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.