“Quest?” She called, knowing he couldn’t be far and wanting to interest him in one more romp before getting up for the day.
“Quest?” She groaned when she finally decided to try and track him down.
It didn’t take long for her to determine he wasn’t downstairs after she’d left the den and peeked in a few rooms on the lower level. When her search of the second floor proved to be just as futile however, her curiosity began to mount.
Mick pulled open the front door and surveyed the yard, but the Denali was there parked in the driveway right where they’d left it the day before. As she was only attired in the Afghan taken from across the back of the sofa, a more thorough search of the grounds wasn’t possible just then.
Forcing her curiosity not to mesh into concern, she closed the door and leaned against it for a while. She noticed the message light flashing on the phone and couldn’t be sure if it’d been blinking when they’d arrive the previous day. It could’ve been a new message from Quest.
“One way to find out,” She sighed and headed over to check what turned out to be over ten messages.
There was one from Shelly Manders, the real estate agent coming by later that morning. Next, was the first of what turned out to be twelve messages from Contessa. The messages only consisted of County uttering a quick ‘call me Mick.’ But with each passing message, those three words gained intensity.
“Probably calling to bitch about the wedding,” Mick rolled her eyes and simply deleted her friend’s urgent requests. She checked the clock on the phone and figured she’d better hit the shower if she was going to be ready to meet the realtor.
Casting one last look at the front door, she figured Quest probably went for a run or something. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine the man needing more of a workout than the one he’d put in the night before. Smiling naughtily at the thought, she sprinted up the stairs.
~~~
Quest had indeed put in a workout and one his wife would witness soon enough when she saw the state of her gazebo. He woke that morning, intending to make breakfast for them and then dive into the heavy conversation they needed to have. He decided to let her sleep in until breakfast and then recalled the realtor coming and chose to push back the talk until the afternoon. He was about to scramble eggs, when he opted to grab the paper first. He found The Times on the hood of the Denali and grabbed the mail that had followed him unopened halfway around the world.
Quest barely made it back inside the house. His legs were as weak as twigs when he tore through the box and found his own personal copy of “Royal Ramsey” by Michaela Sellars. Though part of him was impressed by her nerve, it was unfortunately, a very small part. It was too small of a part to override the rage that began a slow rumble in his gut before it churned up to ramming speed.
As if in a daze, he took the book and headed around the side of the house and towards the backyard. His handsome dark face harbored an element that overshadowed the allure of his appearance with something more menacing. Being defied wasn’t a thing he was familiar with. The fact that it was Michaela who had defied him, was almost incomprehensible. There was no premise for this and he had absolutely no idea what to do with the frustration welling up inside him.
Well…he’d known what to do with some of it. The massacred gazebo was proof of that. Sadly, the relish he’d taken in tearing apart the elegant structure only served to stimulate the rage. Afterwards, he sat amidst the shredded planks of wood and turned the book over in his hands. He traced Mick’s photo on the back cover and closed his eyes as if meditating- trying to will the anger to cool. It didn’t help. Instead, he tore the jacket from the hardback and watched it land amongst the debris around what was left of the gazebo. Rising to his feet, he stormed off with the book in hand.
***
Michaela felt she’d done a professional and gracious job during her meeting time with the realtor which was approaching the hour mark. This was quite commendable especially since her mind was almost totally centered on Quest who she hadn’t seen yet that day. He hadn’t returned when she’d come downstairs after her shower. The Denali was gone, so she tried to call his cell phone but received no answer. The message light wasn’t blinking, so he hadn’t tried to call her. For a split second she wondered if his vanishing act could’ve been about the strange visit from the mysterious and dangerous-looking Hill Tesano. She shook off the thought, instinctively knowing it was about far more than that. Unfortunately she had no clue about what that was.
Thankfully, Shelly Manders arrived promptly at eleven a.m. eager to view a house in the development she’d often admired.
“This area could even be used as an upper level lounge.” Shelly remarked on the attic while jotting possible selling points in her notebook.
“Mmm…I thought of using it for a library once,” Mick idly agreed while looking up and around the spacious dim area. “I’ve only gotten around to using it for storage.” She said, spotting two small boxes in a corner near the stairway.
“Left behind from the move?” Shelly asked, having spotted the boxes as well.
Mick brushed away cobwebs and gasped when she noticed Driggers’ name on both. “No,” her voice was soft in a reverent sort of way as she traced Driggers’ familiar scrawl upon the boxes. “They um…they belonged to a dear friend who passed away a-a few years ago.” Her fingers lingered over the boxes- one labeled letters, the other photos.
“Well I do believe I’ve gathered enough info for my prelim portfolio.” Shelly could tell the boxes and the person they belonged to were bringing round a wave of heavy emotion for her new client. “I may want to take another look around again soon, but for now I think I’ll be saying good day to you.”
Mick stood with the boxes in hand. “I’ll arrange to have duplicate keys sent to your office. That way you can come and go as you please.”
“Oh that’d be great,” Shelly’s tanned face beamed with excitement. She was thrilled by the opportunity to show such a lovely home and continued to chat on it while she and Mick made their way out of the attic.
“I don’t even think it’ll take a month to sell the place.” Shelly was predicting as they walked into the kitchen. “It’s charming inside and out.”
Mick blew a curl from her forehead while setting Driggers’ boxes to the marble counter top. “Thanks Shelly. I feel good about putting the place in your hands.”
“Oh goodness…” Shelly was tugging a lock of her shoulder length red hair behind her ear. “What happened there?”
The hushed surprise in Shelly’s voice sent Mick to frowning. She turned to look in the direction the realtor stared past the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard.
“A gazebo, isn’t it?” Shelly noted the feature in her book. “Prime selling point, but it’ll need to be repaired before-”
Mick was already out the doors and racing toward the damaged structure. Her mouth was a perfect O and as wide as her eyes as she stared in wonder. Heavy planks of wood seemed to have been peeled right off the once beautiful shelter.
“Should we call the police?” Shelly was slightly out of breath, having raced out after Michaela.
Mick couldn’t answer, still in shock as she continued to survey the damage. She caught sight of what looked to be a crumpled paper and realized it was the jacket for “Royal Ramsey”.
“God,” her heart somersaulted clear to her throat as her legs lost their strength.
“Michaela what-”
Unable to tend to Shelly’s concern then, Mick only raised her hand to plea for more silence.
“We’re gonna have to um…finish this another time Shelly.” Mick calmly and finally told the woman.
“You don’t look so good Michaela.”
That’s an understatement lady. At last Mick was able to brace her hands to her knees and push herself to stand. It took some doing, but she was finally able to assure Shelly that everything was fine and that she’d take care of it. Alone then, Mick decided to return C
ounty’s calls.
Hearing Michaela’s voice on the other end of the line had County thanking God in one voice and cursing her friend in the other.
“Do you know how crazy I’ve been? Where the hell do you get off not returning my calls for damn near a month?!”
“Would you just cool it? I’m returning them now. What the devil is going on?” Mick practically groaned the question as she already knew the answers. She could hear County on the line softly urging herself to calm before going into the full story.
“Somehow Quest’s name was left on the manifest for a preview copy of “Royal Ramsey”.
Mick closed her eyes and slid down the wall with the phone clutched in her hand.
“He could get the book anytime girl.”
“He already has.” Mick sounded as though she were talking to herself. “Shit County how’d this happen? What the hell were you thinking?”
“Now just hold on a damn minute. This was an error that would’ve never been made if you hadn’t tried to be Billie Bad-Ass and publish the thing after bein’ told not to!”
“And don’t you go forgetting you were right there to publish it for me. It didn’t take much persuasion to get you to go along with it.”
Silence covered the line for several heavy moments.
“This isn’t helping.” County muttered a curse.
Mick did the same. “You’re right.”
“You just said Quest already knows. What happened?”
“I um, I haven’t seen him.” Mick fidgeted with the scoop collar of her black Henley sweater. “He was gone when I woke up this morning.”
“God Mick what are you gonna do?”
Mick’s shuddery breathing was the only response she could provide.
“Will you be alright?”
“I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine- everything’ll be fine.” Mick knew she was trying to convince herself as much as County. “I’ll just talk to him when he gets here. It’ll be fine once we talk.”
“But what if-”
“County please, please alright?” Mick rose to her feet with resolve on her face and in her voice. “We’ll talk and that’ll be that. He’ll understand why I needed to do this and that his word isn’t law- not when it comes to me.”
“Brave words,” County let the phrase hang on the air for a time. “Will you be able to say them to Quest?”
“We’ll see. I gotta go.”
***
After talking with Contessa, Mick settled herself in the den and went through the box of Driggers’ old photos. She hoped they’d ease her mind and her nerves. Her hopes were fulfilled- at least for the first two hours. Mick delved into the chore of cleaning the house- a task that worked off her frustration and calmed her for another hour at least.
Following a second shower, she shaved off another two hours watching a movie in her bedroom. Around six thirty, she decided to stop fooling herself and took up residence on the front stairway. She watched the door for her husband and the confrontation he was sure to bring with him. Her skin was riddled with gooseflesh but she dared not move to grab a sweater to cover the coral tankini she wore with fading jeans. She’d never relished confrontation- least of all with her husband.
She heard his key scratch the lock just before seven. The words she’d rehearsed all afternoon fled her mind at the sight of him. Haggard; was a mild observation. The olive green Adidas sweatshirt and pants were heavily wrinkled and looked to be sprinkled with dirt and brush. The shadow of a beard darkened the lower half of his face. No surprise there as he hadn’t shaved the previous two days either. Mick recalled telling him it was sexy, now it just made him look dangerous.
The setting sun streamed through the windows along the foyer ceiling and gave the area an ethereal allure that was anything but soothing. Mick stood and watched him cross the foyer. Quest’s expression was closed, dark…unreadable. Never had she seen him appear so cold. She smoothed clammy hands across the seat of her jeans. No, confrontation had never been something she’d relished and that fact was amplified when she whispered his name and saw despise in his pitch stare.
“Remind me to have you sign this for me.” His voice was soft and cool yet carried the distinct undercurrent of rage.
Mick retreated a step when he waved the book before her face on his way up the staircase.
“Quest? Quest please let me talk to you.”
“Not now.”
“I need to tell you why.”
He continued on up the stairway. “I don’t want to hear it Michaela.”
“Quest please-”
“I don’t want to hear it!”
The sheer force of his roar caused her legs to water and she dropped to the stairway trembling violently.
Quest’s entire body shook as well. He stopped on the first floor landing and slammed the book against the wall nearest him.
“Pack up. We leave in the morning.” He said and then he was gone.
Somewhere in the distance, Mick heard him slam a door. The tiny muffled sound of her crying filled the lower level soon after.
***
The flight to Las Vegas was thankfully void of conversation but the tension stirring between Quest and Michaela filled the void nicely. Even the flight crew seemed to sense that all was not kosher between the couple. As a result, they kept their visits to the passengers few and brief.
Mick kept her eyes on the passing clouds outside the small windows in the main cabin. Her skin tingled as if pricked by a thousand needles and she knew without a doubt that he watched her. She didn’t need to make eye contact to know his gaze raked her face and body with a mixture of simmering rage and…something she couldn’t quite finger. Disappointment, maybe? She let her lashes flutter and clenched her hands to resist smoothing them along the cotton sleeves of her navy flare leg jumpsuit.
Whatever lay in Quest’s look, it was just as powerful and more unsettling than words could ever be. Three times, she tried to drink the bottled water she’d requested. Each time, her hand shook so badly she had to set the bottle aside.
Finally, she dug up the courage she knew she had stashed somewhere and met his narrowed onyx stare with defiance shimmering in her brilliant amber one.
“How long are you gonna try to rattle me Quest?”
His eyes narrowed further while a smirk began to curve his mouth. Mick saw no humor fueling the gesture. When he stood, she willed herself not to react when he curved his hands over the arms of her chair.
For a time, he only leaned across her- head bowed eyes closed. Michaela almost whimpered she was so hungry for his attention- his gentleness. She allowed herself to believe he was softening and courageously nuzzled her cheek into his.
“Quest please…” she inhaled the crisp scent of soap and cologne on his skin and curved her fingers at the collar of the sandstone shirt that hung outside his dark trousers. “I need to tell you why, please…” her mouth brushed the corner of his.
She was seconds from kissing him when he jerked her hand from his shirt and set her back against the seat.
No hint of the beckoning gray showed in his eyes. Any trace of softness was gone. “You don’t want to talk to me about this now.” He said. “Trust me. Trust me.”
Mick waited until he moved away. Then she allowed tears to pool her eyes.
***
Sabra Ramsey was accustomed to having all eyes on her. Tall and curvaceous; with a mane of wavy black falling to her waist, the stunning thirty one year old had the no nonsense aura of a woman far older. Sabra would be the first to tell anyone she’d learned her lessons young, but she’d learned them well.
Coolly, she both acknowledged and dismissed the interested and downright blatantly lustful stares she drew. Her wide light brown gaze sparkled when she saw the two people she wanted to greet in the lobby of her hotel/casino.
Squealing, she ran towards Quest and Michaela and enfolded them in a double hug. She was so elated; she didn’t notice how loose the couples’ return embraces were.
“Oh I’ve missed you guys so much! We’re gonna have such a good time, I’ve got it all set. Mama’s away on one of her spa weeks so we won’t have to worry about her being in our hair either. Oh I can’t wait to show off all the changes I’ve made since y’all visited a few years ago.”
“Any of these changes include new employees?” Quest asked his voice low and monotone.
“Damn right.” Sabra confirmed and leaned close to press a happy kiss to her cousin’s cheek.
“I want to see paperwork on all your new hires.”
Sabra rolled her eyes. “I really don’t think my new people have anything to do with those calls, Q.”
“But you don’t know for sure?”
“Well I can’t be-”
“I’m gonna check in and I’ll see you in your office. One hour.”
“Well hello to you too,” Sabra called to Quest’s back as he walked off without a backward glance. “Who planted a stick inside his ass?”
“That would be me,” Mick groaned and scrubbed her face in her palms.
Concern replaced Sabra’s curious expression and she clamped a hand on Mick’s shoulder. “What’s goin’ on? What happened?”
“He’s furious with me.”
“Bullshit.” Again, Sabra rolled her eyes. “You guys are perfect. Beyond perfect.”
Mick could only sigh as she blinked and looked up at the elaborate maze of escalators that crossed the lobby’s high ceilings. Clearly, she was trying to keep more tears from sliding to her cheeks.
“Hey?” Sabra drew Mick close. “Come on with me.”
“Okay just let me-” Instinctively, Mick turned with intentions of waving goodbye to her husband but he’d already left the front desk. The simple, cold feeling of being dismissed killed her a little more inside.
Sabra shared her twin cousins’ love of extensive work space. She occupied the entire top floors of dual scrapers that bore her name. One was for business- the other for living. Both were spectacular.
“Hold my calls!” She yelled to her flustered assistants and ushered Michaela inside her private office. “Now what the hell is going on? He looks murderous.” She demanded once the doors were closed on her assistant’s inquisitive stares.
The Ramseys Boxed Set Page 134
