The Ramseys Boxed Set

by Altonya Washington

  Folding her arms across her scoop-necked mauve top, County fixed Jenean with a pointed look. “What’s so odd about that?”

  “As hostesses.”

  “That is odd,” Jenean noted.

  “Indeed,” County confirmed, one because these were former strippers. Though it wasn’t always the case, stripping and prostitution often went hand in hand. Therefore ‘hostess’ was a job title with many connotations.

  “What would a travel agency need with hostesses?” County mused.

  “You want us to stay on it?” Spivey asked after they’d sat in silence a little over two minutes.

  County however was in another world. Her gaze was steady and determined, but clearly she was focused on something or someone else.

  “County? Contessa…?”

  “I’m sorry?” County blinked, focusing on Spivey and Jenean. Clearing her throat, she nodded. “Stay on it,” she instructed, offering a wavering smile when they stood and left her office.

  Alone, County chewed her thumbnail and debated. She could only think of Fernando and their weekend together- all their weekends together. Their time had been so sweet. Now she questioned the intelligence of digging into his business. What if this- she and Fernando- was something to last? Would her actions come back to haunt her? She was falling for him. Falling? Ha! She’d fallen- hard, fast and quite willingly. He was absolutely the last kind of man she ever envisioned losing her heart to. He was far from a pushover, not in the least intimidated by her strength or accomplishments, he wouldn’t let her push him away with some weak reason. In essence, he was her equal and she was his. Now she was betraying him…

  “Dammit!” she hissed, with a shake of her head. She was making too much of this. She decided then that there was no harm in digging a little deeper, if for no other reason than to satisfy her own curiosity. Alright County, if that helps you sleep tonight.

  The phone buzzed and she welcomed the interruption. “Yeah, Monica?”

  “Stefan Lyons for you County.”

  “Lyons?” She parrotted, not recognizing the name her assistant gave.

  “Of Dark Squires Communications,” Monica added.

  “Ahh…” County sighed, scratching the arch of her brow as realization set in. “Send him through, Mon,” she said, finding herself eager to hear what this next pitch would entail.

  “Ms. Warren, Stefan Lyons, co-founder of Dark Squires.”

  “Mr. Lyons, I’m both pleased and flattered to be speaking with the top man.”

  Stefan chuckled on his end. “I always consider it a necessity to speak with potential clients who break down my best salesmen.”

  “Mmm, again I’m flattered. And you have wonderful salesmen, but I have no desire or intention to sell my House.”

  “Clearly,” Stef replied, his voice losing a trace of its lightness. “Still, I’m hoping to work this out. Surely, there must be some improvements we could make to the deal that would be more encouraging to you?”

  “There are no improvements, Mr. Lyons. My mind is made up, my decision is final.”

  “You don’t seem to understand what Dark Squires can offer.”

  “And you don’t seem to understand that you’re wasting your time.”

  “You’re a small house, we can make you bigger and better.”

  “Bigger perhaps,” County conceded with a smirk. “Better, I seriously doubt.”

  Finally Stef expelled a muttered curse. “You’re a fool.”

  “Excuse me-”

  “Excuse me,” Stef countered, “what I should’ve said is ‘you’re a woman’.”

  “You-”

  “Clearly, you’re ruled by your emotions. A sentimental need to hold onto your baby. A real businessman would want his baby to grow and become a challenge in this industry.”

  County’s lashes fluttered, she was so riled. “Clearly, business is your strong suit, Mr. Lyons. I’m willing to bet you’ve got no real experience in publishing. Creative thinking, passion and emotion are just as important. If not more so.”

  “You’re letting a once in a lifetime opportunity slip right through your fingers.”

  “I truly doubt that,” County sneered, sitting on the corner of her desk and enjoying the chance to run down the pompous businessman on the other end of the line.

  “You huge conglomerates are a dime a dozen. Another will be sniffing ‘round my doorstep before the close of business today. You bastards zero in and swoop down on independents like vultures. Still, in defense of the others, I’m sure they don’t resort to bullying and name calling when the owners are content on not selling.”

  “Ms. Warren-”

  “Call me again with this bull, write me a letter or dammit send me an e-mail that even hints about selling and you’ll find the good name of Dark Squires Communications looking like it just took a good roll in shit. And I don’t threaten. I guarantee.”

  Stef actually jumped when the phone slammed down in his ear. His jaw clenched tight in anger and he could do no more than ball his fists and pray for calm.

  ~~~

  “Finally getting around to that box, eh?” Kathy Hughes teased her boss when she came to get his signature on a few documents.

  Fernando laughed. “I couldn’t stand it taking up space in that corner for another week,” he admitted, casting a forlorn look towards that area of his office.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to your fun once I get you to sign these requisitions.”

  “Thanks Kath,” Fernando said as he applied the last signature. Alone in his office, he groaned and shuffled through a few more papers. He’d been at it little over an hour and nothing had struck him as off. Not one thing. That could mean only two things: Marcus had covered his tracks very well or there was nothing to find. Fernando was willing to bet it was more of the former.

  In truth, he wasn’t waiting on pins and needles to find something to destroy Marc. After all, the man was his father. But Josephine was his mother and he’d seen Marc wear her down to a shell during the sentence of her marriage to him. Then there was Yohan and Melina and Houston’s murder of Sera Black…

  “Come on, man,” he urged, running all then fingers through his close brown curls and attempting to focus.

  Besides, the box and all its contents had to be returned by the end of the month. He’d scoured his father’s office thoroughly following his banishment from Ramsey Enterprises. The board was now trying to decide whether his absence would be permanent or if there was still a place for him in the family business. Meanwhile, Marc was handling his affairs from either home or the private office he kept in downtown Seattle.

  Idly now, Fernando rifled through more papers until something caught his eye. “What’s this?” he murmured, his long brows drawing close. Then a smile curved his mouth when he discovered the document was an e-mail from his father’s ‘sent’ file.

  “I’ll be damned,” Fernando sighed, leaning back in his desk chair. He recalled a conversation where he’d chided Marc for printing copies and reminded the man that was what a ‘sent’ file was for.

  Marc coolly replied that systems break down and files could be lost or corrupted. A hard copy is forever, he said. Fernando remembered chalking it up to the fact that his dad just didn’t trust anything or anyone. That too, Marc had confessed.

  Now, Fernando celebrated his father’s suspicious nature. The page he held appeared quite interesting. It was a request from Marcus to his business attorney Shawn Givens. Marc was asking the man to get the ball rolling on a transfer of ownership for The Wind Rage. Simple enough, but it left Fernando with two questions. What was The Wind Rage and why was his father requesting that its ownership be transferred to him? His first inclination was to dial Shawn Givens, but that wouldn’t be wise, he decided. Then, he had a better thought and dialed a different number.

  His eyes crinkled in their usual manner when he smiled at the sound of his mother’s voice.

  “This is quite a surprise!” Josephine cried, delighted to hear from
her middle son.

  “You act like I never call,” Fernando said, actually a little upset by the thought.

  “Oh you,” Josephine sighed over the line. “You know it’s a rarity for you to call me in the middle of the day like this.”

  Fernando pressed a hand to the center of his chest. “Are you deliberately tryin’ to make me feel like a low-down son?”

  Josephine laughed. “Not low-down, just one who should call more.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And in light of that, I should ask when we’ll see each other again?”

  “I’ll come over tonight.”

  “Tonight? You mean you aren’t taking another trip?”

  Fernando grinned. “Not tonight, Ma.”

  “That’s right,” Josephine whispered as though she were just realizing. “These trips usually take place over the weekends.”

  “Ma…” Fernando groaned, knowing where her probes were headed.

  “Dare I suggest that these are weekend...getaways?”

  “Would you believe it’s business?”

  “Not in a million years. What’s her name?”

  Fernando debated, stroking his jaw as he hesitated on answering. “Mick’s friend. Contessa Warren,” he revealed finally.

  “Ahh...the publisher.”

  “That’s right and Ma please don’t lecture me, alright?”

  “Lecture you about what? I think the girl has spunk like Mick and Ty...and Mel.”

  Fernando was silent, hearing the sadness in his mother’s voice when she spoke of his brother Yohan’s estranged wife.

  “The family needs more women like that. Not fools who let themselves get run over by conniving bastards.”

  Knowing exactly who his mother meant, Fernando cleared his throat and decided it was the perfect time to introduce the reason for his call. “Ma, what can you tell me about The Wind Rage? You ever hear Pop mention it?”

  “What? His boat?”

  “Boat?”

  Josephine muttered something inaudible. “Excuse me, ship,” she clarified. “Your father always got on me for referring to that thing as a boat.”

  “Well um, what sort of ship is it?” Fernando asked, his brows draw close in expectation.

  “I don’t really know, baby. I always thought it was some cargo ship for Ramsey. I’d never seen it, only heard about it.”

  “When did Pop buy it.”

  “About seven years after we were married, I guess,” Josephine said, a twinge of disgust coloring her words, “he didn’t own it outright, just went in with about four friends. Sweetie, why are you so interested in this?”

  “Because it’s mine,” Fernando shared without hesitation.

  “Yours?” Josephine gasped.

  “Mmm,” Fernando confirmed, a smirk souring his handsome features. “For the life of me, I can’t see why he’d hand somethin’ like that over to me.”

  “Must be going bankrupt because that’s the only reason that fool would give anything away. What’d he say when he gave it to you?”

  Fernando shook his head. “He didn’t tell me about it. I found out on my own.”

  “Honey what’s going on?”

  Reaching for the e-mail, Fernando’s translucent brown gaze held no trace of its usual warmth. “I don’t know Ma, but I’m damn well gonna find out.”

  ***

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were stopping by?” Mick laughed, while pulling her mother-in-law into a hug. “I would’ve started lunch if I’d known.”

  “Please,” Catrina said with a wave, “you know I wouldn’t hear of it. I’ve been meaning to stop by and check on you for a while now.”

  “Well, I’m fine,” Mick said as they strolled out of the foyer, arms linked around one another’s waists. “What’ll you have?” she called, once they entered the living room and she headed toward the bar.

  “That looks good,” Catrina noted, referring to the tall glass of apple juice Mick was preparing. “Make it two,” she requested.

  “You got it,” Mick said.

  “So...is everything really alright?” Catrina asked, after watching her daughter-in-law for a while.

  Mick crossed the room, carrying the apple juice and wearing a knowing smile on her round, dark face. “Did Quest ask you to come over here?”

  “Quest?” Catrina parroted from her relaxed position on the sofa. “I told you I’d been planning to visit for quite some time.”

  “Mmm…” Mick replied, sipping on her juice and fixing Catrina with a stern look.

  The woman broke finally. “He’s very concerned, honey.”

  “You can tell your son that I’m fine,” Mick requested in a pouting manner.

  “You can tell him that,” Catrina watched the juice swirl amidst the ice cubes inside her glass. “I want you to tell me the truth.”

  “Catrina-”

  “The truth,” she insisted, setting the glass aside and leaned forward. “Whatever it is, it stays between the two of us.”

  Setting aside her glass as well, Mick braced her elbows to her knees. “I want this baby so much,” she pushed back her unruly curls. “I want to be a great mother, a great role model.”

  A frown tugged at Catrina’s arched brows. “Sweetie, of course you’ll be those things.”

  “Then why am I scared to death that I won’t be?” Mick allowed the fear to shine in her amber gaze.

  “Oh…” Catrina soothed, moving close to hold Mick as she cried. “It’s alright, it’s alright…” she chanted, knowing the younger woman’s cry was long overdue.

  “Please don’t tell Quest,” Mick begged once her tears were spent. “He’s so on edge because of me. He jumps every time I stand up.”

  Catrina laughed. “Sweetie, he’s just a nervous, expectant father.”

  “Which is why he sent you,” Mick noted, searching Catrina’s eyes for any trace of denial. “Alright then,” she slapped her hands to the cotton fabric of her sky blue sweats, “lay it on me. Tell me I’m overreacting, that this is all expectant mother stuff.”

  Catrina smiled and made a little room between herself and Mick. “Your fears are perfectly understandable,” she acknowledged, stroking Mick’s curls in a reassuring way. “Baby, your life hasn’t been easy. The things you’ve been through...of course, you’d feel this way.”

  “Then how will I know what’s best for it? How will I know what to do?” she asked, swallowing down more sobs.

  Catrina fixed her with a sympathetic albeit amused smile. “Sweetie, I hate to tell you this. But, the sad truth is that you won’t really know a damn thing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Now, now,” Catrina soothed, patting Mick’s damp cheek. “It’s the same with every parent regardless of their upbringing. But there is one thing you can count on and if you put your trust in that, the rest will fall into place.”

  “What?” Mick blurted, her eyes widening with hope and expectation. “Catrina what?” she clasped her hands to her chest.

  “What’s in here,” Catrina asked, pressing Michaela’s hands closer to her chest. “Trust in the love you feel for this tiny man or woman. Love your child. Trust your instincts,” she said, tapping Mick’s chin with her index finger. “You’ve got wonderful instincts and ethics and they’re all yours not your mother’s. So stop being so hard on yourself, alright?”

  Mick’s shoulders slumped as though she’d been relieved of some tremendous weight. Love her child? She did- so much and she hadn’t even met him or her yet. Trust her instincts? She knew she’d give her life to protect its own.

  “That really is all I need to know,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

  Catrina laughed. “Well, what are you doing now?” she called, watching Mick race to the phone and begin dialing furiously.

  “I’m calling Quest! We’ve got a doctor’s appointment to keep!”

  ***

  “Pay dirt!” Spivey announced when he burst into Contessa’s office late that afternoon.

/>   “Aw Spivey, can’t it wait?” County whined, massaging her tired eyes as she spoke. “It’s been a very long day.”

  “Not a chance. I found out where the dancers are working.”

  County rolled her eyes. “I thought we knew that already? This travel agency.”

  “Mmm hmm,” Spivey perched on the edge of his boss’s desk. “The agency hired the girls as hostesses for a cruise ship.”

  Slightly intrigued, County remained silent and waited for her editor to continue.

  “My contact got this on good authority from one of the secretary’s at the agency.”

  “Are you sure you can trust this guy?”

  A grin broke on Spivey’s handsome vanilla-toned face. “For the money I’m payin’ him, I’m sure of it.”

  “Hmph,” County shrugged, relief filling her at the discovery that there wasn’t more to the story. “Well, I’m sorry you hit a dead end, but we’ve spent long enough on this and we’ve got more than enough to move on.”

  “But County wait, I haven’t reached a dead end,” Spivey waved a hand as he rounded the desk. “This isn’t just some fun in the sun cruise ship. It’s some sort of gentlemen-only thing.”

  The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach warned Contessa that she wouldn’t care for the rest of Spivey’s report. “Why would it-uh-need to be a gentlemen only ship?” she inquired cautiously.

  Spivey’s expression was one of sheer cunning. “Baby, if we knew the answer to that, I believe we could blow some big names out of the water. All we have so far, is that gambling’s involved. Beyond that, no idea,” he clasped his hands while he shrugged beneath his olive green pin-striped suit.

  “Beyond that…” County sighed, massaging the sudden tension tightening her neck. “Gambling and possibly prostitution on the high seas? What more could a guy want?”

  “How ‘bout the name of one of the ship’s owners?” Spivey watched County’s eyes narrow. “Fernando Ramsey,” he said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT