Книга - Dangerous Relations

Dangerous Relations
Carol J. Post


He'll do anything to save his niece… In this The Baby Protectors novel When her sister’s murdered, Navy man Ryan McConnell insists on protecting Shelby Adair and their niece—especially after someone tries to kidnap little Chloe. But can Shelby trust the child’s uncle? After all, she’s convinced his family’s behind the attacks. But the longer Ryan shields them, the more Shelby wonders if becoming a forever family is their only shot at survival.







He’ll do anything to save his niece...

In this The Baby Protectors novel

When her sister’s murdered, navy man Ryan McConnell insists on protecting Shelby Adair and their niece—especially after someone tries to kidnap little Chloe. But can Shelby trust the child’s uncle? After all, she’s convinced his family’s behind the attacks. But the longer Ryan shields them, the more Shelby wonders if becoming a forever family is their only shot at survival.


CAROL J. POST writes fun and fast-paced inspirational romantic suspense stories and lives in sunshiny central Florida. She sings and plays the piano for her church and also enjoys sailing, hiking and camping—almost anything outdoors. Her daughters and grandkids live too far away for her liking, so she now pours all that nurturing into taking care of two fat and sassy cats and one highly spoiled dachshund.


Also By Carol J. Post (#u42d5a1ac-c700-55f7-be5a-6a4566713b23)

Midnight Shadows

Motive for Murder

Out for Justice

Shattered Haven

Hidden Identity

Mistletoe Justice

Buried Memories

Reunited by Danger

Fatal Recall

Lethal Legacy

Bodyguard for Christmas

Dangerous Relations

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Dangerous Relations

Carol J. Post






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-09736-9

DANGEROUS RELATIONS

© 2019 Carol J. Post

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




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“Someone was here.” Ryan nodded toward the door.

Shelby shifted Chloe to one hip and looked. A breeze lifted a sheet of paper that was affixed to the door. Her chest tightened as a sense of vulnerability swept through her. She scanned the area. No one was loitering nearby. Unless someone was watching them from the woods.

When she glanced back at Ryan, tension emanated from him. He was wearing a light windbreaker-type jacket. Did he have his weapon underneath?

“Let’s get inside.” He nodded toward the door.

She stepped onto the landing and jammed the key into the lock. Ryan waited until she and Chloe were safely inside before he followed them in.

“Call the police.”

Shelby tensed at the urgency in his tone. “What does it say?”

“Paraphrasing? He’s watching.”

Shelby began to pace. “What’s that telling us that we don’t already know? Addy has seen him twice. You chased him.”

“There’s more. He said someday there’ll be no one here to protect you.” Ryan’s jaw tightened. “And Chloe might become collateral damage.”


Dear Reader (#u42d5a1ac-c700-55f7-be5a-6a4566713b23),

I hope you’ve enjoyed Ryan and Shelby’s story and beautiful North Bend, Washington. Earlier this year, my sister and I visited friends there. I was quite taken with the town and so inspired by all the amazing scenery. I decided it would be a great setting for a story. Apparently I’m not the only one, since the TV series Twin Peaks was also filmed there.

Both Ryan and Shelby grew up in dysfunctional homes, but they each had someone with a strong faith who was a guiding light. For Ryan, it was his best friend’s father. For Shelby, it was her aunt. And though the path was winding and it took some time for both of them to come to the place of developing their own faith, eventually those long-ago efforts bore fruit.

May we each be that “someone” whom God uses to make an eternal impact on others’ lives.

Love in Christ,

Carol


The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him...

—Psalms 145:18


Thanks to my friend Nicole Little, who showed me around North Bend and Snoqualmie and patiently answered a gazillion questions.

Thanks to my son-in-law Mike Daunis, who helped me with all things navy. (Thank you for your twenty years of service.)

Thanks to my sister Kimberly Wolff, who not only plots with me but has a built-in radar and works hard to keep this directionally challenged author straight. You’re the best sis ever!

Thank you to my editor, Dina Davis, and my critique partners, Karen Fleming and Sabrina Jarema, for making my stories the best they can be.

And thank you to my husband, Chris, for encouragement, computer help, brainstorming and buying me chocolate.


Contents

Cover (#u79026b16-2396-57bd-bb6d-e435676476b5)

Back Cover Text (#u7bf1b445-f74d-5103-ae35-e0f3b5025e78)

About the Author (#u0f03cd81-b8b5-5822-9c1e-bc81ddd7a0d9)

Booklist (#u53080e3a-8302-572a-80ef-fe126c866353)

Title Page (#ud01f9f75-a364-5af9-a4e8-abedd53b6331)

Copyright (#ua9d86220-c9e0-51d2-a452-6dfca581d714)

Note to Readers

Introduction (#u88dce619-8634-54ba-8249-1de68c75fa14)

Dear Reader (#udc0245c2-bab2-50a2-8e91-f9d3939fba95)

Bible Verse (#u0b138aef-9de7-558a-a8f8-b6587ef26fe8)

Dedication (#u9cf283da-34fa-52f4-b8ac-404204dd2ecf)

ONE (#ub37fd8f8-025b-57e4-9f74-88aad00db832)

TWO (#u27f6c07c-1107-53c1-a4dd-695b79fca85d)

THREE (#u04a3d6f7-c9d0-5bdd-a6bb-de222e1cd929)

FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




ONE (#u42d5a1ac-c700-55f7-be5a-6a4566713b23)


Shelby Adair cruised down I-90, trying to drum up some enthusiasm for the evening ahead. No matter how she pitched it, she couldn’t find many bright spots in the prospect of spending two or three hours with her self-absorbed sister.

But Mia’s company wasn’t the reason she’d scheduled the dinner date. She was an aunt. And she was going to be a good one.

She cast a glance over her shoulder and moved into the far-left lane. Soon she’d cross Lake Washington and join the other vehicles that made up Seattle’s rush-hour traffic. But during the late afternoon, coming in wasn’t as bad as going out. Barring the unexpected, she should arrive at Mia’s apartment complex in thirty minutes.

She was seeing her sister twice in one month. That was a record. But she’d had a valid reason for avoiding contact. Between caring for their dying aunt and keeping the diner afloat, she’d had a full plate. Dealing with Mia’s theatrics would have sent her over the edge.

Now that her aunt was gone, she had no excuse. Besides, she did want to connect with her fifteen-month-old niece. And with her dysfunctional childhood nine years behind her, she might have a shot at developing a relationship with one of her siblings.

It wouldn’t happen with her older sister. Lauren had escaped at eighteen, moved to the other side of the country and never looked back. She hadn’t even responded to Shelby’s voice mails and Facebook messages about their aunt. She hadn’t come to the funeral, either.

Ten minutes later, brake lights lit up the road, and Shelby slowed to a crawl. This was one reason she was glad she’d left Seattle for the sleepy, picturesque town of North Bend. It was only thirty miles away but had always felt like a small chunk of paradise.

She finally exited the interstate and negotiated her Lincoln Town Car through a series of turns. Mia’s apartment complex was ahead on the right. Red and blue lights strobed through trees still bare from winter.

As she moved closer, the muscles drew tight across her shoulders. Two Seattle police cruisers and a crime-scene unit sat in front of the building that housed Mia’s apartment.

Her sister’s words echoed in her thoughts, fragments of a conversation they’d had after the funeral. Mia had said there was something going on at the club where she worked, that if she stumbled across exactly what it was, her life would be in danger. Shelby hadn’t taken her seriously at the time.

She still didn’t. Mia was the ultimate drama queen, the proverbial “girl who cried wolf.” Anything for attention. She’d been crafting fantastic stories since she was old enough to talk.

Shelby stopped in a visitor parking space and killed the engine. When she reached for the door handle, the lights strobing in her side mirror sent tension through her again.

She tried to shake it off. This was a three-story apartment complex. There were more than thirty units in Mia’s building alone. The probability that the police vehicles had anything to do with Mia or little Chloe was low.

She stepped into the chilly March air as a Toyota Prius approached. When it passed, her gaze locked onto the back and stuck. Large black letters stretched across the white rear bumper—Medical Examiner. Parked three spaces down was a white van with the same designation.

Her breath hitched and something dark settled over her. The presence of the medical examiner meant one thing.

Someone was dead.

While the Prius parked, she sprinted toward the building, heart pounding in her chest. It couldn’t be Mia. What her sister had said at Aunt Bea’s funeral was an attention-getting ploy, just like all the other times. Having grown up with Mia, Shelby had her number. Letting the tales get to her was never a good idea.

She bypassed the elevator and ran up the steps, taking them two at a time. She’d never been to her sister’s apartment, but Mia had given her the number—312.

When Shelby burst into the third-floor hallway, a vise clamped down on her chest. Two apartments away, the door was ajar. A woman stood in front of the opening, soothing a crying child in her arms. Tears had left streaks in the woman’s makeup. She wasn’t familiar. The child was.

Where was Mia? Why was Chloe being held by a crying stranger?

Shelby rushed forward, then skidded to a stop. The gold numbers affixed to the metal door put to death the irrational hope that the apartment belonged to someone else. The woman shifted Chloe to her other hip, and Shelby peered around her.

Beyond the entry, a crime-scene tech was kneeling with her back to the door. Next to her, a red smear marked the beige tiles.

Shelby’s stomach did a free fall, and her knees threatened to buckle. Maybe that wasn’t Mia’s blood on the floor. A friend lived with her and helped care for Chloe. Addy, if she remembered correctly.

She shifted her gaze to the woman and spoke over the little girl’s cries. “I’m Shelby, Mia’s sister. What’s going on?”

The woman’s gaze met hers. “It’s Mia.”

“What’s Mia? What happened?”

“She’s gone.”

“Gone where?”

The woman squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Gone.”

Shelby’s mind spun, searching all the possible interpretations of “gone.” Mia could be gone on an errand. But that wouldn’t explain the woman’s tears. Maybe Mia had decided she couldn’t cope with the pressures of motherhood and disappeared, deserting her little girl.

That was the explanation Shelby clung to, because the most obvious one was unthinkable. Her twenty-one-year-old sister couldn’t be dead.

“I went to the store.” The woman’s tone was flat. “I took Chloe with me, so Mia could take a nap. When I got back, Mia was...” A shudder shook her shoulders. “She was on the floor in front of the couch. Someone had slit her throat.”

“Is she...?” The final word wouldn’t come out.

At the woman’s nod, Shelby collapsed against the doorjamb and sank to the floor. Mia was dead. Shelby had finally decided to mend their relationship, but it was too late.

And Chloe was orphaned. Her playboy daddy wouldn’t step up. Based on what Mia had said after the funeral, the guy was worthless.

So it all fell on Shelby. The realization knocked the last of the wind from her.

She was no stranger to responsibility. Through her adolescent and teen years, she’d pretty much raised Mia. They hadn’t been orphans, at least not in the traditional sense. But with a father who worked long hours, an older sister who took off the moment she became an adult and a mother who had years earlier retreated to her room and withdrawn from life, managing the Adair household became Shelby’s responsibility.

At eighteen, she’d traded one mantle for another, taking care of Aunt Bea through grueling rounds of chemo and radiation while keeping the diner afloat. At twenty-five, she’d done it again when the cancer returned. That stint had lasted two years, ending with her aunt’s death two weeks ago.

But this was different. She had no clue how to raise a child. The way Mia had turned out was proof.

She pushed herself to her feet and straightened her shoulders. She hadn’t known how to run a diner, either, but she’d figured it out.

She held out her hands, palms up. “Come to Aunt Shelby, sweetie.”

Chloe wrapped her arms more tightly around the woman’s neck. When Shelby tried to take her, the child released an ear-piercing wail.

“She’s not used to you.” The woman’s tone seemed to hold a note of accusation. Or maybe that was Shelby’s own guilt.

“I’ve been...” What, busy? Too busy to be a part of her niece’s life when she lived forty-five minutes away?

The woman rubbed Chloe’s back in slow circles, whispering soothing words. The screams quieted to gut-wrenching sobs.

Shelby crossed her arms. “Are you Chloe’s babysitter?”

“Nanny.” She extended her right hand. “Addy Sorenson.”

Shelby shook the woman’s hand. Addy wasn’t what she’d pictured. Nannies didn’t normally wear skin-hugging jeans and sweaters with plunging necklines. Add the brilliant blue eyes and the thick mane of hair flowing down her back like black silk, and she couldn’t be further from the stereotypical image of a nanny.

Of course, Mia hadn’t gotten her from a nanny-for-hire ad. Right after Chloe was born, Shelby had visited Mia in the hospital. Mia had planned to go back to her bartender job at the club and had arranged child care—a former coworker named Addy. She’d had a hysterectomy and never returned to work. Apparently, the woman loved children so much she agreed to provide full-time care for little more than room and board. So Mia had gotten a live-in nanny on a day-care budget.

Shelby didn’t know what Addy’s job at the club had been. It didn’t matter. If she’d been caring for Chloe the past fifteen months, she had to know what she was doing. Having her around would also provide some stability in the little girl’s life.

A short distance away, the elevator dinged and two men stepped off. One was a couple of decades older than her and was carrying a black case—he was likely from the medical examiner’s office. The occupant of the white van was apparently inside already. The man nodded at her and Addy, then disappeared into the apartment.

When the other one approached, Chloe twisted and reached for him. “Wyan.”

Wyan?

Addy altered her grip to better hold the now squirming child. “Ryan.” Her tone was tight. Maybe there was some history between them.

As soon as he took Chloe from her, the child’s arms went around his neck and she pressed her face against his throat. “Wyan.” The cries faded to shuddering breaths.

Ryan. Shelby frowned. Chloe’s father’s name was Randall. So who was Ryan? And why was the little girl clinging to him when she wouldn’t let Shelby touch her?

Shelby studied the man holding her niece. He was younger than the one who’d just stepped into the apartment, probably in his mid-to-late thirties. He obviously didn’t spend all his time behind a desk. His black T-shirt stretched taut across a well-defined chest, and as he held Chloe in his arms, his pose showed off impressive biceps. Clean-shaven with a buzz cut, he had the air of a military guy. Or maybe a cop.

He leveled serious brown eyes on Addy. “What’s going on?”

“Mia’s dead.”

His jaw dropped. “What? How?”

“Murdered. Throat slashed.”

The blood drained from his face and he sagged against the wall. His arms tightened around the child he held. “Has a decision been made about Chloe?”

“Not yet. The cops just took my statement. They told me not to go anywhere.”

He swallowed hard, his throat working with the action. “If they’ll allow it, she can come home with me until I can get legal custody.”

“Whoa, wait a minute.” Shelby held up both hands, trying to stop the runaway train she was trapped on. She’d just lost her sister. She wasn’t about to let a stranger walk away with her niece. “Who are you?”

His gaze swept her face. “I’m her uncle.”

The pieces were falling into place, but she didn’t like where they were landing. “Randall’s brother.”

A tightness flitted across his features, but was gone so quickly, she might have imagined it. He nodded then returned his attention to Addy. “It’ll be a while before they let us inside. I’ll go buy whatever Chloe might need for the next day or two.”

Shelby dropped her hands, curling them into fists. Randall wasn’t just Chloe’s good-for-nothing daddy. He also managed his father’s club, where Mia had worked. She’d said something shady was going on there, something that had made her fear for her life. Whatever Ryan’s involvement in his family’s businesses, Shelby wasn’t about to send Chloe home with him.

“I know what Mia would want.” Though soft, Addy’s words jarred her. “I was there when Chloe was born. I’m her godmother. Mia intended for me to raise her if anything happened.”

Shelby frowned. “A godmother isn’t a legal guardian.”

The handsome stranger lifted a brow. “And you are?”

“Shelby Adair. I’m Chloe’s aunt, Mia’s sister.”

“Ah.” His tone seemed to hold a lot of meaning. What was he getting at?

He nodded. “I can see the resemblance.”

She narrowed her eyes. He was trying to soften her so she’d let him take Chloe. But she was no pushover. And she wasn’t swayed by empty flattery.

Mia was beautiful. Shelby had heard it all her life—Lauren was the smart one and Mia was the pretty one. Apparently, Shelby was neither.

That was okay. What she lacked in beauty and brains, she’d always made up for in ambition. And determination.

She planted her hands on her hips. “Chloe’s going home with me.”

If Ryan McConnell thought otherwise, he was in for a fight.

* * *

Ryan tamped down the annoyance building inside him. As soon as the Navy had assigned him to Naval Base Kitsap, across the bay from his hometown of Seattle, he’d started prodding his brother to do the right thing. Mia had been six months pregnant then.

By the time Chloe was born, he’d given up. His younger brother never dealt with the consequences of his actions, so Ryan had resolved to be a fixture in his niece’s life from day one.

That was more than he could say for the woman in front of him.

“You’re Chloe’s aunt. Where do you live?”

“North Bend.”

“That close. As often as I’m here, our paths should have crossed.”

The determination on her face seemed to waver. He knew exactly who Shelby was. Mia had told him about her siblings, both of whom had pretty much severed ties with their younger sister. Now that Mia was gone, one of those sisters was on her doorstep, ready to take away his niece. Not in this lifetime.

He pressed a kiss to the top of Chloe’s head. “Let’s be frank. When was the last time you saw your niece?”

She lifted her chin. “Two weeks ago.”

“Your aunt’s funeral.” Mia had told him about that, too. “Before that?”

She looked away briefly, then jerked her gaze back to his. Keeping her eyes fixed on him seemed to require some effort. “That’s irrelevant.”

“I’d say it’s quite relevant. Chloe just lost her mother.” She might have even witnessed the murder.

He glanced at Addy, but she was staring past him, down the hall. The muscles in the side of her face tensed. She probably felt the same way about Chloe’s absentee aunt as he did. She brushed past him and mumbled, “Excuse me,” then stalked down the hall. At the end, she pulled open the door to the stairs and let it swing closed behind her.

Since he had Chloe, she was probably taking advantage of her first opportunity to be alone. She had to be reeling. He certainly was.

When he drew his gaze back to Shelby, she stood with her arms crossed. The determination was back full force. “Chloe needs care and love. Those are things I can provide.”

“She needs to be surrounded by people she knows, not taken away by a virtual stranger.”

She pursed her lips. At first glance, she was a toned-down, natural version of Mia. They had the same slope to their jaws and the same high cheekbones. Shelby’s shoulder-length hair was the same deep auburn shade as her sister’s, at least when Mia wasn’t wearing one of the multitude of wigs that were part of her showgirl persona.

But the similarities ended there. First was the age spread. Mia had said there were six-year spans between the three sisters. As the middle child, Shelby would be twenty-seven.

Next was their makeup. Mia dolled herself up almost as much for a trip to the grocery store as a shift at the club. If Shelby was wearing cosmetics at all, they were understated.

The biggest difference was in their eyes. Though the same golden green as Mia’s, Shelby’s held seriousness in their depths, even wisdom, as if her life experience exceeded her age. As if she’d been forced to grow up too quickly.

He sighed. “Why are you here?”

“Mia and Chloe and I had dinner plans.”

He lifted an eyebrow. He was supposed to believe that? “Dinner plans. Tonight.”

“Yes.”

“Why? You’ve hardly said boo to Mia since you left home.”

She narrowed her eyes. “My relationship with my sister isn’t the issue. All that matters is doing what’s best for her little girl.”

At least they agreed on something. “And that’s staying with me.”

She heaved a sigh. “Since we’re being frank, let me lay it out. I own a diner. I live in a small town where neighbors still say ‘hi’ to one another. My living quarters are upstairs from where I work. I can pop in anytime to check on Chloe. I’ll hire a good babysitter—preferably Addy, if she’s willing.”

Yeah, she’d be willing. She was crazy about Chloe. And Chloe was just as attached to her. Regardless of how Addy felt about him, her presence was good for Chloe. So Ryan would make sure she stayed on once he got custody. And he was going to get custody, whatever it took.

Shelby continued, “I’m not wealthy, but I can provide a good, wholesome environment. Besides the love I’ll give her, she’ll have the influences of my aunt’s church and our friends.”

“I can provide the same thing.” He’d even consider church attendance for Chloe’s sake.

Shelby lifted one arched brow. “Your family owns a bunch of gentlemen’s clubs. That’s hardly the environment for a little girl to grow up in.”

He clenched his teeth. The woman was judging him for his father’s activities after she’d had nothing to do with Chloe because she was too busy or too snooty or just plain didn’t care.

When he spoke, ice edged his tone. “I’m not my family.” At least not his father’s side. Instead, he’d been closer to his mother, especially after his parents divorced when he was seven. At age twelve, he’d found a father figure through his best friend. A recently retired military man, Kyle’s dad had adored his wife and made his children the center of his life. Ryan’s ideals had been on an increasingly separate path from his father’s ever since.

A detective holding a small notepad approached from inside the apartment. He glanced at them both, then focused on Ryan. “What is your relationship with Mia Adair?”

“I’m the baby’s uncle. My brother is the father.” At the detective’s request, he provided his contact information.

“How often did you see Mia?”

“Three or four times a week.”

“Where?”

“Here. I’d pick up Chloe and take her to the park and places.” He’d call Mia and let her know he was on the way. She was always fine with it. Except today she hadn’t answered. Since he’d already been in Seattle on another errand, he figured he’d give it a shot.

“Have you and Ms. Adair ever dated?”

“We’ve never been more than friends.” If not for Chloe, she wouldn’t have even been that. She was too shallow to be someone with whom he’d seek out a friendship.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt her?”

“No. I didn’t think she had enemies. She seemed to get along with everybody.”

At the end of the hall, the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Addy stepped off and approached. The detective gave her a brief glance, then continued his questions. Once finished, he turned to Shelby.

“What about you? What is your relationship with Ms. Adair?”

“Her sister.”

While he jotted her name, address and phone number in his pad, Ryan smoothed Chloe’s curls, so soft against his palm. She lifted her eyes to his. They were green with gold flecks, just like her mother’s. Like her aunt’s, too.

“Are you aware of anyone who’d have wanted to hurt her?”

Ryan watched Shelby’s gaze shift to him before going back to the detective. Uneasiness brushed the edges of his mind.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“The people who own and manage the club where she worked.”

Ryan’s jaw dropped. “Come on.” The objection slipped out before he could stop it. The woman would resort to anything to get Chloe.

The detective shot him a warning glance. “What club is that?”

“The Satin Cabaret.”

“Why do you believe her employers would want to hurt her?”

“She told me there was something shady going on at the club. She’d seen or heard something. She said if she stumbled on what it was, her life would be in danger.”

“When did she tell you this?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Did she say what she’d seen or heard?”

“No.”

“Could she have been talking about patrons rather than the owners?”

“Possibly, but that wasn’t the impression I got. Since she said something shady was going on at the club, I assume it’s something the owners are involved in. Or know about, anyway.”

He finished his notes, then looked up. “Anything else you can tell me?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Call if you think of anything.” He handed each of them a card with a case number. “Will one of you be taking the child, or shall I call DSHS?”

Shelby jumped in. “I’m taking her.” She looked at Addy. “Will you continue as Chloe’s nanny?”

Addy nodded. “I go wherever Chloe goes.”

“Good.” Shelby returned her attention to the detective. “I’ll file the necessary paperwork to make it legal. Based on what Mia told me, Chloe’s daddy is out of the picture. I’m expecting him to sign away his parental rights.”

Ryan held up a hand. “With all due respect, even though Ms. Adair is Chloe’s aunt, Chloe has seen her only a handful of times. She needs to be with people she knows, people who love her.”

Fire lit Shelby’s eyes. He wasn’t accusing her of not loving Chloe. But based on the glare he was getting, that was how she’d taken it. “His brother manages the club where my sister worked. His father owns it. These are the people my sister was afraid of.”

“According to you.”

Addy frowned. “Mia told me the same thing.”

“That has nothing to do with me.” Ryan struggled to keep his voice level. “I’m almost finished with twenty years in the Navy. I’ve never been involved in my family’s business.”

Shelby spread her arms, palms up. “We don’t even know that Randall McConnell’s name is on Chloe’s birth certificate. According to Mia, they’ve never been in a committed relationship.”

The detective closed his pad. “Until the courts can sort it out, it makes sense for the child to go with the deceased’s sister.”

Ryan sagged against the hallway wall. How was this happening? After he’d spent countless hours bonding with his niece, how could Chloe’s absentee aunt walk in and lay claim to her?

He’d let it go tonight. He’d lost the initial battle, but not the war. Shelby had said she was filing the necessary paperwork. He would, too. He’d fight her every step of the way.

His brother wasn’t going to be any help. The idiot had gotten himself arrested a week ago. It wasn’t the first time. He’d been able to beat the other charges or accept pleas for reduced sentences. Ryan had warned him—one more time and they’d put him under the jail. Randall hadn’t listened. This time he’d sold heroin to an undercover cop. He probably wouldn’t see freedom for the next fifteen years. Or longer.

This weekend, Ryan would visit and tell him about Mia. There wouldn’t be tears. Men didn’t cry, especially McConnell men. At least, that was what he and Randall had been taught from a young age. Over the past twenty years, Ryan had learned his father was wrong. Sometimes men did cry, even McConnell men.

He turned to Shelby. “Can we exchange phone numbers?” He kept the irritation from his tone. Alienating her further wouldn’t do them any good. “I’d like to stay in touch with my niece. I’ll also try to answer any questions you might have.”

After some hesitation, she removed her phone from her purse. “Give me your number.”

As he rattled off the digits, her thumbs flew over her screen. Moments later, his phone buzzed with an incoming text. Time to hand over his niece. He buried his face in her curly copper-colored hair. The faint scent of her shampoo, a combination of strawberries and bananas, wrapped around him. He kissed her again, then tried to untangle her arms from his neck. She tightened her hold.

“Sweetie, you need to go with Aunt Shelby.” The words tasted bitter. Shelby didn’t deserve that title.

Chloe’s eyes filled with tears. “No. Wyan.”

He injected false cheer into his voice. “Uncle Ryan will see you soon.” It was a promise he hoped he could keep.

Chloe began to cry in earnest. As he transferred her into Shelby’s waiting arms, the cries became full-blown wails.

His eyes met Shelby’s. Then he turned and strode toward the elevator. Chloe’s cries followed him, each one shredding his heart.

When he stepped outside, the lingering remnants of daylight had faded to night. He slid into his Equinox and let his head fall back against the seat. In a few minutes, a stranger would walk away with his niece. She’d never be what Chloe needed. When she couldn’t even be bothered to make an occasional visit, how would she make the sacrifices needed to raise an emotionally healthy child?

She wouldn’t.

He heaved a sigh. He should head back to his apartment, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Maybe he wanted to catch one more glimpse of his niece before Shelby took her away. Or if he sat there long enough, maybe he’d somehow make sense of the whole messed-up situation.

Addy walked from the building carrying Chloe. Shelby followed behind. She’d already passed off her parenting responsibility. He wasn’t surprised.

They walked to Addy’s Camaro, where Addy fastened Chloe into her car seat in the back. After a short exchange, Shelby walked toward her own vehicle. Her head was down, her shoulders slumped. Sadness wrapped around her like a cloak.

An unwelcome sense of compassion stirred inside him. He wanted to hate her, to view her as the enemy. But that picture wasn’t right. Because upstairs, in that final moment before he’d turned away, her eyes hadn’t held triumph. They’d held pain.

He reached for his keys, which were hanging in the ignition. Behind him, a vehicle roared down the short road that ran past the apartment complex. Someone was blowing right through the posted 25-mile-per-hour speed limit. As he turned the key, Shelby cast a sudden glance back at Addy. His own engine rumbled to life, blending with the roar of the other one. But there was something else, too—a pop, the sharp crack of a vehicle backfiring.

Or a gunshot.

A short distance away, Shelby dove between two cars. Ryan sprang from his vehicle at the same time Addy slipped into the Camaro and slammed the door behind her.

Now he had no doubt. What he’d heard was a gunshot. Had it come from the vehicle that had just sped past?

He dialed 911, then ran toward Addy’s car. First, he’d see to his niece’s safety. Then he’d check on Shelby. The dispatcher came on as he reached the Camaro. Addy was twisted sideways, her upper body lying over the console. Chloe was watching him from her car seat, apparently oblivious.

He spoke into the phone as he swung open the driver door. “There was a shot fired. A drive-by.” That was his assumption, anyway. Addy straightened, her eyes wide, and he lifted a brow at her. She nodded.

“What kind of vehicle?” He repeated to Addy the question he’d been asked.

“Four-door. Older. I don’t know what kind. It’s too dark.”

Shelby approached and stopped to stand next to him. He didn’t take time to acknowledge her presence.

“Color?”

“Dark. Maybe. It’s hard to tell.”

After he relayed the information to the dispatcher, he looked at Shelby. “Did you see anything?”

She shook her head. “I heard the engine rev, but when Addy screamed that someone had a gun, I dove for cover.”

He confirmed their location, then ended the call. The authorities investigating Mia’s murder were still there. So were the people from the medical examiner’s office. But other units would arrive shortly. In the meantime, everyone in the area would be alerted to be on the lookout for an older four-door...something. He heaved a sigh. They didn’t have much to go on.

Shelby crossed her arms in front of her, then ran her hands up and down her jacket sleeves. The temperature had dropped since the sun went down. A shudder ripped through her. “Why?”

Addy lifted one shoulder, then let it fall. “Whoever killed Mia probably thinks you know something.”

“But I don’t.”

“I know that. But they apparently don’t, because when I saw the arm come out the window, that gun was pointed at you.”

The last of the color drained from her face, and she started to teeter sideways.

Ryan grabbed her arm to steady her. “Whoa, easy.”

She tilted her head back, locking those gold-green eyes on him. The vulnerability he saw there punched him in the gut.

She’d neglected her niece, ignored her sister and fought him for Chloe.

But there was no way he’d leave her at the mercy of a ruthless killer.




TWO (#u42d5a1ac-c700-55f7-be5a-6a4566713b23)


Shelby pulled into a parking space at Safeway and killed the engine. The wiper blades came to a stop, forming two diagonal lines across her windshield. Outside, the usual Seattle-area drizzle fell from gray skies.

She reached for the door handle and drew her jacket’s hood over her head. A folded umbrella lay on the back passenger floorboard. Other than a few times when she’d held it over Aunt Bea’s head while walking her into the doctor’s office, Shelby couldn’t remember when she’d last opened it. Sporting an umbrella was a sure way to look like a tourist. Anyone who’d lived in the Pacific Northwest for long was used to the weeping clouds and had invested in at least one good rain jacket.

Before stepping from the Town Car, she scanned the area. She’d done the same thing driving in but hadn’t seen any threats. She didn’t see any now, either. No one lurking. No older, four-door cars.

She stepped from her vehicle and walked toward the store. She’d closed the diner at three. By the time she and her small staff had everything cleaned and prepped for tomorrow, it had been four. Now she was beat.

Last night had been rough. Every time she’d fallen into a sound sleep, she’d been jolted awake as one shock wave after another rippled through her. Mia was gone. It still didn’t seem possible.

She walked through the automatic glass doors and snagged a shopping cart. She’d made a list at lunchtime. Fortunately, the detectives had allowed Addy and her to go in and gather some belongings before they’d headed back to North Bend.

Chloe’s sleep seemed to have been as fitful as hers. Several times during the night, she’d awoken crying for her mother. Shelby’s heart had twisted with every pathetic plea. One part of her wanted to keep Mia’s memory alive. Another part hoped Chloe would forget quickly. When the memory faded, so would the pain.

Her ringtone sounded from her purse. She brought the cart to a halt and scrambled for her phone, her pulse in overdrive. Once she settled into the role of motherhood, maybe she wouldn’t fear that every call was an emergency, a problem with Chloe.

It wasn’t that she had her doubts about Addy as a caretaker. In fact, Addy hadn’t called once all day. And all four times Shelby had slipped upstairs to check on them, Addy had had everything under control.

Instead of Addy, Ryan McConnell showed up on her phone’s ID. After she’d gotten home last night, she’d pulled up the text she’d sent him and saved his information in her contacts.

She swiped the screen and said a curt hello.

“Hi, Shelby. It’s Ryan.”

He had a nice voice, rich and smooth. She hadn’t noticed last night. At first, she’d been too busy dodging his accusations and trying to keep him from taking her niece. Then she’d been too shaken about almost being shot. She still didn’t know whether it was a random drive-by shooting or if someone was targeting her. If the latter, the shooter hadn’t followed her away from Seattle. Ryan had made sure of that. He’d insisted on escorting them all the way to North Bend.

“How is Chloe?”

“Fine. Addy said she did well today, all things considered. I checked on her several times, too.” She wished she could say Chloe was starting to warm up to her, but she didn’t seem to want anyone except Addy.

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m off duty now and would love to stop by and see her, if that’s okay.”

Great. She hoped he wasn’t planning to have daily contact. Adjusting to motherhood was stressful enough without having critical eyes on her.

But after seeing them together yesterday evening, how could she refuse him contact with his niece? His love was almost palpable. Chloe obviously adored him, too.

She sighed. “I just arrived at the grocery store. Give me an hour.”

“I’ll see you in an hour and a half.”

She ended the call and dropped her phone back into her purse. Once she arrived home, she’d work on dinner and let Addy entertain their guest.

Actually, he didn’t need entertainment. He was there to play with his niece. But Shelby would have to invite him to stay for dinner. She couldn’t send a single guy away at mealtime without feeding him.

She assumed he was single, anyway. But she hadn’t looked for a wedding ring. Frankly, it didn’t matter. Maybe he was a nice guy under normal circumstances. She just hadn’t gotten to experience the relaxed, cordial side of him.

Whatever happened between them, they’d eventually have to settle into some kind of a mutual understanding. Like an annoying ex forever in her life because of a child between them, Ryan McConnell wasn’t going away.

Thirty minutes later, she hurried to her Town Car and loaded her groceries into the trunk. The silver Lincoln didn’t exactly say “single young lady,” but it had originally belonged to Aunt Bea. Although almost a decade old, it was in pristine condition. When her aunt had become too sick to drive, it had made more sense for Shelby to sell her high-mileage Corolla and keep the little-used Town Car.

Before reaching the building that housed the diner on North Bend Way, Shelby took a left, then turned into the alley that ran along the back. Addy’s Camaro was parked in one of the angled spaces opposite the stairs leading to the diner. Shelby pulled in next to her.

As she climbed from the car, a sense of uneasiness swept through her. She’d never given the seclusion a second thought. Now, hemmed in by the building on one side and railroad tracks and woods on the other, she felt suddenly vulnerable.

After retrieving her groceries from the trunk, she made her way up the wooden stairs, two plastic bags looped over each arm. When the diner was open, she used the interior stairwell off one side of the kitchen. After hours, the exterior entrance was more convenient.

She stepped under the awning covering the top landing and inserted her key. When she swung open the door, an older couple sat on the couch, Chloe in the woman’s lap. Addy occupied the love seat. All eyes went to Shelby, and conversation ceased. Whoever Addy’s guests were, they’d apparently parked in front or around the side of the building.

The woman spoke first. “You must be Mia’s sister.”

Shelby pushed the door shut with one hip. “I am. If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll be right with you.”

After plopping the bags on the kitchen counter, she fished through them and pulled out the perishables. Ice cream was her one guilty pleasure, and she wasn’t going to leave it melting on the counter.

When she’d finished with the cold items, she stopped at the hall tree next to the door and shed her coat, claiming the last of the four curved wooden hooks. Then she sat next to Addy and waited for someone to begin.

The woman wrapped one of Chloe’s hands in hers. “We’re Robert and Dorothy McConnell, Chloe’s grandparents.”

Shelby nodded. She’d expected as much. They both had that aura about them, the air that said their world spun on a different axis and only intersected with those of the common people when necessary. Robert McConnell’s suit obviously didn’t come from a discount store. Neither did his leather loafers. His wife was classic elegance in a charcoal pencil skirt and long-sleeved silk blouse. A Louis Vuitton handbag sat next to her.

Mrs. McConnell’s chin lifted, amplifying that air of superiority. “Chloe has spent a lot of time at our estate. She’s bonded with us. She has her own suite, a nanny, a complete wardrobe and every toy imaginable. She’ll go to the best private schools and have everything she could want or need. You could still come for visits when you can find the time.”

Shelby curled her fingers into her palms as fire flared inside. When you can find the time. They were looking down their proud noses at her, the same way Ryan had. In fact, Ryan had probably sent them to try to coerce her into giving his family, and ultimately him, custody.

It wouldn’t work.

“I’m going to raise Chloe. I spoke with a lawyer this morning who is preparing the paperwork.”

Mr. McConnell released a humorless laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. What does a single woman with a diner to run want with raising someone else’s child?”

“That child is my niece.”

Mrs. McConnell pulled Chloe against her. “And she’s our grandchild.”

“Why would you want to be tied down with a little one at your ages?” Shelby had no idea what those ages might be. Ryan’s dad had a little bit of middle-age spread but was still in decent shape. Based on the fine wrinkles around his eyes and mouth and the amount of gray in his hair, she would put him in his early-to-mid sixties.

His mom’s age was anybody’s guess. Smooth skin stretched taut over high cheekbones. Every trace of frown lines and crow’s-feet had been erased, likely before they’d had a chance to fully form. She’d had work done, probably more than once.

The woman straightened her spine, and her eyes flashed with indignation. “Because we love her and want what’s best for her.”

“What’s best for children doesn’t always involve money.” She’d already had this conversation with Ryan. Since he’d likely relayed every detail, there was no need to rehash it.

Mr. McConnell pushed himself to his feet. Now standing, he towered over her. “You’re going to regret this.”

His words had a hard edge. His gaze held the same haughtiness his wife’s had. But there was something else, something cold and cruel. A chill passed through her.

She straightened her shoulders and stood. If she was going to let Ryan or his father intimidate her, she should just hand over Chloe now. “Are you threatening me?”

He stepped closer, and she willed her feet to remain planted. He had her five-foot-seven height beat by a good six inches. But it wasn’t his size that made her long to retreat. His presence filled the room, and power radiated from him, brutal and deadly.

His eyes narrowed. “Just giving sound advice. Don’t engage in battles you can’t win.”

“I’m Chloe’s aunt. Your son’s name isn’t even on the birth certificate.” She hadn’t seen it, but she’d discussed it with Addy last night. Apparently, it was tucked into the folder of important papers in the bottom of Mia’s two-drawer file cabinet.

“Doesn’t matter.” Confidence underlined the words. “A simple paternity test will show that she’s our granddaughter.”

“I don’t need a paternity test to prove she’s my niece.”

“You don’t. But I doubt you have deep enough pockets to go up against one of the most powerful families in Seattle. You’ll have every bit of the equity in this little diner encumbered before you get to first base.”

“We’ll see.”

His gaze shifted to his wife. “Come on, Dorothy, let’s go.”

As she handed Chloe to Addy, Mrs. McConnell pressed her lips together, her jaw tight. Was it determination? Or did she disapprove of her husband’s strong-arm tactics?

Ryan’s father dragged her to her feet, then stalked toward the door, pulling her with him. His gait held more purpose than anger. After grabbing their coats and ushering his wife through the open door, he cast Shelby a final glance. “You’re willing to risk your diner. What about your life?”

Moments later, the door shut with a solid thud. Shelby rushed forward to throw the dead bolt, then stood with both hands on the wall, calming her churning thoughts.

“You did the right thing.”

Shelby spun and lifted a hand to her chest, her heart pounding beneath her palm. Addy stood in front of her, still holding Chloe. Shelby hadn’t heard her rise, let alone cross the room.

Addy’s gaze dipped. “You’re shaking.”

Yeah, she was shaking. She’d had her life threatened twice over the course of twenty-four hours. But fear wasn’t all she had tumbling through her. If she never saw a McConnell again, life would be good. When Ryan had been unable to use his relationship with Chloe to sway her, he’d sent his parents to play the wealth card, then make threats.

She dropped her hand and moved into the kitchen. She had groceries to put away. And dinner to make. Maybe she’d have a bowl of ice cream, enough to cool the fire still simmering inside.

After putting away the groceries, she skipped the ice cream and started dinner. In the next room, Addy read one of the children’s books they’d brought from Mia’s last night, her low voice a backdrop to the sounds of meal preparation. Shelby was half finished when a soft knock sounded on the door.

Ryan. She’d said he could come. That was before he’d gotten his parents involved. Now she had no problem with sending him back home.

As she stepped from the kitchen, Addy was watching her, eyes filled with questions.

“Ryan called me while I was at Safeway.”

Addy furrowed her brow. “You’re not letting him in, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

When she swung open the door, Ryan stood on the landing, holding a small plush teddy bear and flashing her a smile warm enough to melt the polar ice caps.

It didn’t faze her. “Keep your gifts. As long as I’m alive, no McConnell is going to raise my niece.”

The smile fell from his face. A second later, she slammed the door with a boom that reverberated through the apartment.

Addy gave her a sharp nod. “Ryan’s a good-looking guy. He has a way with women. But you can’t trust him. The fact that he wants Chloe makes him our enemy.”

Shelby pursed her lips and headed for the kitchen. Soon, the adrenaline that had pumped through her system dissipated, leaving her more zapped.

At least she didn’t have to cook for Ryan. Once dinner was over, she could chill. Maybe put on a movie, something she could lose herself in.

No, she was an aunt now, and this was her first opportunity to begin bonding with her niece. How did one connect with a fifteen-month-old? She had no clue. When Lauren had left home and Shelby became responsible for Mia’s care, Mia had been six. Six-year-olds played dolls, dress-up, games, make-believe. Fifteen-month-olds did none of that.

Ryan would know what to do with her. He had the job of uncle down pat. He also wanted to protect them. He’d proved that last night. Having him coming around on a regular basis would provide a wonderful sense of security.

But Addy was right. Ryan was their enemy. And she’d best remember that.

Chivalrous acts, good looks and warm smiles aside.

* * *

Ryan stared at the closed door, feeling as if he’d been beamed into the twilight zone. He’d just spoken with her a little over an hour ago. How could things have gone that far south so quickly?

He raised a fist to knock again, then lowered his hand. Whatever had happened, she wasn’t going to be any more receptive now than she’d been a few seconds ago.

He headed back down the stairs, reviewing their phone conversation. He’d asked if he could visit Chloe, and aside from a soft sigh, Shelby hadn’t voiced any objections.

Why would she tell him he could come, then turn him away after he’d driven all the way from the base in Bremerton? Not just turn him away, but slam the door in his face, as if he’d done something to offend her.

Mia had enjoyed creating drama. He’d never been on the receiving end of her outbursts, but he’d witnessed several temper tantrums involving other people. Maybe it was a family trait.

Based on their brief interactions, that wasn’t how he would have pegged Shelby. Of course, he’d been wrong about people before. Especially women. Sometimes a pretty face could make a man’s brain disengage. Though he liked to think otherwise, he probably wasn’t any more immune than the next guy.

He cranked the Equinox and backed from the space. Now what?

He’d proceed the same as before and work on getting custody. Maybe not sole custody, but at least joint. His chances would be as good as hers.

Except his family was likely under investigation for Chloe’s mother’s murder. That would be a huge strike against him. His best option was still playing nice with Shelby. But how was he supposed to do that when she wouldn’t even talk to him?

He headed down Bendigo toward the interstate. That had been a wasted trip. The last thing he’d expected was being turned away at the door. Her words still rang in his ears—no McConnell is ever going to raise my niece.

Since his brother was in jail, Ryan was the only McConnell in line for custody. Unless...

His jaw sagged. His father had paid Shelby a visit. He was sure of it. Mia had mentioned bringing Chloe to visit his father and stepmother at their estate. Maybe there would be two other players in the custody battle.

Now Shelby’s reaction made sense. Unless his old man had changed a lot in the past twenty years, he didn’t play nice with anybody.

Ryan floored the accelerator, and the Equinox sped up the I-90 ramp. His only shot at talking to his father would be overtaking him before he reached the estate. Wrought iron wrapped the entire grounds, with an electronic gate guarding the long, curved drive. It was a gate that would never open for him. His father had made that clear when Ryan had announced his intentions to join the Navy instead of working in the family business.

Authorities had investigated the McConnell empire several times over the years, trying to find a connection to the Mafia. There wasn’t any. Robert McConnell led a homegrown organized-crime outfit. And he was smart enough to always cover his tracks. That had been the case when Ryan lived at home and, based on what he’d read over the past twenty years, was still the case.

Ryan clicked on his signal and slid the SUV between two cars traveling in the far-left lane. At the tail end of rush hour, the crush of traffic was beginning to lessen, which would make catching up with his father easier.

He didn’t even know what the man drove. Ryan hadn’t seen him since he’d walked away twenty years ago. His father had pulled out every weapon in his arsenal to convince Ryan to stay. First, he’d used the promise of wealth and power. Then guilt. Then came the threats. Ryan had known enough about his father’s business to be afraid. For months afterward, he’d looked over his shoulder, half convinced that someday the world would read about him in the news, the victim of an unsolved murder or apparent suicide.

Instead of acting on those threats, the old man had severed that father-son relationship. Even in the almost two-year time span since Ryan returned to the area, their paths hadn’t crossed. Ryan made frequent trips into Seattle, but in a city with a population of more than seven hundred thousand, it was easy to avoid one another.

By the time he exited I-90, he hadn’t approached any vehicles likely to contain his father. Visibility wasn’t great. It was only six thirty, but the sun had set some time ago. Daylight saving time was still a few days away. Whatever the man was driving, it would be flashy and new. And expensive. He’d always appreciated nice things and enjoyed displaying them for others.

Several minutes later, Ryan made a left onto Lake Washington Boulevard. A vehicle traveled some distance ahead of him—something sleek and low to the ground, based on the taillight configuration.

He stepped on the gas and drew closer. It was a yellow Lamborghini Aventador. A ride fit for his father’s tastes.

He held back through two more turns. When the vehicle’s brake lights lit up again, Ryan tightened his hands on the wheel. His family’s estate was just ahead. The signal clicked on, and Ryan backed off a little more. No sense alerting his father yet.

The sports car turned, and the wrought-iron gate a short distance off the road swung open slowly. Ryan didn’t execute his own turn until the Lamborghini had almost cleared it. Then he stomped on the accelerator again, barely making it through before the gate closed.

The Lamborghini’s brake lights came on, and it jerked to a halt. Seconds ticked past. His father didn’t move. He’d probably already alerted security. And he was likely retrieving his own weapon. He didn’t go anywhere unarmed.

Soon headlights moved toward them from the direction of the house. The oncoming vehicle stopped, and one of his father’s security people exited, weapon drawn.

Ryan stepped from the Equinox, hands raised to show he was unarmed. “I’m Ryan McConnell.” The man wouldn’t shoot without a directive. And if the senior McConnell wanted him dead, it would have happened a long time ago. “I’m here to talk to my father.”

Ryan continued forward, his gait slow and even, his demeanor nonthreatening. The man stood stiff and alert, weapon aimed at Ryan’s chest. A tense silence pressed down on them, holding back the faraway sounds of traffic and an even more distant lone siren. Above, the sky had deepened to dark charcoal, dotted with the occasional star. There was no moon.

Ryan stopped next to the Lamborghini, hands still raised. The headlights of the security vehicle washed through the windshield, bathing his father in their glow. He wasn’t alone. Ryan’s stepmother sat in the passenger seat.

His father reached for the handle, and Ryan stepped back as the driver’s door opened. The older man swung out his legs, then unfolded to his full height. His hair had gone from dark to gray, with a smattering of brown, and time had forged a few more lines into his face. Judging from the coldness in his eyes, he still made a formidable foe.

The older man’s jaw tightened. “Get off my property.”

“We need to talk.”

“You made your choice twenty years ago. I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then listen.”

His father crossed his arms. He’d either left his weapon in the car or had it hidden beneath his jacket. But his eyes held the same animosity they’d held two decades earlier. Back then, disappointment had tempered it. Now that disappointment was gone, and all that remained was hatred.

“You’ve got one minute.” Ice laced his tone.

“Fine. I get it that Chloe’s your granddaughter. I’ll even accept that you’ve gotten attached to her. But Shelby is her aunt, and you’re not going to take Chloe away from her.” Because if Shelby lost the battle, he would, too.

“Boy, you’re sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“What happens to Chloe is my business. She’s my niece.” And he’d do anything in his power to make sure Robert McConnell didn’t raise her. It was one thing he and Shelby agreed on.

His father’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve said your piece. Now get off my property.”

Ryan moved a step closer. “Stay away from Shelby, or I’ll have her file a restraining order against you.”

“Don’t threaten me, boy.”

“I’m not your boy.”

The man’s lips curled back in a sneer. “You’re right. I only have one son.”

“And he’s locked up for the next decade or two. Enjoy that relationship.”

The older man flinched, almost imperceptibly. Ryan had struck where it hurt—his father’s only failures. Two sons, each a massive disappointment, for opposite reasons.

In elementary school, Ryan had looked up to the man with little-boy innocence. By the time he’d reached junior high, that innocence was gone. His father had begun to groom him, teaching him what it meant to be a McConnell. He’d taken Ryan to his clubs in Vegas, Reno, Portland and LA and walked him through in the morning hours, before the employees and any of the girls arrived. In the silence and stillness, a heavy air had hung over the empty establishments—dark and dangerous, but intriguing.

Ryan had also observed some meetings. The adults had talked in code, the phrases tough and mysterious, their meanings too obscure for his young brain to interpret. But one word always stood out. Every one of those intimidating men called his father “boss,” a title that would one day be his.

The power was heady. But another influence pulled him in the opposite direction—Kyle’s family. His father forbade the friendship, but his mother encouraged it. So weekends with his mom usually included time with the Gordons. In the end, Kyle’s father won the battle for his future. The man was nothing that his own father was. And everything he was not.

Ryan spun and walked back to the Equinox, ultra-aware of the pistol locked on his back. When he climbed into his vehicle and shut the door, a tense breath escaped. The hedges on each side of the drive kept him from turning around easily, but after executing a seven-or nine-point turn, he headed back toward the gate. It swung open in front of him. Seconds later, he pulled onto the road and accelerated, the engine revving as he left his childhood home behind.

Chloe’s custody should be an open-and-shut case. Shelby was the obvious choice. Or he was. Or both of them. But he couldn’t say for sure that every judge in the district was beyond accepting bribes. If there was one that could be bought, his father would find a way to make sure he got the case.

But that wasn’t all that weighed on him. He knew what his father was capable of. He just wasn’t sure how far he was willing to go to get what he wanted this time.

Ryan was the man’s flesh and blood. His father couldn’t order the trigger pulled, or pull it himself, without some agonizing.

Shelby didn’t have that advantage. Neither had the others who had crossed his father over the years. Men whose bodies had ended up in a back alley, or the Sammamish River, or locked in their own vehicles with a bullet through the head. Others had simply disappeared. There was never any evidence pointing to Robert McConnell. He was too good. Too careful.

But Ryan knew it. And law enforcement knew it.

Like those before her, Shelby was an unwanted obstacle. His father’s other victims would have recognized their mistakes and known the danger they were in.

Shelby didn’t. And seeing the fierce protectiveness in her eyes when she’d insisted she was taking Chloe, she wouldn’t give up the fight even if she did.

That left Ryan with one option. He needed to warn her, to convince her he was on her side. To do that, he was going to have to get her to hear him out. She already didn’t trust him, so it wouldn’t be easy.

In fact, now that his father had paid her a visit, it was going to be nearly impossible.




THREE (#u42d5a1ac-c700-55f7-be5a-6a4566713b23)


Shelby sat at her desk, a stack of cash in front of her. Music blared through the diner, a 1980s tune. The girls insisted they could get through cleanup faster with peppy music. Today it was Jeri’s turn to pick what played, so she’d brought in a Def Leppard CD. Not Shelby’s first choice, but as long as the work was getting done, she could listen to anything.

She tore a deposit slip from the pad and laid it next to the stack of cash. After transferring the currency and coin figures from the Post-It onto the correct lines, she stuffed everything into the zippered bag and locked it in the safe. Tomorrow morning, she’d slip out and make the bank run.

When she exited the office, Jeri was mopping the diner floor in time to “Bringin’ On the Heartbreak.” Tessa and Pam were apparently working in the kitchen.

Shelby stepped through the swinging metal doors, and Tessa looked up from the cast-iron griddle she was curing. An easy smile climbed up her cheeks. That wasn’t unusual. Whatever the task, Tessa radiated cheer.

Hiring her to fill the position of assistant manager three months ago had been one of the best decisions Shelby had made. With Tessa in charge, everything seemed to run as smoothly in Shelby’s absence as when she was there. Though Shelby hadn’t gone on a real vacation in years, several situations recently had taken her away from the diner for the day.

Two weeks ago, it was Aunt Bea’s funeral. This week, it was meeting with a child-custody lawyer and planning yet another funeral. Saturday, she would leave Tessa in charge again while she said her final goodbye to Mia. In the coming months, there were going to be more obligations—checkups for Chloe, lawyer appointments, court hearings, interviews with Child Services.

Meanwhile, she’d dig up all the dirt she could find on the McConnells. Addy had already given her Randall’s history. He’d been in and out of trouble and finally gotten caught dealing heroin. According to Addy, Robert was just as bad, was maybe even Mafia. Shelby hoped Addy had exaggerated that part because of her obvious dislike for both Ryan and his brother.

Shelby didn’t know much about Ryan. Addy had only said he was a ladies’ man and couldn’t be trusted. But her gut told her he wasn’t like his father and brother. Maybe it was the seriousness in his eyes. Or the fact that he’d spent the past twenty years serving his country. Or the way he carried himself, with pride and honor.

But he was a McConnell, and she didn’t trust him any more than she trusted the others.

The jangling of the phone blended with the blare of guitars pouring from the CD player. Shelby hit Pause before slipping behind the counter to take the call. They were technically closed—they had been for more than a half hour—but she’d have to take care of the caller eventually. Why not now?

She lifted the receiver from the cradle on the back wall and put it to her ear. “Aunt Bea’s Diner.”

“Shelby?”

She’d spoken with Ryan a grand total of three times, but she recognized his smooth, rich voice instantly. She lowered the phone. Before she could place it back on the hook, pleading words reached her.

“Please, don’t hang up.” The desperation in his tone drew her up short.

She brought the receiver back to her ear. “All right.” She’d let him have his say. Then she’d hang up on him.

“I couldn’t figure out what happened last night.” He was talking fast, words tumbling out. “My dad paid you a visit, didn’t he?”

She rolled her eyes. “And you knew nothing about it.”

“No, I didn’t. I knew Mia visited them regularly, but I had no idea they’d try to take custody of Chloe. We can’t let that happen, Shelby. We don’t want my dad raising our niece.”

The conviction in his tone sent uneasiness spiking through her. “What do you suggest?”

“That we file for joint custody.”

She pursed her lips. The whole thing could be a con. Maybe he was manipulating her, trying to make her feel they were on the same side so she’d let down her guard.

“How do I know you’re not working with your parents?”

“You don’t. You’ll have to trust me.”

Yeah, right. “And if I don’t?”

“My father will win. Neither of us have the means to fight him alone. We need to work together.”

She closed her eyes. If only Aunt Bea was still alive. She’d been Shelby’s sounding board more than once. She’d possessed quiet strength and infinite wisdom, both of which she’d attributed to her relationship with God. Shelby had never found that kind of faith, but she’d always admired what she’d seen in Aunt Bea.

“I paid my father a visit last night.” His words cut into her thoughts. “We hadn’t spoken in twenty years.”

What? And Ryan was critical of her for not staying in contact with Mia. “You live an hour apart.”

“I’m the oldest child. My dad planned for me to work with him, to eventually take over his clubs. I wanted nothing to do with them. When I joined the Navy, he disowned me. The only way I got to speak with him last night was by following him onto his property before the electronic gate could close. His security person had a pistol aimed at me the whole time.”

She lifted her eyebrows. She wasn’t about to trust him, but what he was saying was too unbelievable to make up.

“My father is a dangerous man, Shelby.” Urgency slipped into his voice. “Whether he’s behind Mia’s murder or not, the fact that you’re fighting him for custody of Chloe puts your life in danger.”

She closed her eyes and slouched against the counter. She’d always avoided trouble and minded her own business. How could this be happening?

She liked to think she was a good judge of character. But people like the McConnells were way out of her league.

Ryan had said to trust him. For now, it looked like she had no choice. “What do we do?”

“We come up with an arrangement we can agree on, then present a united front.”

Jeri wheeled the mop bucket to the far side of the floor to finish the last ten-foot strip. The lack of music didn’t seem to be slowing her down. As soon as Shelby finished with Ryan, she’d take the player off Pause and check Pam’s progress in the kitchen. In another fifteen minutes, they should all be out of there.

“How would the joint custody work?” she asked.

“Maybe you have her one week, I have her the next, with visitation in between.”

“That might work.” Shelby would do whatever was best for her niece. If that meant sharing her with Ryan, so be it. Once the little girl started kindergarten, he’d have to be content with weekends. Or move to the same school district.

Whatever they worked out, Addy would be Chloe’s constant. She’d already said that where Chloe went, she went.

Last night, the three of them had watched a movie after all—Disney’s Frozen. Addy had thrown several children’s DVDs in with Chloe’s other items. While the movie played, Addy had held Chloe, and Shelby had sat next to them. Several times, Chloe had let Shelby take her hand. Baby steps.

“Did you want to try that visit again?” If what he said was true, she almost felt bad for turning him away.

“If you didn’t offer, I was going to ask.” The relief in his tone was obvious. “I’ll head over when I get off duty. It’ll be around the same time as last night.” He paused. “Thank you, Shelby.”

Warmth swelled inside. She didn’t have Aunt Bea’s connection to the Almighty, but her gut said she’d made the right decision.

As she finished the call, Tessa walked out of the kitchen and began positioning chairs where the floor had dried. Shelby hung up the phone and released the pause button. “Bringin’ On the Heartbreak” resumed, the blast of sound jarring after the relative silence.

When she poked her head into the kitchen, everything looked good. The dishwashers were on their dry cycles and Pam was spraying disinfectant on the work surfaces. Shelby helped her staff finish the chores, then ejected the CD. Muffled screams came from upstairs.

Tessa gave Shelby a sympathetic smile. “Your niece isn’t a happy camper.”

“Addy will get her settled down.” She always did. It wasn’t that Shelby didn’t want to soothe the little girl’s troubles, Chloe just wouldn’t let her. Someday.

She handed the CD to Jeri and followed the women to the door. After locking it behind them, she clicked off the lights. As she ascended the stairs, the wails grew louder.

An hour ago, Chloe had been fine. Addy had popped down to show her off to the staff and the last straggling customers. When Addy had asked, Shelby had told her they were working on closing and she’d be up in an hour. Either the nap Addy had planned for Chloe hadn’t happened, or Chloe had awoken too early.

At the top of the stairs, Shelby opened the door and stepped into the hall. The screams came from the living room. When she rounded the corner, her knees went weak. The coffee table was flipped on its side. Aunt Bea’s Tiffany lamp was lying in front of the end table, colorful pieces of glass scattered across the hardwood floor.

Shelby rushed into the room, her heart pounding. Addy sat on the floor, holding a screaming Chloe. Next to them was a ring of keys with a pink tube that looked a lot like a pepper spray canister. Twenty feet away, the exterior door was wide open.

Shelby dropped to her knees in front of Addy. “What happened?”

“He tried to take Chloe.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” Hysteria raised her voice an octave. “He wanted to know where Mia’s phone was. He hit me.”

Shelby rose and ran onto the landing. The alley below was empty. The assailant had likely crossed the railroad tracks and disappeared into the woods.

After locking the door, she returned to where Addy sat and took her screaming niece. “Have you called the police?”

“No.”

“Do it now.” They could sort out what happened once law enforcement arrived.

Addy rose and walked into the kitchen while Shelby paced the floor with Chloe. The little girl wasn’t any more distraught than she’d been when Addy had held her, but she wasn’t calming down, either.

Shelby rubbed Chloe’s back, making slow circles. “Shh, sweetie. It’s okay. Aunt Shelby’s got you.”

When pacing didn’t work, she sank onto the love seat. As she rocked back and forth, the little girl’s wails quieted to sobs, each ragged breath shaking her body. Chloe slipped her thumb into her mouth and pressed the side of her face against Shelby’s chest. Shelby held her more tightly, a sense of protectiveness surging through her. Her niece had been with her less than forty-eight hours, and she’d already planted herself deep in Shelby’s heart.

Addy returned and sat on the couch, dropping her phone next to her. “The police are on the way.”

Shelby nodded. “What happened? How did this person get in?”

“He knocked on the door. I thought it was you.”

“When I’m coming from the diner, I use the inside stairs.” But Addy wouldn’t know that. Yesterday Shelby had gone shopping after closing and used the other door.

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know.” She pressed shaking fingers to her face. Her right cheek was red and starting to swell. “He was wearing a ski mask.”

“What did he say?”

“He demanded—”

Addy’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. She frowned and picked it up. For the next several seconds, her thumbs slid over the screen. Then she laid it facedown on the couch.

“Who was that?” Maybe it was none of her business. But she wasn’t leaving any questions unanswered.

“A friend. We were talking about doing something tonight, but I told him this is a bad time.”

Sirens sounded in the distance, increasing in volume. Shelby continued to rub Chloe’s back. Except for an occasional hiccup, she was silent and still.

“What did the guy with the mask say?”

“He wanted Mia’s phone.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there was something on it. I told him I didn’t have it. Then he hit me.”

“Where was Chloe?” Based on how upset she’d been, she’d probably witnessed the entire thing.

“On the couch. I had trouble getting her to go down for her nap, so I was reading to her. When I couldn’t give him the phone, he tried to take Chloe.”

The sirens grew louder, one apparently coming from the back. When they died, Addy moved to the door. The responding officer would get the rest of the details. Meanwhile, if Chloe was ready for a nap, Shelby would put her in bed, then round up something to eat.

Addy opened the door and called a greeting. The thudding of heavy footfalls on the steps followed. When Shelby rose, Chloe’s thumb remained in her mouth, her other arm hanging limp at her side. Shelby walked into the bedroom that Chloe and Addy shared.

It wasn’t the ideal setup. Chloe needed her own space. But the apartment only had two bedrooms. When Addy had insisted on setting up the Pack ’N Play in the guest bedroom, Shelby hadn’t argued. If Chloe awoke in the middle of the night frightened, she’d feel more secure knowing Addy was with her.

Shelby stopped next to the portable playpen and bent over the side rail to lay Chloe in the bottom. Her eyes opened for a moment before falling closed again, and her mouth moved in a sucking motion. After picking up the stuffed seal from the bottom of the playpen, Shelby slid it under Chloe’s arm, then positioned the lightweight baby blanket over her.

For several moments, she stood watching her niece sleep. Brownish-red curls fell across Chloe’s face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth relaxed around the thumb. She was so young and innocent.

And Shelby was responsible for her well-being—mental, physical and emotional. Never in her life had she felt so inadequate.

She drew in a stabilizing breath and moved toward the door. A framed picture sat atop the chest of drawers. She’d asked the detectives if she could take it. Since it had been in Chloe’s room, which was untouched, they’d given her permission. It was a picture of Mia holding Chloe. Had Mia felt inadequate, too?

Shelby touched a finger to the glass. As always, Mia was beautiful. She couldn’t take a bad picture if she tried. But upon a closer look, her makeup was a little too heavy, her smile a little too fake and her eyes a little too empty.

Shaking off a sudden sense of melancholy, Shelby stepped into the hall. When she returned to the living room, Addy was sitting on the love seat, relaying what had happened. Dave Jenkins was on the sofa adjacent to her in his crisp dark uniform. In his midfifties and single, he was one of the officers who frequented Aunt Bea’s.

He stopped writing and ran his fingers through his thinning hair, making some of the shorter strands on top stand up. Shelby gave him a nod and headed toward the kitchen. As she passed the door, a soft knock sounded. Ryan was almost twenty minutes earlier than he’d estimated.

When she opened the door, it wasn’t Ryan who stood there. The man was younger, closer to her age, with blond hair on the long side and a day’s worth of stubble. Ryan had him beat by only an inch or two, but probably outweighed him by fifty pounds.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“Is Addy here?”

Shelby cast a glance at Addy. She didn’t look happy. Her eyes were narrowed, her mouth tight. “I told you not to come.”

The stranger stepped inside. “I was worried. I had to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

Her curt tone didn’t deter him. Neither did Dave, with his badge. “Your face is red. You’re hurt.”

Addy had referred to him as a friend, but that wasn’t how he was looking at her.

“I told you I’m fine.” Her tone held a solid dose of annoyance. Unlike Mia, Addy apparently didn’t like to be fussed over. Unfortunately, her friend seemed the type to do just that. Creases of worry framed his frown.

Addy turned her attention back to Dave, ignoring her unwanted visitor. “I don’t know what’s on Mia’s cell phone. This incident is probably related to her murder. I’m guessing there are incriminating pictures. If they’re erased from her phone, you should look for a Google account or somewhere else she might have stored photos on the cloud.”

As she talked, her friend made no attempt to leave. Shelby wasn’t going to throw him out. Once Dave left, Addy could do as she pleased. The guy seemed harmless. He stood silently against the wall, watching Addy with puppy-dog eyes. As if there was no one else in the room.

A pang of jealousy shot through Shelby, unwanted and irrational. She turned and walked into the kitchen. She didn’t want anyone to look at her that way. At least not now. Her life was in too much turmoil. The few guys she’d dated had expected to be the center of her universe. She hadn’t had the time or patience for that level of possessiveness then, and she certainly didn’t now.

She pulled the pack of ground beef from the fridge and laid an onion on the counter. Busy was okay. It was that sense of not being in control that was unsettling. The moment she’d learned of Mia’s murder, her world had slanted sideways. It still hadn’t righted itself.

She placed a skillet on the stove, then tore into the cellophane covering the beef. Eventually, she’d settle into a routine. Instead of her and Aunt Bea, her family unit would consist of her and Chloe. And Addy. Ryan would probably join them on holidays.

She didn’t know about her mom and dad. They’d left Seattle for Arizona two years ago, tired of the city, the winters and the rain. They hadn’t made it back for a visit yet. Shelby had hoped the sunshine would lift her mom’s spirits. Based on Shelby’s monthly phone calls, it hadn’t.

While the beef simmered, she diced the onion, relieved that Ryan was on his way. She’d always felt safe in North Bend. But Ryan’s warnings about his father had scared her more than she wanted to admit. And the attack on Addy had sent her uneasiness skyrocketing.

Was the senior McConnell responsible? He was determined to get Chloe. He’d made that clear yesterday. But why would he resort to kidnapping when they hadn’t even begun the legal process?

Maybe there was more to it than that. If Robert McConnell was the one who’d had Mia killed, maybe he sent one of his thugs to get her phone, and when Addy didn’t produce it, the guy tried to come up with a bargaining chip—the kid for the phone. Maybe the two events weren’t even connected. What if Mia had more than one enemy?





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