meeting us in Alux’ob.”
“We’ll need more rooms.”
“Already took care of it.”
Gage nodded. “I plan to spend tonight and tomorrow night here, so that should work just right. I want to take a look around, get a feel for the area. We can move some of our gear into the rooms in Alux’ob, check it out, and get our base of operations set up. As soon as that’s happened, we can pinpoint the location of the old hacienda and take our first look.”
Neither Edge nor Mateo had actually been to the ruins. There was no way to know who was watching, and they needed to be prepared before showing their hand.
“We need to figure different routes in and out in case we have to move in a hurry,” Edge said. “If the treasure’s there, we need the extraction to be as fast and efficient as possible. We get in, get what we came for, and get the hell out—the sooner the better.”
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. The waiter arrived with a rattling cart. He walked over and opened tall wooden doors that led out to a private patio surrounded by tropical forest. Though the dry forest itself posed a hostile environment, it was also beautiful.
Bright red flowers covered the ground, white orchids nestled in the roots of a massive banyan, and more flowers hung from a nearby tree in thick yellow clusters.
A soft floral scent hung in the air as the waiter laid a supper of traditional Mayan food on a linen-draped table. The evening temperature was cooler, but still warm.
Gage seated Abby next to him at the table. As soon as Edge and Mateo sat down, the waiter quietly disappeared.
“What are we eating, Mateo?” Abby asked, studying the colorful meal on her plate.
Mateo smiled. “It is called chocinita pibil, a slow-cooked pork dish. It is served with corn tortillas, pickled red onion, habanero salsa, and cilantro.” He pointed to another dish. “Yucatecan tamales filled with chicken. They are covered with achiote, an earthy, mildly tangy paste made from the annatto seed.”
“Looks delicious,” Abby said.
“Sí, and we have marquesitas for dessert. Like a French crêpe,” he explained. “Only thinner and crunchier. These are filled with chocolate, but it could be anything from cheese to Nutella.”
“Let’s dig in,” Gage said. “A day or two of luxury is the most we’re going to get.”
* * *
“They are here.” Paulo Escobar stood in the doorway of the study.
“Here? In Sacniete?” The town’s name was a Mayan word that meant White Flower. Hardly fitting, Arturo thought, considering the criminal element that did business in the small, inconsequential village.
“They arrived in Mérida two days ago,” Paulo explained. He was dark-haired and thin-faced, nothing but lean, sinewy muscle. He had been working for Arturo since the glory days when Arturo had money to burn, an inheritance from his wealthy father. Those days were past, but Paulo and some of Arturo’s most trusted men had stayed with him, certain the good times would come again.
Maybe they finally had.
“The girl and the others are staying at the Hacienda San José.” It was a well-known hotel in the Yucatán.
“So the old man was right.” Arturo rose from the chair behind the ornate desk in his study, one of the last few pieces of original furniture he hadn’t been forced to sell. “It wasn’t just more of his lunatic ranting and raving.”
“It is true he was feverish, nearly out of his mind, but Zuma believed him from the start. The old man talked about the gold. He said the girl would come. Now she is here.”
“She has come to retrieve the gold,” Arturo said. Just as the old man had believed she would.
“Perhaps all we need to do is follow where she leads,” Paulo suggested.
“And if she and Logan are smart enough to elude our watchdogs and manage to find the gold?”
Paulo was wise enough not to reply.
“Send a man to watch the hotel. Have him report their movements back to me.”
Paulo left the study, and Arturo leaned back in his chair. Through the arched windows, he could see what used to be a magnificent garden with a rectangular pool off to one side. Now the garden was overgrown, long stringy weeds poking up through the ancient carved stones taken from the ruins of a Mayan temple, stones that were used to build the floors and terraces of the house.
The pool was now empty, its interior walls crumbling, just like the rest of the Velásquez family’s once-beautiful estate.
As the oldest son, he had inherited Hacienda Cieba through his father, who expected him to be its guardian, to pass it down to future generations. Instead, he had invested his inheritance unwisely in one scheme after another, until his father’s fortune had dwindled to almost nothing.
The hacienda and the property around it were all he had left. He had sold off the furnishings in the once-magnificent bedrooms, library, and gallery, even several hectares of land. He had kept the main salon and his study as they were, a façade for the few visitors that still came to the house.
The rest of the hacienda had fallen into disrepair, and he didn’t have the money to return it to its once-glorious state.
Worse yet, he was dependent on his younger brother’s charity just to maintain what he had left. Ramón was a powerful cartel leader and even more ruthless than Arturo. Ramón wielded the sword of money and authority, and Arturo had no choice but to bow to his commands.
The muscles in Arturo’s neck tightened. He had failed his father, failed his grandfather and his ancestors before them.
Unless . . .
Unless the sick old man that Zuma had brought to him had been telling the truth. In his delirium, he had spoken of a great fortune, a treasure he had been hunting for years.
He had found it, he’d said in his barely lucid ramblings. Gold worth millions of dollars.
Arturo needed to speak to Zuma, confirm what they knew so far. Then he could move forward with his plan.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ABBY RODE NEXT TO GAGE IN THE SECOND HUMMER, WHICH bumped and swayed over the dirt road leading to their destination, Alux’ob, the tiny town closest to the ruins of the Hacienda del Oro Verde, fifteen miles away.
Mateo drove the Hummer in front of them, Edge riding shotgun. Shotgun, she mentally repeated, smiling since the men in both vehicles were armed to the teeth.
Edge and Gage each carried a pair of semiautomatic pistols; Edge was also armed with a Mossberg Thunder Ranch shotgun, or so she’d been told, and Gage had his big knife strapped to his thigh. No one ever seemed to know what weapons Mateo carried, but she was sure he had something.
All of them were strong men, and tough enough to take on cartel members—or anyone else—if it came to that. With the scruff of beard along Gage’s square jaw and an olive drab T-shirt stretched over his massive chest, he looked capable and determined, and sexy as hell.
As the vehicle hit a pothole in the road, Abby flicked him a sideways glance. Gage gripped the steering wheel, causing his thick biceps to bulge beneath his short-sleeved T-shirt, and her mouth actually watered. She knew exactly what all those delicious muscles looked like, exactly how they felt beneath her hands, remembered how good his big body felt pressing her down in the mattress.
She thought about what had happened between them in the net-draped king-sized bed last night and wished it would happen again.
Not likely with their shabby new lodgings being a less-than-one-star accommodation in the middle of the tropical forest. She’d be lucky if their room had a toilet.
She cast Gage a glance. Though his weapons were out of sight, stuffed into the pockets of his cargo pants, they were within easy reach should they run into trouble.
A definite possibility. Where millions of dollars in gold were concerned, anything could happen.
Abby thought back to the kidnap attempt in Mexico City and wondered if the men had followed. Their secret was no longer well-guarded. Too many people knew they had come to Mexico in search of gold.
The taillights of Mateo’s Hummer flashed on as the vehicle slowed. Edge had devised a means of leaving the Hacienda San José unseen; then he had made certain they weren’t followed.
They were approaching what looked like a wide spot in the narrow dirt road. A couple of square buildings with flat metal roofs sat on each side, one with a lone gas pump out in front. A red-painted building at the far end of what passed for a town had a sign out front that read, POSADA UTSIL, a combination of Mayan and Spanish that translated as Best Hotel.
Abby sighed. Home sweet home, she thought.
Gage checked them in, parked in a space in front of the room, and unloaded some of their gear into one of the extra rooms he had rented. With the rooms Edge had added, they took up the entire hotel.
“Not much, is it?” Gage said, surveying the tight quarters that had a double bed, a single nightstand holding a lamp with a partially broken shade, and a three-drawer dresser that had seen better days. There was a wobbly ceiling fan above a trio of naked bulbs that lit the room with harsh, unforgiving light.
Abby breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted a rusty toilet through the open bathroom door. At least she wouldn’t have to share with the other men.
