The Ramseys Boxed Set

by Altonya Washington

  “Don’t play with me County,” he warned, encircling her body in his steely embrace. “Now, is definitely not the time to say things to me you don’t mean.”

  “I don’t want you to let me go,” she reiterated, searching his face with her luminous stare. “I want this. I want us.”

  “When can I see you?” he restated his earlier question.

  “Anytime.” County replied without hesitation.

  The adorable eye-crinkling grin appeared. “When can I be with you again?”

  County curved her arms about his neck and grazed her teeth across his earlobe. “Now,” she whispered, laughing when Fernando lifted her in his arms and carried her back to bed.

  This Ends A Lover’s Mask

  And Now:

  A Lover’s Regret

  A LOVER’S REGRET

  THE RAMSEYS BOOK IV

  PROLOGUE

  Seattle, Washington

  You’re a coward. A true coward and you know it!

  Melina Ramsey shivered and rubbed her hands together. She shook from head to toe: freezing, in spite of the fact that the heat was going full blast in her hotel suite. It was the beginning of spring; or at least it was supposed to be, according to the calendars.

  The actual weather system seemed to have other ideas, Mel thought as she stared out over the evening skies. The lovely skyline was just starting to twinkle with lights from the scrapers lining it.

  “Coward,” Mel hissed at herself for the tenth time that evening.

  Sadly, she didn’t see what other choice she could take in resolving the matter before her. There was no way she could have this discussion at his office. Even discussing the subject over a restaurant meal wouldn’t suffice. Too many people would just have to stop by their table and chat.

  Even their beautiful, spacious, secluded home in Woodway was the wrong setting for the conversation. Mel knew the moment she told a quarter of her story, he’d stop her. Hell, she didn’t even want to talk about the truth. Clearly, it would be just as difficult to hear-perhaps more so.

  Besides, Yohan Ramsey knew his father adored him. Though the feeling wasn’t reciprocated on his part, Yohan greatly disliked hearing his wife speak about Marcus Ramsey in the negative.

  So, Mel resolved, smoothing her hands across the black sweater she wore over an empire wasted floral embroidered top. This was her last resort-a hotel room. It was spacious, but not nearly as much as their home. He’d have to listen, right?

  True, he could storm out, Mel reasoned with a weary sigh. Still, she was confident he’d not do that. He’d never leave her there alone. No matter how ugly the conversation turned, Yohan would remain the gentleman. He wouldn’t abandon the conversation and leave her in a downtown hotel regardless of how capable she was of handling herself.

  “This will work,” Mel assured herself and flexed her fingers as she paced the living area. When her unease still pulsed, she drew all ten fingers through her short, glossy bush of jet black hair which framed her exquisite dark face like a hovering cloud.

  The conversation had to be successful. It had to be-for living a charade; pretending the horror she’d witnessed had been a dream, had become unbearable. Yohan knew she was hiding something and with each passing day he grew more impatient to know what that something was.

  Mel had to tell him and let the chips fall where they would. She cast a quick glance upon her wristwatch. Any moment he’d be arriving. She left the letter on his keyboard when she went to his office at Ramsey Acquisitions where he worked directly with Marcus. Brenda Weaver, his assistant, told her that he’d only stepped out for a staff meeting. Mel, of course, had no desire to speak with him there and silently celebrated his absence. She left enough in her one page note to pique his curiosity regarding the situation she’d hidden far too many years-a ‘situation’ that could be silenced no longer.

  “Come on, Han,” she whispered, using the pet name she’d given her husband shortly after they began dating. Those days seemed like a millennia ago. Mel often wondered if the relationship that began so sweetly during their college years would ever have flourished if she’d known who his father was.

  The firm knocking on the room door gave her a start. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to prepare herself. Then, with an inviting smile on her face she raced to the door. Flinging it open, she expected to greet her husband but her face froze in its expression as she looked into her father-in-law’s cold black stare.

  Melina backed away instinctively, like a deer that could sense its demise. She detested even being in the same room with Marc let alone face to face with him.

  Yohan isn’t coming. He doesn’t even know that you’re here, Mel told herself, grateful she hadn’t revealed more in the note to her husband. But then, Marc knew her secret-he knew all too well.

  “I expected more from you,” he softly, menacingly remarked, closing the door yet remaining just inside the entryway. “Although I did wonder when and how you’d choose to turn my son against me,” he added.

  Mel smirked, her slanting ebony gaze fiery with hate. “I don’t have to do anything to make that happen. Yohan will see who you really are sooner or later.”

  “Why are you here?” Marc demanded, as though he hadn’t heard her.

  “Clearly you know,” Mel retorted, folding her arms beneath her breasts, “either you have the letter with you or you destroyed it after reading what was meant for Yohan only.”

  Marc strolled forward and Melina maintained her stance. “Before you deliver the threat you came here with, you should know that I’m not afraid of you,” she sneered, her eyes narrowing almost to the point of closing. “I’m not going to live in fear like I’m the one, who did something so evil,” she promised, coolly moving away to put more distance between them. “It was cowardly to leave that note-I admit it. But it’s a mistake I intend to correct,” she went on, “Yohan will know he has the devil for a father and he’ll know tonight.”

  “Mel,” Marc sighed, his sinfully handsome features softening in a phony show of sweetness. “I don’t want you afraid of me, love. But it’s obvious that my son is the only one on your mind and that’s a mistake.”

  Melina couldn’t speak, though her suspicious frown was explanation enough. Marcus was satisfied that he had her full attention and began to stroll the hotel suite like he hadn’t a care.

  “There’ve already been tragedies, no need for more,” he elaborated finally.

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “I’m not.”

  Mel shook her head once. “Surely you’re not threatening to hurt Yohan?”

  Marc rolled his eyes. “Absurd,” he sneered, and turned to face her with both hands hidden in the pockets of his sandalwood trousers. “One young woman’s life ended all too soon, Melina. If I were you, I’d think about that before running off to your husband in some foolish attempt to turn him against me.”

  Mel’s frown remained in place. Now, it was one of confusion instead of suspicion as she watched Marc leave as coolly as he’d arrived. “Too hell with this,” she hissed and waved her hand in the air. She was more frustrated with herself than Marc then. How could she continue to allow him to rile her after all these years? She’d hidden this for so long and it was ruining her marriage anyway. It’s time for that jackass to sweat a little, she decided, thinking of the smug expression her father in law always paraded.

  She went to retrieve her purse from the message desk and almost jumped from her skin when the phone rang.

  “Who else knows I’m here?” she muttered, letting the phone on the desk ring once more before she answered. “Melina Ramsey,” she greeted.

  “Hey girl.”

  “Jo?” Mel whispered, stunned to hear her cousin’s voice come through the line.

  “Yes?” Johari Frazier drawled as though she’d expected a more substantial greeting. “Everything alright?” she asked.

  “Um…yeah, yes. Everything’s-everything,” Mel replied, forcing a light quality into h
er voice. “I’m just dreading a conversation I’m about to have with Yohan,” she confessed.

  “Well I won’t keep you. So what did you need me to remind you of? I hope you remember, ‘cause I didn’t have a clue what you meant.”

  Mel was already searching her purse for car keys. “I didn’t need you to remind me of anything,” she said in an absent tone as her key search produced no results.

  Johari chuckled. “Then why was there a message on my service that it was imperative that I contact you at this number and that I needed to remind you of something?”

  Mel was only confused a second longer. Then, she was freezing more than ever and fell to her knees right there in the middle of the floor.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Seattle, Washington- Eight years later

  Yohan Ramsey muttered a savage curse and took a step closer to the punching bag he’d massacred. Long sleek brows drew close above deepest set dark eyes as he studied the rigid tear in the bag. Third one he’d ruined that month, he noted, shaking his head as his teeth tugged at the laces of the boxing gloves he wore.

  He knew it wouldn’t be the last bag to suffer such a grizzly fate. Slowly, his need to relieve aggression was mounting. Once a workout at the punching bag had been used solely for exercise purposes, he acknowledged. Now, the bag served as a pathetic substitute for a live body. Bowing his head, Yohan massaged his eyes and urged himself to calm. The advice was rebutted by a barbell being hurled across the floor.

  Yohan hissed another curse. This one however was spoken, not out of anger, but fear. He was scared-something he could admit to no one. Besides, it was something no one would ever believe. Laid back and seemingly un-riled by anything, Yohan was the youngest son of Marcus and Josephine Ramsey. Of course, he was no less formidable than his brothers and cousins. Over six and a half feet tall, he was dark as midnight and massively built with fierce looks that could instill fear in a man as easily as they could ignite passionate fire in every woman he met. Once extremely loyal to his father, Yohan had been the man’s pride and joy.

  Marcus, of course, savored that fact since Moses and Fernando appeared to have little respect and no love for him. The two elder sons had been one headache after another-from school to girls to the law…

  Yohan, on the other hand, had excelled in school. Intellect and diligence allowed him to skip two grades and graduate alongside his brothers and cousins. He’d been the first to marry and settle down. Sadly, this did nothing to please Marc who would’ve been all too supportive had his son married anyone other than Melina Dan.

  Yohan grimaced, a furrow marring his brow and bringing a sinister element to his magnificent features. Just hearing her name in his head sent his heart to his stomach. They’d been married little over four years when the problems took too much of a toll.

  Standing in the middle of his darkened gym, Yohan smoothed one hand across his chiseled abdomen that glistened with sweat. His steady, intense gaze focused unseeingly at the wall as his memories carried him into the past.

  If they’d been anywhere other than Seattle, those problems may never have existed. How many days had he cursed himself for not leaving when she wanted him to? He’d vastly underestimated her aversion to his father. From the day she’d met Marc, something had changed inside her. The light and laughter in her exotic stare had dimmed and mingled with something morose.

  Still, Yohan thought, shoving both hands into the pockets of the nylon sweats he wore, he wouldn’t succumb to the signs she practically screamed at him. Marcus set everyone on edge and Yohan contented himself thinking his father and wife would find common ground one day. That never happened and then, she simply gave up and out.

  Cold pierced his bare chest and back as he recalled the day he came home and saw no trace of her. Everything she owned was gone and the reality of it had almost killed him. He felt himself dying a little every moment since that day.

  She’d come to see him. Brenda, his assistant, told him his wife seemed on edge. Unfortunately, Melina seemed unwilling to wait until he’d returned from the staff meeting he’d attended.

  Yohan clenched his fist inside his pocket. Soon after she left, the divorce papers arrived. It was then that the anger took root in his soul. He knew without question that Marc was the reason. Not surprising, the man would admit to no wrong doing. Yohan’s only hope was that he could somehow force Melina to come clean. He stifled any and all attempts for the divorce, hoping she’d become angry enough to face him. She never grew angry enough. Out of desperation, Yohan finally sent a letter in care of her attorney since he had no idea where she was at first. He literally begged her to tell him whatever it might be. He made things very clear that he’d fight letting her go until she revealed everything.

  They were both so stubborn, he recalled, tugging a white T-shirt across his torso. Melina had tried so many times to talk to him about Marcus and he wouldn’t hear it. Then, when he wanted her to confide-she wouldn’t. Now, eight years had passed. Long ago, he’d discovered she was living in Memphis, Tennessee. According to her uncle who worked for Ramsey’s London offices, there was no family in the area.

  Yohan figured she was serious about wanting no links to the past. Satisfied with the knowledge of where she was, he’d given her space. Once a month, however, he broke down and went to Memphis to check on her. Of course, no one, not Melina or his family knew of the trips.

  Lately, though, those trips were beginning to stir his temper into frenzy. She’d run from something-something gruesome. He could tell she was afraid in spite of the time that had passed. He was supposed to be the one person she could count on and he’d let her down. Worse, he hadn’t a clue of how to convince her that he wanted to hear and believe all she had to tell him.

  The ring of an old-fashioned rotary phone pierced the air. Yohan recognized the tone of his cellular that lay on the CD system in a far corner of the gym.

  “Yohan,” he answered, grinning when he heard his brother’s voice. “Good to have you back,” he said.

  “You home?” Fernando asked.

  “Yeah, down in the gym. Why?”

  “I’m with Mo, we’re on our way out. We should be there within the hour.”

  Yohan braced himself. “This about Marc?”

  “You bet,” Fernando confirmed, before handing up.

  Yohan stopped himself from pitching the delicate phone against the wall. Instead, he slammed a taped fist to his palm and decided the massacred punching bag could stand a bit more punishment.

  ***

  Memphis, Tennessee

  Melina Dan kept her slanting black stare focused on her laptop while silently summoning her lunch date to appear. She could feel at least a half dozen pairs of eyes on her from her place at the small round table.

  Just don’t look up, Mel ordered herself. If she just coolly acknowledged one of the male glances, her lunch partner would have to vie for a place at the table.

  Please, you are not all that, Mel chastised herself playfully as a tiny smirk softened her mouth.

  All that; or not, rarely mattered, she realized. A woman alone in a restaurant beckoned the heavy male customer base of The Stone like water to a thirsty soul.

  “Come on Crane,” she chanted once more for her boss.

  Melina Dan, however, would have drawn attention to herself regardless of her ‘single’ status at the table for two. Of course, she’d never admit any truth in the fact having never been one to put much stock in her looks. It wasn’t necessary when her beauty was so exquisitely blatant.

  Mel’s heritage of African American and Chinese ancestry, contributed to her exotic loveliness. She was fine-boned; like a China doll, many proclaimed. Her rich, mocha skin tone captured and held a man’s attention almost as reverently as her alluring eyes. The jet black cloud of hair that framed her face, was now a bouncy thick afro that could easily rival the outstanding naturals of the seventies era.

  Extremely graceful and quick minded Mel possessed an abundance of willpower and co
urage. Those traits were effectively masked though, behind the solemn aura that followed her life a fine mist. The depth of emotion in her eyes proved that she’d been dealt more than her fair share of heartache. Her heart still ached. Men regarded her like crystal-tough and beautiful, hard yet fragile.

  She had a lion share of admirers and all were gorgeous, charming and quite suitable. Unfortunately, none of them were Yohan Ramsey. With his flawlessly smooth ebony skin, hair and eyes, he was the only man who could erase her sadness and repair the heartache. More unfortunate still, he was the one man she could never have again.

  “I swear I can feel at least a dozen pairs of eyes firing daggers into my back,” Crane Cannon teased when he took his seat at the table.

  Mel shut down her notebook and tapped her nails against its surface. “Is that why you wanted to meet me here? To have your ego stroked?” she asked again, before turning to secure the device in its leather case.

  Crane shrugged, his black gaze crinkling devilishly when he grinned. “Are you gonna hold it against me?” he asked.

  Mel closed her eyes and waved as though she were shooing an annoying gnat. “I’m far more interested in knowing why you wanted to meet here at The Stone when your office is so much quieter.”

  Crane’s handsome, deeply tanned face lost a bit of the confident allure it exuded. Mel took quick notice, the natural arch of her brows rose higher.

  “So?” she challenged and patiently waited for his response.

  Clearing his throat, Crane pulled a hand through his dark hair which was just beginning to silver at the edges. “I thought a public setting might sway you against cursing me to hell when I tell you what this is about.”

  Mel smiled adoringly and leaned forward to stoke his cheek. “Oh sweetie, you know you can count on me to curse you out in public just as quickly as I would in private,” she sang.