Dangerous Relations

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

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.