“I’m all packed,” she said, a fake smile on her lips. They were staying in a suite at the Fiesta Americana in Mérida, about a twenty-minute drive to the airport.

They had sent their gear ahead, all but a carry-on each. She flicked a last painful glance at the big king-sized bed. They had slept together last night, made frantic, almost desperate love, probably for the last time.

Gage seemed to know it, accept it. She ached to think of it, but so did she.

Gage grabbed the handle of her carry-on and wheeled it out of the bedroom. Mateo joined them in the lobby. Zuma and Carlos were also there, looking nervous and excited. Incredibly, Gage had arranged for both of them to return to the States.

Zuma had been instrumental in rescuing a kidnap victim, but her assistance had caused the death of a number of cartel members. Ramón Velásquez, a notorious cartel leader, and his brother, Arturo, posed a credible threat to her life.

And since Carlos was staying with Zuma, the boy could get caught in the crossfire. Or at least that was the case Gage had made.

Zuma had fallen in love with the little boy. They were going to Denver together, where she planned to raise Carlos as her son. Abby would be helping them find a place to live, and Gage planned to set up a trust fund for them.

Money was no longer an object for any of them. After expenses, Mateo, Edge, Trace, and Skye would be receiving a ten percent share. Over ten million apiece. The rest went to the partners, Gage Logan and Abigail Holland.

She was ludicrously rich.

And utterly miserable.

“I got an interesting phone call a couple of days ago.” Gage leaned back in the seat of the black SUV limo carrying them to the airport. Edge, Trace, and Skye had left ahead of them and were already there. Mateo, Zuma, and Carlos rode in another limo a few minutes behind.

“What’s going on?” Abby asked.

“Turns out, transporting five thousand pounds of gold bullion can be a little tricky. There’s no duty on bringing the gold into the country, but physically getting it there is another matter entirely.”

“I have no idea what that entails, but I assumed you’d be shipping it through regular channels.”

“Not exactly.”

The limo pulled up in front of the private jet terminal instead of going around to the International Departure Gate. The driver opened the door, and they got out of the car.

Setting a hand at Abby’s waist, Gage led her over to the glass front door, and they pushed through into the terminal; the limo driver wheeled the carry-ons into the building behind them.

Abby looked up to see a tall, lean, extremely handsome dark-haired man striding toward them, a big smile on his face.

Gage’s partner, Jack Foxx.