Melody's Six

CHAPTER11

Dean was impressedwith the horse barn, as were Mel, Dale and Kent. The four of them chatted about various topics, none of them related to the scouting expedition or the earlier trouble. They greeted the horses who stuck their heads over stall doors and Dean, who’d learned quite a bit about horses since helping with Gunny’s ranch, sized up two horses with more gentle personalities. Tomorrow, he’d do his best to make sure Mel wound up on one of those mounts.

They both made note of the impeccable condition of the barn itself and the tack room as they passed by. At the far end of the barn they discovered a well-equipped suite outfitted for the security personnel stationed here overnight.

“Is that weird to you?” Mel asked once they were alone again, heading back to their cabin. “Gunny and RJ don’t have anyone with the horses all night long.”

“The polite answer is everyone does things differently,” Dean replied. He released Mel’s hand so he could drape an arm over her shoulders. “Could be a precaution in place to prevent guests from doing anything foolish.”

She snorted. “More likely it’s just an acceptable way to keep more guards on site.”

“And that’s the kind of thinking that makes us the perfect team.” He glanced down in time to catch the smile on her face as she looked up. Her expression stopped him cold for one hard beat of his heart, then sizzled through him. Drawing her close, he kissed her, reveling in the soft, hot taste of her mouth.

She responded, her soft moan igniting his senses. Easing back, he rested his forehead on hers. “You make me wish we were average-Joe drone operators.”

“Same.” Her breath hitched. “But we have some real work to do before we can fall back into bed.” Her hands coasted up and down his ribs. “When this assignment is over, will this be over?”

God, he hoped not. He stared at her lips, trying to imagine not kissing them. It was a lost cause. Now that they’d crossed that line, he’d never be able to go back to the platonic partnership they’d had before. Trying to imagine it left him tense, tested his sanity.

“No.”

“Good.” Her smile was soft, a little shy. “I’m not sure I can keep my hands to myself.”

“Feel free to let them roam at will.” He made a low growl of pleasure as she did just that.

He wasn’t sure what their relationship would look like beyond this assignment, but they’d have time to sort it out. The other Athena Project partnerships had turned romantic and no one had complained about sub-par performance. He cared deeply for Mel. Oh, who was he kidding? He loved her. Was in love with her. And wouldn’t she run screaming in the opposite direction if he blurted that out?

Being with her had broken through some obstacle he hadn’t known he’d put up against the world. It was wonderful. He’d thought bland caring and friendship was the limit of what he could give to anyone. Being wrong never felt so right. This was a vibrant depth and awareness and a binding sincerity he’d never experienced before.

It should scare the hell out of him. It didn’t.

What he felt when he looked at Mel now was strange and foreign and completely right. He couldn’t walk away from this facet of being with her, even if he wasn’t yet sure how he would give her everything she deserved.

“We’d better get moving while it’s quiet,” she whispered, cuddled up against his chest.

Right. Atwell. The whole reason they were out here. He indulged himself, winding a finger around one of her pale blond curls. “Agreed.”

They entered the cabin and turned the lights down low. Anyone on watch would see a newlywed couple enamored with each other. Within minutes, they were set for a recon mission, with cameras, phones, low-profile tactical goggles, and loaded weapons in addition to the knife each of them carried.

“It’s gonna suck if we get caught poking around in the dark,” Mel said.

For a split-second, he considered asking her to wait, to let him handle the search tonight. She’d fight him tooth and nail and with good cause. Sure, his feelings toward her had shifted, turned personal, and deepened. That didn’t change who she was or her capacity to kick ass.

“When was the last time we got caught doing our job?” he queried.

She rolled her eyes. “Regular drone operators wouldn’t be packing all of this stuff,” she insisted. “Should we come up with a story?”

“I disagree. This morning proved how dangerous our jobs can be.”

“Should we take the drone too?”

He paused, then shook his head. “No. Doing a night-time flyover on our own would be harder to explain if we’re spotted. We can move faster without it.”

“True. Out here the sound would only draw more attention.” With a nod, she moved toward the door. “Whatever the studio was originally concerned about, let’s find something that will send Atwell to prison for the rest of his days.”

They moved cautiously from shadow to shadow until they were clear of the cabins. Dean followed Mel along a gravel service road, trusting her incredible sense of direction. Overhead, the cloudless night made for a stunning dark velvet sky, studded with stars and a waxing moon. The clear air seemed to amplify every breath and footfall. The risk of being caught was high, but the way sound traveled also gave them a slim advantage.

Mel suddenly halted. Soundlessly, she dropped down into a hollow off the road and waited. Dean pressed himself to the trunk of a tree, straining for any clue about what had spooked her. Within a few seconds, he heard the slight crunch of footfalls on gravel. A bulky shape moved closer, pausing on the road.

Definitely a guard, probably walking a perimeter circuit. Was he protecting the dude ranch boundary, or he keeping watch over something else beyond it? The guard stretched his arms overhead, then patted his pockets. A small flare illuminated a thick beard as the guard lit a cigarette.

Rookie mistake, Dean thought. Possibly overconfidence due to a lack of action. The guard’s night vision would be compromised by the flame. He relaxed a little, but didn’t move a muscle until the guard walked out of sight and the sound of his footsteps faded.

Mel stayed low, moving with even more caution now. If the guard was protecting something valuable, something Atwell wanted to keep hidden, there might be trail cameras or other security measures beyond one smoking guard. At the road, she turned slightly, aiming in the direction the guard had come from.

“We’re close,” she said. “Atwell is definitely up to his old tricks. Smell the gun oil?” She was right. He hadn’t picked up the sharp scent yet, his nostrils full of the cigarette smoke. Mel crouched, tugging him along with her.

“Jackpot,” she whispered.