Gage caught a glimpse of him moving among the shadows of a granite outcropping on the left. “He’ll be wherever we need him most.” Gage clamped Kyle on the shoulder. “Stay low and keep an eye on Abby.”

“Will do.” Kyle settled in, his Glock aimed toward the boulders at the top of the mountain. Taking aim, he started firing, drawing attention away from Gage, who ran a zigzag pattern back to his gun.

Several shots rang out, hitting the dirt near Gage’s boots, kicking up dust as he grabbed the rifle and darted for cover. From the directions the shots were fired, he figured three gunmen. More shots rang out, echoing into the surrounding hills.

Moving from one rock to another, Gage managed to reach a jagged mound of boulders on the right side of the flat and disappear out of sight.

Kyle pulled off a round, and several shots blasted the air in his direction.

“Hold your fire!” one of the shooters called down. “We just want to talk!”

They were moving in, Gage figured, shifting to a closer position. There was no way these men had come to talk.

Careful to stay out of sight, he continued climbing from rock to rock, circling to the right, traveling upward until he was above his target. Two men crouched in the rocks below, one with a rifle, the other with a semiautomatic handgun, both weapons aimed toward camp. The one with the rifle had a shaved head and cannon-sized arms; the other was younger, blond, blue-eyed in a sweat-stained Izod and dirty designer jeans, clearly a city boy—the Denver connection.

Where the hell was the third?

Sighting down the barrel of his Winchester, Gage panned the mountains around him. By the time he had spotted his quarry, it was too late.

“Hold your fire!” the third man shouted, a thin, hard-faced guy with stringy brown hair and long, sinewy arms, one of which was locked around Abby’s waist as he dragged her out of the ravine into the center of the camp. The barrel of a pistol pressed against the side of her head.

Gage’s stomach knotted. He swore a soft oath.

“You want the woman to stay alive, toss out your weapons!”

None of them moved.

“I’m not playing games! We know you found the gold. Give it to us, and we’ll let the woman go!”

Gage leveled the rifle at the man holding Abby. From his position in the rocks above and to the right, he could make the head shot and take the guy out. His finger tightened on the trigger. Nerves skittered through him. What if he hit Abby? Or he missed, and the bastard killed her? The knot in Gage’s stomach tightened, and his steady aim wavered. He was already responsible for one woman’s death.

The thought was a knife in his gut.