Dangerous Relations

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.