The Ramseys Boxed Set

by Altonya Washington

  “What are you doing here?” she breathed.

  “I told you I’d be stopping by.”

  “But not here.”

  Ken tapped his index finger against his temple. “Element of surprise, Dear.”

  “What the hell is goin’ on?” Jo demanded, stepping further into the room. “How could you betray us this way-betray me?”

  Ken’s green eyes flickered with regret.

  “Luke and Floyd are determined to make you pay,” Johari shared, folding her arms across her sleeveless candy pink sundress. “To sic Moses Ramsey on your ass, clearly means they’re dead serious.”

  Ken leaned forward and began to wring his hands. “Were you able to get him to back off?”

  Jo nodded. “For now, but what you have to tell me better be damn good.”

  “It is,” Ken sighed, running all ten fingers through his curly light brown hair.

  “Dammit Ken what is going on? Why would you do this?” Jo cried, fear for her friend mingling with her anger towards him.

  “Did I ever tell you about my first job out of high school Jo?” he asked.

  “Ken-“

  “It was for a man named Crane Cannon,” he said, easing a hand into the side pocket of his slate green Dockers. “He runs a series of art galleries now, but then he also specialized in photographic art.”

  “I know Crane,” Jo whispered, sitting on the arm of the sofa. “My cousin works for him. He’s running for a senate seat in Tennessee.”

  “Yeah…” Ken sighed, his tanned face seeming to cloud more.

  “Kennedy please. Just tell me, alright?” Jo urged, clasping both hands to her chest. “What’s this about and what the hell does Crane Cannon have to do with it?”

  “Crane’s help gave me lots of exposure-opened the door to many high-end clients. Eventually, I was making good money. Unfortunately, it was good money for some not so good people.”

  Jo slid off the sofa arm to take a seat on one of its cushions. “What does that mean?” she queried with a slight shake of her head.

  Ken was pacing the living room now. One arm folded across his chest, while he set his fist beneath his chin. “I got a job to do a catalog shoot. Someone had bought one of my photographs from Crane. That person had a party where someone asked about me and so on and so forth.”

  Jo shook her head again. “I don’t understand.”

  “Just let me finish, please,” he urged in a strained voice. “The money was incredible-everything was starting to come together. It was time to discuss the project in detail. I met with the client and discovered that the…merchandise for sale were girls…young girls.”

  Johari’s confusion cleared. Her back was stiff as a board while she listened to Ken tell her exactly what he’d stumbled into and how it had haunted him ever since.

  “I focused on the money and the contacts,” he was saying. “I did the job and I never looked back.”

  “Who was the client, Ken?” Jo closed her eyes and asked.

  “Cufi Muhammad.”

  “Son of a bitch,” she seethed, anger gleaming when she opened her eyes and glared at Ken. “You idiot, how could you be so stupid? Do you know what you did by allowing this to continue? Did you know about my sister?” she asked in a tone more accusing than inquisitive.

  Ken frowned and appeared stunned. “Jo? Your-your sister?”

  “Yes, you son of a bitch. Cufi and Marcus Ramsey took her when she was fifteen. They made her…did you know?”

  Ken shook his head, walking towards her and stopping in the middle of the room. “No Johari. I swear-no. Sweetheart I’m so sorry-“

  “Don’t,” she urged quietly with a weary wave. “Just tell me what all this has to do with you stealing from us?”

  Ken took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. “When Houston Ramsey spilled his guts about what he knew, Cufi’s customers ran for cover. They left him and his partners high and dry. Many of those customers were employed in positions of authority. They didn’t waste a second freezing Muhammad’s assets to maintain the appearance of doing their jobs.” He smirked and walked over to stare past the balcony doors. “Cufi ran for cover too and resorted to blackmail or-as he likes to say-‘calling in a few favors’. He threatened to expose my involvement with the catalog if I didn’t provide money.” He turned back to face Johari. “When Luke and Floyd started getting suspicious, I cut it off but Cufi wasn’t having it. He knew how I was connected to Crane and he also knew about Crane’s involvement with a married woman and the son they shared.”

  Johari’s lips parted. “Josephine and Yohan,” she whispered.

  Ken bowed his head. “Cufi threatened Crane with it, but it was arranged so that I’d take the fall,” he clarified. “Crane and I parted on bad terms when he decided to move away from photographic art to focus on the painters. It was a pretty explosive scene between us before I left. No one would believe I wasn’t involved.”

  Jo pounded her fist to the sofa. “Why didn’t you come to me before?”

  “Please Jo, that embezzlement didn’t scare me half as much as the rest. Kids Johari. I put ‘em in a catalog and sold them like they were shoes!” He began to pace the room again. “My life is over, that’s for damn sure. I’m gonna burn for this and I deserve to.”

  “That may not happen if you give up Cufi to the authorities.”

  Ken stopped pacing to watch her like she was crazy.

  “Zara-my sister- she’s going to testify. With the two of you corroborating Cufi would be the one to burn.”

  “You’re fooling yourself. The man’s almost impossible to touch.”

  Jo shrugged. “He may not be as hard to touch as you think. After all, he’s just lost a lot of his steam.”

  “So what about your friend-the bounty hunter? You think he could get near him?”

  Jo moved off the sofa. “He almost did. Once.”

  “Only now he’s got his sights set on me,” Ken recalled. “He’s not gonna believe a word of what I just told you.”

  “Hey, hey everybody knows what Cufi was into.”

  “Humph, everybody but Luke and Floyd who still want my ass.”

  “Why don’t you let me worry about them?”

  “And your bounty hunter?”

  Jo tugged on Ken’s hand and drew him into a hug. “Please stop worrying. I won’t abandon you in this. I promise.”

  ***

  Tykira was finishing up a phone call to Lena Robinson. Wake’s mother had agreed to let the twins meet the family during the Quincee’s baptism party. Ty clapped her hands once the phone was on its cradle. “It’s all set,” she announced, turning on the round vanity seat when Quay didn’t respond. She tilted her head and watched him leaning against the head of the bed, arms folded across his chest while he stared into the distance. Raising her brows resolvedly, Ty left the seat and joined him on the bed.

  “Hey? You alright?” she asked, rubbing Quay’s shoulder.

  He took several moments to reply. “I shouldn’t have gone to the hospital,” he said, still staring out into the distance. “Seeing Zara didn’t do a damn bit of good-made things worse, if anything.”

  “Well…at least she knows the truth. She’s got no more delusions about the two of you.”

  Quay shook his head. “After what she’d been through, a delusion probably felt like Heaven.”

  Ty scooted closer to her husband and propped her chin on his shoulder. “Don’t do this,” she urged, kissing his cheek and moving back. “Zara had to be told. It was gonna hurt regardless of when she was told.”

  At last, Quay blinked and focused on his wife. Ty smiled at the feel of his hand easing into her thick locks.

  “At least now she’s got her family around to support her along the way,” she noted.

  Quay’s hand weakened in her hair. “She told me she was pregnant Tyke,” he said and watched her eyes widen.

  “Pregnant?” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t mine. She
said it belonged to another Ramsey.”

  Ty appeared even more stunned. “I’m guessing she didn’t tell you who?” she asked, watching him shake his head again.

  “Jesus Ty she’s had so much to go through,” he sighed and pulled her into a tight hug. “A person can take only so much before they snap and I honestly don’t know if she has enough family to support her through it.”

  ***

  A set expression darkened Fernando’s caramel toned face as he focused on the 8x10 glossy he held. He’d been studying the photo for well over five minutes when County strolled into the living room. She gave a twirl to show off the alluring azure halter dress she sported.

  Pouting, once she discovered her fiancé was paying her no mind, County propped a hand on her hip. “Well?” she called, as the hem of the dress flared gracefully about her calves. “Ramsey?” she called with a bit more force.

  “Yes, love?” was his absent reply.

  County shook her head before walking around behind the chair he occupied. “Well isn’t that nice?” she commented in reference to the house in the photo.

  Fernando shifted in his chair. “Yeah,” he agreed.

  “Yours?”

  “Nah.”

  “Whose?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  County leaned her hip against the high back of the arm chair. “Where is it?”

  “Another one I don’t know. I found this in the stuff I took from Stef’s office, but I can’t recall him ever havin’ a place like this.”

  It was then, that Contessa noticed the files littering the coffee table. She realized that once again Fernando was involved with his hunt for Stefan Lyons.

  “I thought we were done with this,” she groaned and pushed herself from the chair. “Baby don’t we have enough to worry over with Houston’s trial coming up and then your father’s?” she asked, flinching as Fernando hissed a curse before slapping down the photo. Rolling her eyes, she sauntered around to the front of the chair and plopped herself in his lap.

  “I’ll make a deal with you Ramsey,” she murmured against his temple, “you let this go and focus on something more exciting-namely me; at least until after our honeymoon and I’ll help you track down your jerk partner myself.”

  Fernando smiled, his thoughts now wholly focused on the beauty snuggled against his stiffening arousal. “I don’t need help finding Stef, but I’ll take you up on the ‘focusing on you’ part,” he decided.

  Contessa’s sunny smile emerged. “Deal,” she said before a pout tugged at her lips. “And you haven’t even complimented my dress,” she scolded softly.

  “For me?” he inquired, his eyes narrowing adorably, while he rubbed the material between his fingers.

  “Mmm hmm,” she confirmed, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth.

  Fernando’s gaze raked the frock. “Even what’s beneath?”

  “Always,” she whispered, leaning close to engage him in a kiss.

  ***

  Melina awoke with a jerk, frowning in confusion when she glimpsed the bedside clock to find that it was only a little before nine-thirty p.m. Then, she recalled that she and Yohan had opted to turn in early that night-preferring to enjoy more intimate activities for the evening. Her frown deepened again when she realized her husband wasn’t in bed.

  Slowly, she turned, scanning the bedroom for any sign of him. A gasp escaped her when she found him across the room relaxing in the arm chair that flanked the window seat.

  “Han? You okay?”

  “I was waiting to ask you the same thing,” he countered softly.

  “Me?” Mel blurted.

  “You pretty much kicked me out of bed,” he shared.

  Mel laughed. “Stop playin’ around.”

  “Would you like to see the bruises on my side?”

  Mel leaned back against the gold satin pillows. “I’m sorry,” she groaned.

  “Don’t apologize just tell me what’s wrong?” Yohan coaxed, leaving the chair to join her on the bed.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” Mel said, scooting up in bed, “there’s just so much going on. We’re about to renew our vows, Zara’s back after all these years and in a few weeks, I’ll be testifying against not only your uncle, but your father. It’s a lot to deal with.”

  Yohan stroked her thigh. “Havin’ second thought?”

  “No.”

  “But I’m guessing you still wish you didn’t have to do it?”

  Mel’s silence was confirmation enough. Yohan pulled her close then, losing one hand in her thick hair.

  “It’ll be alright,” he promised.

  Mel shuddered against his chest. “Why can’t I believe that?” she asked, nuzzling her face against the strong chords of his neck. “Baby I just have this awful feeling that things are gonna go so terribly wrong.”

  “Hey? Are you forgetting that Marc and Houston are under lock and key?” he asked, pulling back to watch her in the dark. “Their friends are in hiding…it’s the end for them.”

  “Mmm and that is when people usually get desperate.”

  “Shh…” Yohan urged, hugging her more tightly. He wasn’t about to tell her that he agreed.

  ***

  Mick couldn’t have been more surprised to learn that Quest had gone to Double Q when she called him earlier that evening. She knocked softly on the club’s office door and slowly stepped inside when her husband voiced his permission to enter.

  “Well, well this is unusual,” she teased, closing and locking the door behind her. “Quay would have a heart attack if he knew you were here,” she noted, recalling that the Quaysar Ramsey was always trying to get his twin to visit the club they co-owned more often.

  In spite of his obvious mood, Quest grinned. “One reason I’m here. It’s the last place he’d ever think to track me down.”

  “Does that go for me too?” Mick asked in a small voice.

  “Get the hell over here,” he ordered with a wave of his hand.

  Michaela complied, coming to kneel before him in the chair he occupied. “Does it make you feel good to have me so worried over you?” she asked.

  Quest sighed, shaking his head while his hand became covered by her curls. “I don’t want you worried about anything, especially me.”

  “And in spite of that, it’d do me no good to ask you what’s wrong again,” she noted, and then clutched fistfuls of his sagging black denims. “So what is wrong?” she asked anyway.

  “Mick please give me a break,” he begged, dragging both hands across his face.

  “That’s what I’ve been doing and now I’m sick of playing nice.” She pulled his hands into hers. “I want to know what’s wrong with you and I have every intention of finding out.”

  Quest brought her hand to his mouth and accepted that his wife meant every word. Eventually, a curious frown marred his brow. “Where’s the lady?” he asked, referring to their daughter.

  “Your parents.”

  Quest grimaced and let go of her hand. “So you’ve got all night to grill me, huh?”

  Mick’s smile wasn’t humor-filled. “Believe me, it’s not what I consider a fun time. Anyway, I’m not just here for that.”

  Quest finally focused in on what she was wearing. His gray stare faltered to the snug plum tennis dress she wore. He swallowed when she stood before him. The zip front was lowered to reveal the deep cleft between her breasts-the nipples were stiff and outlined against the cotton material.

  “You gonna make me guess?” he asked, swallowing again when she straddled his lap.

  “I’m here to celebrate,” Mick announced in a perky tone and settled herself to the steadily firming arousal beneath the button-fly of his jeans.

  Quest closed his eyes. “I swear I can’t take this tonight Mick,” he moaned, massaging his forehead.

  Mick leaned close to kiss him, thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. Her giggle ended on a gasp when he joined in eagerly. She waited until he was lost in the lusty dueling of their tongues bef
ore she pulled away.

  “So you don’t want to…take this?” she taunted, grazing her desire against his once more.

  “Don’t do this to me Mick,” he almost sobbed.

  “Don’t you want me?” she asked, faking a look of total innocence.

  Quest let his head fall back against the chair.

  Pretending not to notice his frustration, Mick pretended to be exasperated. “I really don’t believe this,” she began, “I come here to celebrate the end of our six torturous weeks of abstinence,” she continued and pretended not to notice his head snapping up. “And my husband doesn’t want to have sex with me. I mean, I come here naked beneath my dress,” she tugged down the zipper front, “and I can barely get a rise out of-“

  Quest tugged her into a rough kiss, his tongue delving deep and exploring every inch of her mouth. Mick could barely breathe, but no way was she going to resist. Quest filled his hands with her bosom, burying his face into the scented haven of her breasts. He was suckling madly on one firming nipple, while freeing himself from the confines of his jeans. In seconds he had the zipper of her dress undone and groaned over the realization that she really was nude beneath it. Without further hesitation, he gripped her bottom and settled her beautifully over his throbbing length.

  “Looks like I got a rise out of you after all,” Mick gasped, tugging on her lip as she took all of him.

  “Quiet,” he ordered.

  Of course, Mick was happy to obey.

  ***

  When the elevator doors opened right onto the floor of Moses’ condo, Johari found herself trapped in his arms for a delicious kiss. She completely lost track of what she’d come to say and linked her arms about his neck. The low, savage growls Moses uttered each time his tongue swirled around her own, sent shivers coursing Jo’s spine.

  “Why Ram, what would your neighbors say?” she whispered when he released her.

  Moses slanted a cunning look towards the opposite end of the hall. “I’ve only got one neighbor and I’m a monk compared to him.”

  Johari shrieked when his hands spanned her waist and he carried her past the open door to his home. Venturing no farther than the living room doorway, both his hands disappeared beneath the hem of her snug blue crewneck top. Jo felt herself submitting to the delicious sensation stemming from his thumbs working her nipples through the lace of her bra. Eventually, she forced herself to recall the importance of her visit. She managed to tug his hands out of her top and groaned when he simply lowered them to the waistband of her beige chinos.