Jack Foxx came over to speak to Gage. “Captain’s got everything set. We’ll be landing fast and hard, so you need to be ready.” Foxx went around to the others and delivered the same message, told them to be prepared to put their heads down in the crash position.

Crash position. The words sent a tremor down Abby’s spine.

“We’ve been lucky so far,” she said, thinking of the gold they had found and that they’d survived several close calls. “I hope our luck holds out.”

“So do I.” Gage reached over and took her hand, held it snugly in his bigger one.

The plane began to circle as it descended. She heard the clank of the landing gear locking into place; then the nose tipped downward to the runway as the plane angled toward the ground.

Abby looked up at Gage, whose face was set in hard, grim lines. Every emotion she felt for him rushed into her heart. If they died, she would never see him again. Or maybe just Gage would die, or she would. Anything could happen.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you,” she said. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true, and I wanted you to know . . . in case . . . in case something happens.”

“Dammit, Abby, nothing is going to—” The wheels slammed down on the tarmac, jarring the entire cabin. The plane bounced up, swooped down and hit again, shimmied, and kept rolling. The ground rushed past, turned into a blur of colors flying by outside the windows. The tower rushed past, but the plane kept going.

Through the porthole, she saw fire engines lined up near the end of the runway, their red lights flashing. Her stomach tightened as the brakes clamped down. She smelled burning rubber. The wheels locked, then released, locked and released. The plane slowed, but not enough. They were rapidly reaching the end of the runway, nothing but dirt and sagebrush beyond.

The brakes gripped and released, gripped and released. The plane shuddered and continued to slow.

“Put your heads down, everyone!” Gage called out as they hit the end of the tarmac and bounced across the field, rolled and bounced, rolled and bounced, finally slowed and slid to a stop.

Abby’s heart thundered, and her mouth felt bone dry. Foxx popped his belt, hurried over to the emergency escape hatch, pulled a lever, and a rubber slide deployed and filled with a rush of air.

Fire engines raced toward them.

“Let’s go!” Gage commanded, rounding up the others and herding them toward the slide. “Zuma, you first, then Carlos.”

The buxom woman sat down and shoved off, slid to the bottom and stood up, ready to catch Carlos. The boy grinned up at Abby as he slid down the chute, raising his arms over his head on his way to the ground.