Читать книгу Dangerous Relations - Carol J. Post - Страница 15

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.