Melody's Six

“Every marriage is different, I guess,” Dean said blandly. “Not every wife has a head for business like my sweetheart here.”

“I’m sure that’s true.” Atwell stared hard at Mel. “How did you meet your husband?”

“A retreat for photographers in Montana.”

Atwell’s scrutiny made Dean’s skin crawl. He picked up the rest of the story they’d rehearsed, drawing the man’s attention away from Mel. She chimed in at the right spots and it seemed they’d almost driven away Atwell when the kitchen doors swung open.

A young woman emerged, smiling as she cleared plates and refilled coffee cups. She wore a Lattice Creek uniform of black pants and a forest-green long-sleeved T-shirt. Above the logo for the ranch, her name tag read “Dana”. Her black hair was caught up in a bun at the nape of her neck and mostly covered with a green scarf. Her golden-brown complexion, dark eyes and bone structure bore a striking resemblance to Atwell.

Under the table, Mel’s hand dug into Dean’s thigh, the only outward indication she recognized the woman. It made sense that Atwell would bring along key members of his family and his business when he’d left Afghanistan.

“Dana! Over here, my dear.” Atwell waved her closer. “Take these dishes, please. The Turners have finished.”

With a warm smile, he made introductions as the young woman did as he asked. “Mr. and Mrs. Turner, this is my daughter.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Dean said for both of them.

Mel smiled brightly. “Breakfast was awesome. Were you the one cooking for us?”

“Just assisting as I learn,” Dana replied. “It’s been one opportunity after another since we came to Colorado.” She gave her father a confident grin. “One day I hope to be the executive chef here.”

“In due time, my dear.” Atwell’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Anything is possible.”

“Especially here.” She gathered the dishes and headed back toward the kitchen.

“She’s lovely,” Mel said. “You must be so proud of her.”

Dean tensed. Was she baiting Atwell?

“She is our youngest. A pure joy.” His expression softened. “Our other children have flown the nest, off to their own lives and families.” Those dark, beady eyes turned hard as he studied Mel. “I imagine your work interferes with your duty to motherhood.”

Dean started to reply, but Mel stopped him with a sweet murmur. “He’s protective,” she stated. “I’m the luckiest bride in the world.” She lifted his hand to her lips for a quick kiss. “Of course we want children. In due time,” she added, using Atwell’s phrase. “I can’t wait to raise up little boys with Dean’s mischievous blue eyes.”

“Or daughters with your golden curls,” Dean added.

“Please, forgive me.” Atwell inclined his head. “I meant no offense.”

She waved that off. “None taken. Everyone is on a unique journey.”

Atwell narrowed his gaze. “You are quite unexpectedly philosophical.”

“She sure can be.” Dean’s patience was gone. “If you’ll excuse us, Spalding is ready to go.” He stood up and helped Mel do the same.

“Would you like coffee for the road?” Atwell asked.

“No, thanks. We’re good,” Dean replied for both of them. He wanted Mel out of Atwell’s sight as soon as possible. “Thanks for breakfast.”

He guided Mel out of the lodge, somehow managing not to throw her over his shoulder and make a run for it.

“That man is dangerous,” he said, his voice low, as he opened the passenger door for her.

“And he’s up to something.”

Her words did nothing to alleviate the tension gripping him. Dean didn’t care about Atwell’s agenda if it put Mel in harm’s way. His jaw ached and there was no hope of relief while Spalding’s team milled around, debating who would ride in which vehicle. At last, they were loaded up and heading toward the first site on the schedule.

In the passenger seat, Mel looked cool as ever. She was the smooth one in their partnership. He would always need more practice hiding behind a fake smile. In the driver’s seat, as the group moved out, he took the time to stretch his neck and jaw while they had some privacy.

“I know you’re upset,” Mel said.

The heavy resignation in her voice didn’t make him want to cheer. No. He was ready to drive away. Away from Lattice Creek, away from the assignment, and straight to the nearest FBI office to report that the crime lord Azizi was living right here as James Atwell. “I’m fine.”

She snorted. “Don’t blow smoke. I didn’t expect him to bring up having kids.”

Kids? “That’s not why I’m upset.” After his freak-out about fake marriage, she had every right to expect him to react poorly to the topic. The idea held a strange, unexpected appeal. Maybe he was falling for their cover story, but he thought a little girl with Mel’s features and attitude would make for a beautiful and incredible life.

“Oh. Good.” Her eyebrows flexed. “Then what’s the issue?”

She did not just ask him that. Mel’s instincts were better than this. He wasn’t buying this routine that she hadn’t noticed Atwell’s creepy focus. “Atwell’s interest is the issue.”

“He’s a calculating, arrogant bastard. Whatever his curiosity about us, it will have something to do with his business plans.”

Dean changed the subject. “Who is Dana to you?” he asked.

“No one significant. She’s the youngest daughter. I knew her as Daania in Afghanistan. Easy enough to westernize the name to Dana. She didn’t recognize me. You can’t be worried about that.”

He agreed, grudgingly. The young woman had seemed content, happy even, with her new home and job prospects. She’d been outgoing and upbeat, and showed no visible fear of her father. “Was she the one who got word to you about the assassination attempt?”

“No idea.” Mel pulled the tie from her hair and ran her hands through it. While he watched the rutted path and followed the other vehicles winding deeper into the mountains, she braided her hair. “I’m as concerned as you are about being recognized. If Atwell realizes I survived, whoever tipped me off will die.”