Melody's Six

CHAPTER13

The icy ballof fear in Dean’s belly grew with every casual word he exchanged with Andrew and the others from Spalding’s scouting team. It had started when Lacy came back alone, telling him Dana was chatting with Mel. He’d watched from across the meadow, all his willpower tested, as she followed Atwell’s daughter.

Away from him.

According to the note Walker had delivered while everyone was mounting up at the lodge, Beck had authorities closing in on the weapons cache he and Mel had found last night. She’d pulled a picture from Atwell’s visit to Garden of the Gods to run through facial recognition. Apparently, the U.S. Army, along with several other alphabet agencies, were chomping at the bit to get their hands on Atwell for crimes past and present.

The plan was to wait, to play dumb just long enough for Atwell to make his move.

Dean started counting the seconds from the moment Mel left his sight. Then the minutes. Dana served food, offered drinks, with none of her usual bright cheerfulness. Spalding was at the overlook having an intense conversation with Kent. The only thing that Dean could see clearly was Atwell’s absence.

After fifteen minutes, with no sign of Mel or Atwell, he knew the worst-case scenario was going down. Atwell had remembered Mel after all. No way the man’s pride allowed her to live. And his reputation all but guaranteed Mel’s death would be a long, drawn-out misery.

Not on his watch.

Dean made his way to the horse corral, signaling Logan as he passed. Without breaking his security-guard cover, Logan would alert the others and start closing the net up here while Dean went after Mel.

He lowered a rail on the paddock fence and led out his mount and Mel’s too. Once the rail was replaced, he moved into the shade of the trees, working his way to the other side of the meadow.

“Where are you going?” One of Atwell’s guards stepped into his path. “The party is behind you.”

Red dirt stained the tops of the man’s boots. As if he’d been lying on his stomach in a very specific location. Dean kept his temper, barely. “I’m taking my wife out for a private ride. Know what I mean?”

The guard grimaced. “Americans.”

“Yeah, we’re your worst nightmare, buddy. Don’t worry, you’ll be happier doing time in an American prison,” Dean mused.

The guard puffed up. “What did you say?”

Dean dropped the reins and tackled the other man to the ground. He pummeled him in the gut, landed one hard punch on the guard’s jaw. The second one knocked him out. “You’re not so tough,” he muttered.

Using the guard’s plastic ties, he secured his wrists and feet and took his weapons. Patting him down, Dean found a ring of keys as well. He took everything with him and kept going.

It wasn’t easy picking up the trail, but once he had it, Dean moved swiftly, letting the horses pick their way down the steep slope.

He desperately wanted to shout Mel’s name, but kept it locked down in case other guards were in the area. Studying the ground, he tethered one horse to a tree before swinging up into the saddle to move faster. Which way had they taken her?

For a moment he considered going back for the guard and then recognized the futility of that effort. Atwell’s men were loyal to him alone.

He walked the horse for several yards in one direction and couldn’t find any sign that the wilderness had given way to people. Turning back, he gave in and called her name.

“Mel! Melody!”

He held his breath, listening. He didn’t hear her voice, but he caught a faint sound of metal scraping against metal. Passing the horse he’d tethered, he rode toward the sound, praying the mountains weren’t playing tricks on him.

The grating sounds grew louder, and soon he found her. “Mel!” She was locked in a niche in the rock, behind some kind of gate. Leaping from the saddle, he rushed to her. “Are you okay?”

“Cold and mad as hell, but I’m fine.” She reached through the bars to grab his arms. “I can’t get out.”

He fished the keys out of his pocket and held them up. “Let me try.” The first two keys on the ring were useless.

“Atwell’s getting away.” Her voice cracked with her impatience. “I didn’t fight because of the knife.”

“Knife?” Dean’s temper flared. He wanted a piece of Atwell more than ever.

“You were right,” Mel was saying. “He did recognize me. I’m sorry I put you in danger.”

“I’m not the one he attacked,” Dean groused. There were more than a dozen keys to test. He studied the lock, comparing it to the remaining keys.

“That one,” Mel pointed. “It’s new and so is this lock.”

Most of the keys looked new to Dean, but he followed her suggestion. The key fit, and the lock opened. Together they pulled the chain away. He wrenched open the gate and drew her out of the makeshift prison. Into his arms where she belonged.

“He wasn’t coming back,” Mel said into his chest.

“No.” Dean shuddered. Couldn’t help himself. The idea of losing Mel was too much.

She pulled his face down for a kiss. “I knew you’d find me.”

“Always.” He started to tell her about Beck’s takedown plan, but she kissed him again, scrambling his common sense.

“Thank you.” She cupped his face in her shaking hands. “I- I, um, thank you.”

He eased back. “It’s over, Mel. We’ve got him. Or we will soon.” He pocketed the lock and keys and hurried toward the horse. “I’ll tell you everything on the way. Let’s get out of here.”

“Dean, I—”

The sharp sound of gunfire interrupted her, followed by screaming. He paused, his hand gripping hers tightly. “We can go back up to the meadow, or down to the lodge. Your call.”

She winced at more sounds of fighting. “Go. Up. That was Lacy. I promised her she’d be safe.”

Trust Mel to recognize voices, even in a panic. Once they reached her horse, they both mounted and headed up the slope, into the fray.

At first glance it was chaos, but Dean quickly realized the good guys were in control. “Here.” He handed her his pistol. No way was he taking another chance with her safety. “Go to Lacy.” With a nod, Mel circled the meadow toward the paddock where most of Spalding’s crew were seeking any kind of escape or shelter.

A couple of Atwell’s guards were down in the middle of the meadow. Dean didn’t see Atwell. Logan, Walker, Clint, and Hale were effectively cornering the remaining guards on the outlook, providing a barrier between the civilians and the only safe path down the mountain.

Within minutes, they’d either have to jump or surrender.