Dangerous Relations

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

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

Dangerous Relations

Carol J. Post

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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“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,

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

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

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.”