Abby’s greedy cousin, now out on bail, knew the two of them were going after the treasure. Reynolds had guessed; anyone who’d known King Farrell might have their suspicions. Even a local Denver TV station had phoned, asking to interview him about his next project, a request he had denied.

By tomorrow, Victor Alamán would know.

None of them were aware of the details, or the exact location in Mexico of the treasure he was hunting, but their interest had surely been piqued.

Gage moved away from his seat toward the front of the limo and spoke to the driver in Spanish. He wasn’t completely fluent, but he’d been raised on a ranch where the foreman and several of the hands were Latino. When he was a boy, they’d had fun teaching him their language.

“Toma El siguiente derecho,” he said. Take the next right. “Go down a few blocks,” he continued in Spanish, “then circle back to the street we’re on.”

Gage moved back to his seat next to Abby. The driver made the turn, and Gage watched through the rear window. The silver Mercedes appeared behind them a few seconds later.

“You were right,” Gage said, tension settling in his shoulders. “Someone’s definitely on our tail.”

Abby quickly turned to look. “What should we do?”

“Hope to hell they’re just tracking our movements. We’re meeting Edge in Mérida. From then on, we’ll be armed.”

Gage didn’t miss the slight hitch in Abby’s breathing. “Edge is taking care of it?”

Gage nodded, his glance returning to the window. “He was deployed in South America for a while. After he got out of the army, he did personal protection for a corporate exec who worked for PepsiCo in Mexico City before he came back to Denver. He knows his way around down here.” He also spoke Spanish far better than Gage.

As the limo made another turn, the silver Mercedes appeared a few cars back. “They don’t seem to be worried about being spotted,” Abby said.

Which could be good or bad. Harmless government interest or men with serious intentions. Either way, Gage didn’t like it.

“Should we try to lose them?”

“There’s a good chance they already know where we’re headed. If our meeting in the morning goes as planned, we’ll change our airline reservations and leave for Mérida as soon as we can get a flight. We’ll do our best to keep them guessing.”

The beautiful old historic hotel, with its ornate colonial design, lion’s head columns, and stained-glass front doors, appeared up ahead. The driver pulled over to the curb, then came around and opened the rear passenger door.

As they climbed out onto the sidewalk, the silver Mercedes drove past. The windows were tinted too dark to see inside, but the vehicle was an unsettling reminder of just how dangerous their search could get.

* * *