Mateo reached the top of the stairs. Abby and Gage still stood at the bottom with Jack when a group of soldiers raced across the tarmac in a pair of camouflage Jeeps. Abby’s pulse leaped as the Jeeps slid to a halt, the soldiers jumped down and spread out around them.

“What the hell?” Gage said.

“Stay right where you are!” The man in charge gave the command in broken English. “Raise your hands!”

Abby trembled as she lifted her arms into the air. She flicked a glance at Gage, whose jaw looked iron hard. Foxx’s expression betrayed nothing.

A small man in a tailored gray suit, thick black hair cut short on the sides and long on top, walked toward them across the tarmac. Abby’s eyes widened. Victor Alamán, the man Gage had phoned for help during their firefight with Velásquez’s men and the local cartel crew.

Gage eased her a little behind him. “What’s going on, Victor? You didn’t get the . . . gift . . . I had messengered over?”

A cashier’s check for over four million dollars—the bribe they had paid him.

“Sí, I did. Sadly, I realized three percent of the enormous fortune you found was no longer a fair amount, not after the help I gave you.”

Abby’s gaze took in the half dozen armed men who pointed weapons in their direction.

“So you want to renegotiate,” Gage said flatly.

“That is correct. You give me the gold and get to leave Mexico with your friends, instead of facing years in prison for trying to cheat the government out of its fair share of the bounty.”

“Your government was paid exactly what we agreed on.”

A gust of wind ruffled the longer hair on top of Alamán’s head. “Unfortunately, there is no way for you to prove that. I assume the gold is in the cargo bay of the plane. It shouldn’t take too long to unload it and get you on your way.”

Gage turned to Abby, his brilliant blue eyes fixed on her face. “Get on the plane, Abby. Jack, you go with her.”

“I’m staying here,” she said. No way was she leaving Gage behind to face the consequences alone.

Jack didn’t move. His equally blue eyes locked with Gage’s in some sort of silent communication.

Jack turned toward her. “We need to get on the plane, Abby.” There was steel in those blue eyes now. For the first time she realized there was a lot more to Jack Foxx than just a carefree playboy.

“Now,” he repeated. Gripping her arm, he urged her past Gage toward the metal stairs. “Go . . .” he said, squeezing her arm. It was a signal, she realized. Gage was helpless to do anything as long as he was worried about her safety.