The Ramseys Boxed Set

by Altonya Washington

  ***

  “Who are you?” Mick asked as she stared at the photo she’d downloaded from Harriet Forman’s e-mailed message later that week. The knock on her office door went unanswered for quite some time before she set aside the photo. “Yeah?” she called.

  Driggers stuck his head past the doorway. “How are you?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she flopped back on her lavender office chair. Her expression tightened when Driggers simply folded his arms across the moss-colored cotton tee he sported. “Considering I’m breaking the heart of the man I love,” she admitted.

  “Doesn’t have to be that way,” Driggers said as he stepped into the room.

  “Yes it does.”

  Driggers shrugged. “Because?”

  “Because he’s talking about turning his back on his family for me!” She shoved back her office chair when she stood. “I can’t let him do that.”

  “Are you sure that-”

  “I’m positive,” she used both hands to push curls out of her eyes. “It’s an intense situation, an intense family, but they’re all he has.”

  “He has you. At least he thought he did,” Driggers’ gaze was firm and unwavering.

  Mick rolled her eyes. “Family’s supposed to be forever, Drig. He can always find another woman to love.”

  Driggers’ smile was slow and knowing. “I guess you’d be alright with that, huh?”

  Mick shoved her hands inside the front pocket of her red, hooded sweatshirt. “I’ve made up my mind.”

  Driggers stood. “Baby, I just don’t want you to wind up alone in this world,” he stepped forward to pull her hands from the pockets. “You have a chance for love and a family of your own.”

  Mick laid her palms flat against Drigger’s chest. “I’ll never be alone as long as I have you.”

  “But I won’t be here forever, love,” Driggers said, taking both her hands into one of his.

  The tone of the statement triggered a tiny furrow in Michaela’s brow. “Is this your way of telling me you’ve found a better job?”

  Driggers chuckled. “I love you,” he pulled her close.

  “I love you too,” she closed her eyes to savor the hug. She pressed a loud kiss to his bearded cheek and tightened her arms about his waist.

  The phone rang, intruding on the moment. Mick kept Driggers close. “Is there something you’re not saying? Seriously?” she probed.

  He patted her cheek. “Answer your phone.”

  Mick captured his hand again. “Drig, you’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

  He kissed her forehead. “You know me. Now answer your phone,” he tugged on one of her curls and left the room.

  Mick stared at Driggers until the door closed behind him. Slowly, she turned to see to the phone call.

  “Michaela Sellars?” a woman’s voice inquired.

  “This is she,” Mick greeted, forcing airy politeness into her voice.

  “Ms. Sellars, I’m Dena Ramsey. We didn’t have a chance to meet when you visited my family in Seattle.”

  “Ms. Ramsey,” Mick said, already intrigued. “It’s nice to be speaking with you.”

  “My father, Houston Ramsey told me about your visit. I live in North Carolina and don’t get the chance to travel out to Seattle very often,” Dena explained.

  Mick nodded. “I understand.”

  “Anyway,” Dena cleared her throat, “you’re investigating Sera’s murder.”

  Mick perched on the edge of her desk. “So you don’t believe it was suicide?”

  “Sera was my best friend. She was an only child and I had no sisters. We were very close. She wouldn’t have taken her own life. I’m willing to stake my life on it.”

  “Did she talk to you about going to the party that weekend?” Mick asked, reaching for the pad she kept next to the phone.

  “Our family reunion was that week. We have one every year. It was understood she’d be my guest to all the festivities. I don’t know how she wound up at the damned party.”

  Mick nodded while jotting down the information. “So, this party wasn’t part of the reunion?”

  “Please,” Dena hissed, “That was Quay’s idea. He wanted to start a tradition for the younger set. He organized that party for the Ramsey men only with a select few of their closest friends in attendance.”

  “How many made up this select few?” Mick asked.

  “There were probably about fifteen guys at the party. I only know that because they left the family barbeque to go to the hotel. After all this was over, I found out that there were at least three girls to every guy in that suite.”

  “I see,” Mick whispered, chewing her bottom lip as she wrote the numbers 15 and 3 on the pad and drew a circle around each.

  Dena sighed. “So, when will you be returning to Seattle?”

  Mick set the pad down and began to massage the tense area that had suddenly formed at the base of her neck. She didn’t want to consider such a trip in light of where things stood between she and Quest. Of course, that would be inevitable as she had investigating and research that would surely demand another visit.

  “I’m not sure of my plans yet,” she said finally.

  “Well then, I’d like to invite you to the party we’re organizing. It’s time for another Ramsey reunion. It’ll be a perfect occasion to put names to faces. This marks forty years of reunions. Family will be in town for weeks,” Dena predicted.

  “Mmm...I appreciate that, but it really is a family thing and I shouldn’t intrude,” Mick decided.

  “Michaela, a reunion is a time for family and friends. You are most certainly a friend if you’re trying to find out what really happened to Sera.”

  Mick told herself that it was quite possible that the man Harriet Forman had circled in the photograph could be there. Besides, she missed Quest so much…

  “Michaela?” Dena called. “Can we count on seeing you?”

  Mick nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  ~~~

  Catrina Ramsey’s lovely almond-brown eyes harbored concern as she watched her son staring fixedly at the pool in her backyard. She managed a brief smile when she was pulled back into a firm embrace.

  “I’m worried about him, Damon.”

  “He’ll be alright,” Damon Ramsey told his wife, though he was far more interested in nibbling at the soft skin below her ear.

  “He said she wouldn’t make him choose between her and his family. That’s what he said. That’s all he’d say,” Catrina worried. “What do you think it means?”

  Damon chuckled. “It means just what he said,” he favored his wife’s other ear with soft, delectable nips.

  “But why would she feel he’d have to do that?”

  “Whatever it is, it’s between them. They’ll figure it out.”

  Catrina rolled her eyes. “I can’t stand not knowing. I hate seeing my baby this way.”

  Damon propped his chin against her shoulder. “He’s not a baby, Trina.”

  “But if there’s something we can do-”

  “He’s a grown man.”

  “Talk to him, Damon.”

  “Trina-”

  “Please baby,” she turned to nuzzle the base of her husband’s throat. “Please,” she whispered, trailing her mouth across his collarbone..

  Damon’s hands smoothed across the silky fabric of Catrina’s azure blouse and he uttered a frustrated growl. He knew he could refuse his wife nothing when she put her persuasive powers in full gear. Muttering a low curse, he pulled away and headed out to the pool.

  Catrina fixed her husband with an adoring smile. She turned back toward the window as concern clouded her face once again.

  ~~~

  “Q,” Damon Ramsey called, approaching his son.

  Quest just managed a smile. “Hey Dad,” he hugged the man after they shared a hearty handshake.

  “Your mama’s worried,” Damon announced.

  Quest nodded. “I’m alright.”

  “I f
igured as much, but Trina won’t go for it. What else can you tell me?”

  Quest debated telling his father the entire story. He didn’t want another foul scene to erupt in the family’s long line of upsets, but he realized he just didn’t care anymore. He’d just let himself and Mick drift out of each other’s lives for a third time. Helping to prevent further unrest in the family was the least of his concerns.

  “Michaela overheard a conversation I had with uncle Marc.”

  Damon’s onyx gaze narrowed with murderous intensity. “Marcus,” he breathed, then rolled his eyes and turned to wave toward Catrina who still watched from the bay windows in the sunroom.

  Quest continued the story once his mother joined him and his father out on the deck.

  “Baby, you know we’d never put you through anything like that,” Catrina swore, while Damon stood cursing his brother. “I can’t speak for the rest of your father’s foolish family but you know we love you and Quay regardless.”

  “I know Ma,” Quest whispered, figuring he’d come there to his parent’s home because he needed the reassurance. He graced his mother with a dimpled smile but the sadness returned to his haunting gaze. “That’s not the issue though. Michaela can’t stand thinking that she’s the cause for tension between me and any member of my family.”

  “But baby, she can’t control that,” Catrina pressed her hands to the front of Quest’s brownstone knit jersey. “There always has been and always will be some sort of craziness going on between one or more members of this family.”

  Quest rubbed a hand across the hair tapered at his nape. “I know that,” he groaned, a well of frustration swelling inside his chest. “But you don’t know Mick. Family or the lack thereof, has put her in some very bad places with some very bad people. I can’t get her to look past it. She thinks there’s nothing more important than the love of my family. Nothing’s more important. Not even her love.”

  “To hell with this,” Damon muttered, pulling keys from the pocket of his twill driftwood trousers and storming off the deck.

  “They can never be friends for long,” Quest noted in a wry tone.

  “Please,” Catrina groaned with a wave of her hand. “Marc knew better. My guess is he’s somewhere now hoping to avoid your father,” she smiled when Quest began to laugh. “Now tell me,” she fixed him with a stern look. “Do you love this girl?”

  Quest’s expression was serious at once. “She has all of my heart.”

  The simple, genuine reply sent Catrina nodding. “Of that I have no doubt. That’s why-” she sighed, digging around in the front pocket of her jeans, “I want to give you something I’ve been carrying around for a while now.”

  Quest’s brows rose when he saw the small exquisitely crafted emerald ring in his mother’s palm.

  “This was my mother’s,” Catrina said, “I decided to give it to the first one of my son’s who lost his heart.” She rested her hand against Quest’s cheek. “I know love when I see it and I’ve seen the change in you these last few months. Love like this can take years to craft and you found it in a surprisingly short time. Maybe it’s because you finally recognized what you needed.” She paused to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “Anyway, I know you won’t let Michaela go. You simply need to formulate a new plan. This is for your future wife when you’re ready to put that plan into action,” she folded the ring into Quest’s palm and laughed when he pulled her into a smothering hug.

  Quest kissed the top of his mother’s bouncy, silver-gray hair. Silently, he vowed he would have another chance with Mick and this time he’d be playing for keeps.

  ***

  After her phone conversation with Dena Ramsey, Mick left to spend another week in Georgia. She had to see if anyone there recognized the man Harriet Forman had circled in the news photo. There were no new leads and she left Savannah feeling as though she’d completely wasted her time. Now, as she took the steps to Houston and Daphne Ramsey’s glorious home, she prayed for a break, or better yet a familiar face at the family gathering.

  “Michaela!” Dena Ramsey called, rushing forward with outstretched arms. “So glad you could make it,” she pulled Mick into a close hug.

  “Dena?” Mick inquired, hearing the woman laugh.

  “I’m sorry, yes, Dena Ramsey,” she introduced herself and stepped back. “My father told me to look for a lady with a head full of gorgeous black Shirley Temple curls.”

  Mick threw back her head to laugh. “I haven’t heard that description in a long time!”

  “Let’s get you introduced,” Dena hooked a hand through the crook of Mick’s arm as they strolled the majestic foyer.

  Houston’s and Daphne’s home was as elegant as they were. Each room seemed to have waltzed right off the pages of an interior designer’s portfolio. Every room housed an elaborate chandelier, there was gorgeous carpeting throughout the house and every flower arrangement was housed in a gleaming brass pot. Classical jazz arrangements sifted through the built-in speakers in every room. Michaela couldn’t believe how hospitable the group was. She’d expected them to be at least a little reserved. Sure enough, the good feelings came to an end when she was introduced to Marcus Ramsey.

  “I don’t think anyone here has time to be cross-examined for your investigation, Ms. Sellars,” were the man’s first words to Michaela.

  Though she didn’t have his height advantage, Mick did an exemplary job of looking down her nose at the man. “Well then, I suggest you direct your complaint toward your niece here. She was the one who invited me.”

  Marc blinked as though surprised by her frigid comeback. He recovered quickly and fixed Dena with the same disdainful look. “Your father would have a fit if he knew she was here.”

  “I doubt that,” Dena wore a cold smile. “Especially since he was the one who told me how to find Michaela and seemed quite pleased when I talked about asking her to come out,” she hugged her thin frame and rocked a bit to the music coloring the background.

  “What’s he thinking?” Marcus breathed as though speaking to himself. His attention quickly redirected itself to Michaela. “You shouldn’t be here. I think you know that. I’m sure you’ll understand if I ask you to leave.”

  “That’s enough, Marc.”

  The small group turned toward the tall, dark man who had spoken. He stopped right next to Mick an extended his hand.

  “Hello Michaela, I’m Damon Ramsey, Quest’s father,” he covered her hand in both of his.

  Mick blinked, words failing her as she studied Damon. It was clear to see where his sons had acquired their sinful good looks. “So nice to meet you,” she managed finally.

  Damon patted her hand. “I hope you’ll accept my apologies for my brother.”

  Mick acknowledged Marcus with barely a glance. “I’ve handled far worse, I can assure you.”

  “Ha!” Damon bellowed, revealing a striking double-dimpled grin. “I see why my son loves you so. We’ll speak more later,” he leaned close to plant a kiss to her forehead. The warmth of his expression vanished however, when he turned to his brother. “We need to speak. Right now.”

  Mick was intrigued by the exchange, wishing she could be a fly on the wall. Marc was clearly reluctant to follow his brother and she could tell it wouldn’t be a pretty scene. Before her thoughts could get too far ahead, she caught sight of Quest across the room. Her heart flew to her throat and her tummy did all sorts of crazy flips while her knees turned to water. She commanded them to continue to support her.

  She loved his man! Fierce emotion filled her amber stare as she watched him laugh and mingle across the room. A chestnut sport coat molded to the incredible breadth of his shoulders while matching trousers accentuated the length of his strong legs. Quest Ramsey had become her world and she had scarcely realized that his presence in her life was so very important. Where he was concerned, she was selfish-undeniably so. She yearned for the love he offered. Every day she dreamed of the happiness she could find with him. So what if his fa
mily had a problem with it. So what? He was hers. He held every bit of her heart as completely as she held every bit of his. Family be damned.

  ~~~

  Damon maintained his cool even after he closed the den door behind himself and his older brother. “I’ve been waiting to talk to you for weeks. You been avoiding me?” he approached the man on easy steps.

  Marcus merely pursed his lips and pushed his hands into the pockets of his pin-striped slacks.

  Damon positioned his index finger a few inches in front of the man’s nose. “Approach my son or the woman he loves with this crap of yours once more, Marc, and I’ll take great pleasure in making you sorry.”

  Marcus tried to remain composed, but his lips trembled. “Threats, Damon?”

  “Damn right.”

  “You got some nerve,” Marcus seethed, maintaining his stance. “Do you understand how dangerous it would be to have someone nosing around our family affairs?”

  “Marc, if someone had nosed around our family affairs a long time ago, maybe the family would be in a far better state of mind than it is now.”

  Marcus rubbed a hand across his bald head and chuckled. “Damon, please. Don’t you stand there and act like we’re different people. You’ve done the same thing to protect your sons. Have you forgotten how far you went during the ugliness of Sera Black’s death? Not to mention all those strange happenings before? Quay’s girlfriends always seemed to come up missing- all except Sera of course. You never really questioned him about all that, did you?” Marcus asked, his deep-set gaze sparkling with devilish curiosity. “Maybe you never wanted to know,” he shrugged. “As you say, no need to live in fear of the past.”

  Damon shook his head, while fiddling with his gray and tan silk tie. “I won’t deny that I’ve done things to protect my kids and I’d probably do them again, but none of this has anything to do with Michaela Sellars.”