Dangerous Relations

“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.”