CHAPTER9
Mel toldherself Dean’s intense attention wasn’t anything special. It only felt extra because of the adrenaline lingering in her system. Being calm and cool in the middle of the crisis didn’t mean she’d been unaffected. Dean was the careful and conscientious type and she appreciated those facets of his work ethic. He didn’t take risks, especially not with people who mattered.
As his partner, she mattered. They were a team, each of them integral to the success of their assignment. The caring touches, the way he backed her up, it was all part of the undercover husband and wife deal.
Dean took his time walking to the driver’s side and she knew he wanted to do a full inspection. The way he’d dropped the keys had been a clever workaround, since someone was watching them. At least that was her take. She could chalk it up to residual effects from the shooting in the park, but the sensation was more immediate.
No need for three guesses as to who would put an observer on them. Though she didn’t want to admit it, Atwell was the likeliest source. He was the only person with reason and means. He couldn’t possibly have remembered exactly who she was, but he was clearly determined to watch out for his famous friend.
Dean settled into his seat and buckled up. As soon as he started the engine, he turned up the radio. That was a little much. She didn’t mind that he believed those bullets had been meant for her, but did he really believe someone had bugged the truck while they’d been out in the park?
Foolish to deny the possibility. Atwell had certainly employed similar tricks in his past criminal life. But there was no way he’d figured out she was the CIA officer he’d tried to murder.
If the truck was bugged, she needed to speak carefully, even with the radio on. “Relax, sweetheart.” She stopped short when Dean’s head whipped around to gape at her. Wiggling her ring finger, she continued, “You know that whoever attacked the drone wasn’t shooting at me with any intent. That bullet went right between me and Spalding.”
Her stomach churned, rebelling against her acting effort.
Dean shook his head. “Yeah. Not convinced. I’m thankful for the good luck, don’t get me wrong. I’m really afraid you were the target.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve faced that before when someone tries to scare off the drone operator. As your husband, we need to rethink this job.”
She clamped her lips shut against the automatic protest and focused instead on the sweet flutter around her heart. Having a protective husband like Dean would be incredible.
The very thought startled her, yet denial was useless.
The marriages she’d seen at the agency were rarely inspiring. Secrets and classified intel cast a long shadow between even the strongest couples. It was rare for a relationship to survive the demanding hours and all the things that couldn’t be discussed.
Mel had been an independent kid and she’d taken a path into an increasingly independent career. Despite the brave men and women who gave her backup in the field, the outcomes of those CIA missions rested squarely on her shoulders. Juggling her work and life alone had been the norm, whether the crisis had potential for global impact or was a mere personal annoyance.
Until she joined the Athena Project.
Now, it was all too easy to entertain the idea of having someone to share the load. Having a partner on assignments had changed her outlook entirely. Between jobs, she was surrounded by a great circle of fabulous women who were truly her friends. No more worries about who had an agenda to increase the odds of a promotion or who might leave her hanging.
Of course, these days she and Dean were both surrounded by strong, devoted couples. Beck and Roman had been the first to fall in love with each other, but the others had paired up too.
“Talk to me, honey.”
Oh, not about this. Dean had freaked out too much about wearing a wedding band, though it was only for the cover story. She could hardly admit how nice it felt just to pretend they were truly a couple. Life would only become more amazing with someone to reach out and connect with every day. Not just someone…Dean.
Near miss or not, she needed to rein in her imagination and fast.
“I handled it in the moment,” she said. “But I have to admit the whole thing has rattled me.”
“Why wouldn’t it?” He offered his hand and she laced her fingers through his. “Someone tried to kill you.”
She didn’t want to accept that. Ever since Atwell entered the picture, Dean had gone overboard with the paranoia and protection. What she couldn’t figure out was why that didn’t really bother her. Her normal independence should be clamoring for breathing room.
“Can we debate this over food, please? Nothing makes me hungrier than—”
“Fresh air,” he finished for her. With a sharp smile, he dipped his chin toward the bag on the floor at her feet. “I put a couple of granola bars in your pack this morning.”
“You did?” She grabbed the bag and rummaged through it.
“I wasn’t about to rely on Spalding to give you a break for food,” he said, his voice gruff. “And you like to stay fueled up.”
“You’re the best!” she exclaimed happily when she found the snacks. She unwrapped a bar for each of them.
“Thanks.”
And with that typical example of his thoughtfulness, everything clicked back into place for her. The weird spark keeping her on edge since last night eased up. It had been a close call out there, but they were alive and they’d figure things out.
“I’m a lucky woman to have a hubby who knows me so well.” Holding the granola bar between her teeth, she smoothed the curls that had come loose from her braids during the crisis.
“Goes both ways,” he said.