The Quiet Vengeance of a Protector Who Refused to Let Two Children Cry
He simply escorted her through the door and into the holding area.
Then she saw Ryker.
She froze, her high heels clicking to a sudden stop on the polished terrazzo floor.
She slowly slid her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose.
“Ryker Steel,” she said, her voice losing some of its screeching volume.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“You abandoned them,” Ryker said.
His voice was quiet, but it filled the empty space between them like lead.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said, lifting her chin.
“I left the children with their nanny.”
“She was supposed to meet me at the gate.”
“If she failed to show up, that is a matter for her employment agency, not the police.”
I stepped forward, unable to remain silent.
“We found them alone by the baggage claim, Eleanor,” I said.
“Lily was freezing.”
“Owen was terrified.”
“They had been sitting there for hours.”
Eleanor glanced at me, her eyes cold and dismissive.
“And who are you?” she asked.
“A secretary?”
“A glorified babysitter?”
“You have no right to speak to me.”