CHAPTER5
Any lingeringdoubts Mel harbored about Dean’s ability to pull off the married-bliss cover story were long gone. He’d met her at the front of his truck, linked his hand with hers and hadn’t let go yet. If he wasn’t holding her hand, his arm was draped lightly around her waist or shoulders as the entire group was guided through a tour of the massive house.
It was pretty obvious he was trying to make himself her physical disguise, ensuring Azizi—Atwell—viewed the two of them as one indivisible unit. She hoped the plan worked as Dean intended, rather than draw extra attention to them. If anyone else had tried this, she would’ve felt smothered. Might’ve already called an end to the tactic.
But Dean was familiar, his body a warm, comforting support. This wasn’t a stunt to make her feel small or less powerful than him. Their physical differences had no bearing on their actual strengths. His approach actually made her feel good. Cared for. Nurtured.
As a friendly partner.
The risk of being recognized was low, but it was still there. Despite Atwell’s excellent performance as a gracious host who’d never had an evil thought, she didn’t believe he’d truly changed.
She couldn’t afford to be distracted by the bursts of sensation zipping through her system at every point of contact with Dean. All of the extra touchy-feely stuff was more like method acting. And she was obviously falling for it, she decided, when her hand slipped into his back pocket and she caught herself cupping his firm butt. No one else would’ve noticed, she and Dean were once more bringing up the rear of the group as they all admired the stonework of the two-story fireplace dominating the great room.
“I thank you all for indulging me,” Atwell said. “This property and the business opportunity has renewed my spirit.” He clapped Spalding on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t be here without your encouragement, Neil. I am forever indebted to you.”
His humble smile didn’t fool Mel. At her waist, Dean’s fingers tensed ever so lightly. She was right there with him. These two were up to something—or had been in the past.
“Nonsense.” Spalding paused to clear his throat. “It’s what friendship is all about.”
Atwell’s smile wobbled as if he was losing the battle with his emotions. Was the man auditioning for a role in Spalding’s movie? This was an entirely new facet of the man who ruled his family and business with an iron will and sheer brutality. Whatever was going on, everyone in the scouting party was buying it.
“Refreshments are ready for us on the deck.” Atwell extended an arm and the floor-to-ceiling glass doors parted. A nifty trick, and a timely reminder that the house was likely wired to the hilt for security and luxury-level convenience.
Although hospitality was a core tenet of the culture Atwell had been raised in, Mel struggled to reconcile this genial host with the ruthless crime lord.
Her hand in Dean’s, Mel joined the others as they traipsed outside into the balmy evening air. Once again, everyone was in agreement with another chorus of impressed and awestruck murmurs. The deck was as elaborately decorated and appointed as any of the interior rooms with a fireplace, couches and chairs arranged in cozy conversation groupings, two dining tables, overhead lighting, and a full kitchen and bar, complete with staff standing by.
“How long did you say you’ve been in Colorado?” Dean asked Atwell as the group gathered around a table laden with platters of fruits and cheese. Galvanized buckets filled with ice were filled with soft drinks and bottled water.
“Almost two years,” their host replied. “The tourist side of the ranch is growing and gaining momentum. You will be the first guests in our new cabins and you all must tell me if there is anything that would make your stay more comfortable.”
Mel snagged two bottles of water and followed along as Atwell guided them around a corner where the deck overlooked the dude ranch. Handing one bottle to Dean, she tucked herself close to his side as she studied the various features from the central lodge to the paddock and barns. Small, bright new log cabins dotted the hillside, connected by lighted paths. She was doing the math, estimating cost per acre as well as the investment to build such an extensive and elaborate destination.
“That’s quite a set up,” Spalding gushed. “You’ve made great progress.”
“When the work is complete it will look just like the Wild West, but with all of the modern amenities.” Atwell’s hands gripped the polished railing. “The crew is building a trail for a wagon ride tour. We already have horses and provide riding lessons. Dinner is served at the lodge three nights each week. We need a live show,” he added, almost to himself. “Our head chef provides monthly cooking lessons. In person and online. Quite popular.”
“An excellent way to drum up interest,” Lacy said. “I bet that builds all kind of goodwill with the locals and draws in tourists from outside of Colorado.”
“It does. We’re pleased.” His chest puffed up with pride. “We seem to be on the right track. And if the land suits the needs for your movie, even better. For all of us.”
Spalding’s brow furrowed as he stared out over the terrain. “I’m sure we can do some of it here.” He turned, leaning back on the railing to watch the sun’s slow fall behind the mountains, painting the sky in a beautiful wash of orange and indigo. “We definitely need to visit all of the locations my team identified.”
“Of course, of course.”
The placating tone and repetition put Mel on high alert. Unless it meant something different now that he was on American soil, that was Atwell’s polite warning that his will would prevail.
Spalding didn’t seem fazed. He turned to Maria. “Let’s get some numbers together.” He leaned his elbows on the railing while Maria pulled a tablet from her bag. “The budget should have enough wiggle room to rent Lattice Creek during filming. It won’t support the entire production, but the location makes it an excellent hub.”
“The studio is aware that filming in Colorado means transportation is a bigger line item,” Andrew said.
Atwell’s dark eyes sparked with a greed she recognized. Something about that glimpse of his old self calmed her nerves. Whether he’d come here to escape or go legit or was still up to his old tricks didn’t matter. He could be the threat or just a weird coincidence. Either way, Mel felt as if the world had just tipped back into the right order.
She caught a telling flex in Dean’s brow. Her partner was picking up the same vibe. He smoothed a hand over her shoulder. “Mr. Spalding, I can put the rig up right now if you want to get some preliminary views of the ranch.”
The director’s gaze locked with Dean. He was clearly interested, but it was Atwell who answered.
“What can your drone show you in the dark?” He posed the question to the group. “Eat. Rest. You’ll be refreshed for an early start tomorrow,” he said, shooing them back toward the food.
“We did work the entire flight,” Kent reminded him.
“True enough.” With that, Spalding relaxed, joining Maria and Dale as they raved over a tray of appetizers.
The conversation shifted to more common and personal topics as they gathered for the meal. Mel and Dean, still joined at the hip, sat across the table from Lacy and Andrew, close enough to keep tabs visually on Spalding and Atwell.
“Can you believe this house?” Lacy asked under her breath. “It’s straight out of a dream home magazine.”