The Ramseys Boxed Set

by Altonya Washington

  For Michaela, maintaining eye contact was impossible. Especially once Quest stood and walked toward her.

  “I um…I put Quinn in the nursery. I got this meeting at Ramsey.” He stood impossibly close, his expression lost and apologetic as he towered over her. “I’ll be there if…if you need me.”

  Mick barely nodded and kept her eyes on everything except her husband. Quest left the robe on the counter and brushed his fingers across the small of her back in his way out.

  ~~~

  Mick spent a little more time playing with Quincee and feeding her before the baby drifted off to sleep. Alone with her thoughts- they were totally centered on Quest’s behavior before he left for his meeting.

  Was he softening? Was he ready to listen to her? Was he ready to hear her tell him she published that book to remind herself what it felt like to not be smothered by protection or over protection as it were? Would he listen to her tell him that she needed to do as she saw fit when she saw fit to do it?

  “Stupid…” Michaela hissed silently and called herself a fool.

  There was desire in his eyes but no remorse. After all, Quest Ramsey apologized to no one. Why should he when he was always right? Mick left the nursery shaking her head to clear her mind as she returned to the bedroom where Driggers’ boxes waited.

  She was pleased she’d had the forethought to send them on ahead when they left Chicago. The smile on her face mirrored the one reflected in her eyes when they settled on the box of photos. The snapshots brought back so many wonderful memories. Amidst the wonder however, was the bittersweet aftertaste of regret.

  Driggers…if only he were there. He would know how to help her handle this. He’d tell her how to approach Quest. Driggers always knew what to do. Unfortunately, he wasn’t there, she acknowledged and set the photos back in the box. Smoothing her arms along the sleeves of her robe, she made a mental note to purchase albums to preserve the pictures.

  Next, she moved closer to the center of the bed and turned her attention to the box of papers there. A good lock box would be perfect to keep them protected until she had a better idea of what to do with them. For a while, she shuffled through old news clippings, reviews of her work that he’d saved and other miscellaneous items. Her curiosity peaked just a bit higher when she glimpsed the edge of a page peeking out of an envelope. The words ‘Mr. Morgan I wanted to apologize…’ prompted her to pull the sheet from its time-worn packaging and read further.

  Mr. Morgan,

  I wanted to apologize for the confusion I caused you on last week. It was purely on impulse that I even dared to come there. You were right of course. The time has long passed for me to make any sort of attempts to form a bond or even a communication with someone I treated so horribly.

  As I said, it was an impulse as so many things in my life have been. I called myself a fool many times- to believe the name Michaela Sellars on the cover of that book could be the same Michaela- my Michaela…the child I discarded as if she were nothing more than an afterthought. In truth, I never thought to meet her when I visited- only to see her. Only to prove to myself that it was her and that she was fine- doing well. That what I’d done- what Evette Sellars had done hadn’t ruined her.

  As an older, wiser Yvonne Wilson, I now realize that she’s far better off never knowing about any of that. She’s far better off thinking I no longer exist. She’s so very blessed to have you in her life and I appreciate the time we took to speak. Thank you.

  Sincerely,

  Yvonne Wilson

  But for the slow rise and fall of her chest, Mick didn’t move. After a moment, the letter drifted from her loose fingers to settle on the surface of the satin bed comforter. Her hand remained extended as if she still held the brittle page.

  Needles began to prickle the soles of her feet as she’d sat kneeling in the middle of the bed for quite some time. Mick registered none of that. At last, she blinked and her eyes fell right to the paper that rested atop all the others.

  Time passed slowed for Michaela as she scanned the words again and again. Her body turned cold from devastation.

  ~CHAPTER TWELVE~

  Quincee woke needing to be changed which was the only thing that jerked Mick from her daze and forced her to leave the bedroom. She performed her motherly duties with the usual love and tenderness. Cozy and content, Quincee drifted back into an innocent slumber while her mother drifted back into a daze.

  Instead of returning to the bedroom, Mick went downstairs. Her mind seemed blank yet at the same time it teemed with a collage of thoughts that bumped against one another in a crazed dance. For a time, she sat in the living room looking out over the front lawn but not really seeing anything. She went into the kitchen, opening her refrigerator but taking out nothing. She held open the chrome door and stood, looking in for at least five minutes.

  ~~~

  The slow shuffling of her feet led her into the den where she studied the room in an absent manner. Newspapers from the past few weeks cluttered the area around the matching reading chairs and Mick knelt to put them in some type of order. The headline: Alleged Child Prostitution Leader Gunned Down At Gallery drew her brows close but for a moment. Faintly, she recalled having heard something about the matter but the lost glint returned to her amber stare and she lost interest in the story.

  Finished with the task of straightening the newspapers, Mick sat on the edge of one of the reading chairs and looked around the room. The flashing of the answering machine drew her to her feet. She checked the messages which were few as Quest had handled the chore before he left the house for his meeting at Ramsey.

  One message was from County who wanted to talk. Another was from Catrina saying how much she and Damon enjoyed having Quincee and saying how much they’d like to have her again. You and Quest should get away more, she’d said.

  The shameless request for more time with their granddaughter actually brought a smile to Mick’s face. The last message was from Taurus, saying how much he and Nile would like to get together with her and Quest for dinner.

  Suddenly, Michaela blinked and her head whipped round to the stack of newspapers. In seconds, the papers were in their former state of disarray. Mick found what she was looking for and began to read feverishly.

  “Alleged child prostitution leader Cufi Muhammad was gunned down Thursday at Charm Galleries. Muhammad; wanted for questioning regarding his suspected role in various abductions spanning at least two decades, was shot and killed by his wife Yvonne Wilson as the couple’s daughter- renowned artist Nile Becquois- looked on.”

  Mick pressed the paper to the carpet and hunched over to re-read the write up.

  “Jesus,” she breathed and then raced from the den.

  ***

  Quaysar Ramsey never thought he’d see the day when his twin could be accused of procrastination. The man had never wasted time getting things done- from homework when they were in school to paperwork when they began the land development division at Ramsey. This uneasy, displaced side of Quest’s demeanor was quite surprising indeed. Of course, how Mick took the news, was the first thing Quay wanted to hear of his brother’s trip. He could tell Quest was struggling and tried to be understanding as he listened to the excuses.

  “…and then I opened up that damned book…”

  Quay rolled his eyes toward the copy of “Royal Ramsey” that Quest brought to show him. “And?” He prompted when his brother’s explanation drew to a halt. “What Q? Your anger justified you to keep this thing from her a little longer?”

  In spite of his unease, Quest was able to spare his twin a deadly glance.

  Quay dismissed it like an annoying gnat. “I hope you didn’t come down on her for this?” He waved the book in the air.

  Quest shrugged. “I didn’t come down on her at all…that much,” he massaged the back of his neck and paced the conference room in the office. “I barely said anything at all to her.” He winced and sat on the end of the long pine table. “I hurt her just the same as if
I’d spent a week roaring after her over it.”

  Quay bumped the book against the thigh of his chestnut trousers. He felt his own temper boil over the need to knock some sense into his brother’s usually sensible head. Thankfully, the elevator doors opened in the penthouse office and the sound of their meeting attendant’s voices stayed his hand. Tossing aside the book, he stepped close to Quest.

  “Fix this Q, fix it quick.”

  ***

  Nile checked the posts on the backs of her dangling gold earrings as she descended the stairway. The ringing doorbell had her checking the time. Her meeting with Claire Boyer wasn’t for another three hours and she hoped there hadn’t been a mix-up. Smoothing her hands across the seat of her casual black drawstring pants, she headed to the doors prepared to meet with Yvonne’s attorney. Still, she was careful to peek out the secure window to check. Gasping at the sight of her visitor, Nile wasted no time opening the door.

  “Michaela.”

  Barely crossing the threshold, Mick caught Nile’s arm in a firm grip. “You knew who I was. You knew when we met at your wedding.”

  Nile blinked. “Yes.” She began to nod as if entranced.

  “God,” Michaela leaned against the doorjamb. She felt faint.

  “Michaela…please- please come in.” Nile was already tugging her hand.

  Instead, Mick chose to take a seat on one of the cushioned benches in the corridor outside the penthouse entrance. Her dazed expression had returned full-fold. Her amber stare was wide yet blank while focused toward the wall.

  Nile left the doorway to join Mick on the bench. Tentatively, she reached for Michaela’s hand and smiled when Mick clutched it and squeezed back.

  “Mon Dieu, I’m so glad that’s over.” Nile rested her head back against the wall and smiled up at the ceiling. “I’m so glad you know everything.”

  “I feel…” Mick smoothed a clammy hand across a jean-clad thigh. “I don’t know what I feel.”

  “Well I know you’ve got lots of questions.” Nile gave Mick’s hand a couple of quick squeezes. “There’s so much to talk about. I’m so glad Quest finally told you.”

  A silent moment passed and then Mick; still leaning against the wall, rolled her head over and frowned at Nile. “Quest?”

  “We all wanted him to tell you right away but he didn’t want to say anything at first and then…” Nile sighed completely thrilled by the turn of events. “I’m just glad he didn’t wait too long.”

  Mick gave Nile’s hand one last squeeze before pulling her own free. Drawing keys from the breast pocket on her worn denim jacket, she weighed the jangling mass of keys in her palm and then stood.

  “Michaela? Mick?” Confusion registered in Nile’s midnight stare as she watched Mick walk back to the elevator and disappear inside.

  ***

  Quest was more than grateful for his brother’s handling of the meeting that afternoon. He silently appraised Quay watching as the man addressed concerns during the Q&A portion of the conference. Quay had assumed the role as primary head of their land development division with the same aggressive charm he did everything else. Quest admitted had he known this, he’d have let Quay run the place single handedly long ago.

  Of course, Quest realized his twin hadn’t just been magically ready for the role. Many factors played a part- the greatest being his wife and sons. Tykira brought the importance- the meaning to his world and Quest could practically see the transformation Quay made to become a man worthy of such love. The twins Dinari and Dakari were the added blessings that continued to nourish Quay’s soul with everything good.

  Quest thought of his own family then. Michaela and Quincee had brought as much meaning to his life. He’d come alive when he found Mick and he couldn’t function without her. Now, there he was treating the one he couldn’t function without like she was less than nothing.

  What the hell am I thinking? He hissed silently and admitted he had no interest in sitting in a meeting when he should be home begging his wife to forgive his coldness. He was moving to stand from his chair and excuse himself when he saw Mick walk into the room, grab a vase from the credenza behind her and hurl it at his head.

  Someone screamed. The decorative porcelain piece missed Quest by mere inches and shattered against the glass encased map on the wall behind him.

  “Mick! What the hell?” Quay had recovered before anyone else.

  Mick only saw her husband through the rage in her exotic stare. “Hypocritical jackass,” she seethed, preparing to accomplish what the vase hadn’t.

  Quay’s reflexes kicked in and he pulled Mick back against him before she charged for his brother. She struggled like a wild cat, her curls flaying wildly about her face and partially shielding her furious glare.

  “Get off me!” Her elbow connected with Quay’s muscled abs to emphasize her order.

  Quay grunted but kept his hold firm on her arms.

  “Get off me dammit!”

  “Mick what-”

  “Get the hell off me Quay!”

  Folding an arm about her waist, Quay lifted his sister-in-law clear off the floor and turned to the fourteen people who stood stunned around the conference table.

  “Everyone, I’m afraid we’re gonna have to adjourn the meeting a little early.” He addressed the speechless onlookers as though there were nothing extraordinary about him restraining the infuriated woman in his arms. “You’ll all receive an email about rescheduling. We’ll talk soon. Good night.”

  The group wasted no time setting out. Quaysar Ramsey’s temper could make a grown man wet his pants but it was nothing next to his twin’s. Quest had yet to move or speak.

  Quay waited for the room to clear of the execs before he carried Mick to the conference table and perched her on the edge. He patted her knee in a reassuring gesture.

  “Now baby just calm down and tell-”

  Mick simply slammed her fists into Quay’s chest. Wild and still fully enraged, she scrambled down the long table intent on reaching her husband. She got there before Quay could stop her. Her hands curled into the collar of Quest’s shirt and she slapped him full and hard.

  “Lying bastard! How could you do that?! How could you?!”

  “Jesus Mick! Q, what the hell?!” Quay cried once again pulling Michaela back against him and frowning over the way his brother just sat there looking uncertain and well…terrified.

  As Quay held onto her denim jacket, Mick shrugged herself out of the garment and took advantage of her momentary freedom. She’d scrambled halfway back down the table before Quay caught her again.

  “Mick dammit now! Calm down, calm down, come on…come on…that’s it.” Quay pressed a kiss to the top of her head as her struggles ceased. “Now please tell us what’s wrong?”

  “Why don’t you ask your jackass of a brother?” Mick stopped straining but her chest heaved rapidly beneath the red wash worn T-shirt she sported.

  “Q?!” Quay fixed his brother with a bewildered look. It unsettled him more than he realized to see an equally bewildered look reflected on his brother’s face. Squeezing Mick closer, he nudged his cheek against hers. “Sweetie is this about the book?” Quay prepared to receive another blow to his gut. Surprise registered on his dark face when the sound of her laughter filled the room.

  This laugh however held a wicked intensity that matched the glazed fury in the stare turned on Quest.

  “The book…” she purred and settled back into her brother-in-law’s embrace. “I really don’t know about the book Quay. This horse’s ass hasn’t said a damn thing to me since he found out.” She shrugged, her mouth curving into a scathing smirk. “But then I guess writing a book you were ordered not to write is so much worse than hiding the truth about someone’s mother.”

  Quay looked at Quest whose expression sharpened with understanding.

  “Hmph,” Mick grunted.

  “Q?” Quay whispered.

  “Q?” Mick parroted.

  Quest’s gray stare raked his wife�
�s tiny frame in disbelief. “Let her go.” He told Quay and finally left the chair he’d been glued to. There was no movement and he nodded toward his twin. “Let go of her.” His voice held a bit more steel then.

  Mick left Quay’s side when he released her but she didn’t race over to inflict more pain on her husband.

  “You can go Quay.” Quest said.

  Unnerved more than he could ever remember being, Quay hesitated. Mick turned with freshly stoked fire in her eyes and propped fists to her hips while waiting on him to obey.

  Quay hooked a thumb across his shoulder. “I’ll just um…” he began a slow retreat toward the conference room door. He spotted the copy of Royal Ramsey and carried it with him on his way to the elevators.

  In the conference area, Quest and Mick circled one another like caged animals. Actually, it was Michaela who circled. Quest stood there on edge and waited to be attacked again.

  “You know?” He asked.

  Mick folded her arms over her chest. “Damn straight.”

  “How?”

  “Oh don’t worry; no one disobeyed your orders not to tell me.” With a sneer marring her lovely dark face, she strolled closer. “So who exactly were the members of your inner circle? Moses most likely. I never could get him to call me back on Charlton Browning a.k.a. Cufi Muhammad, right? I’m sure.” She confirmed her own suspicions and sent Quest a saucy wink before turning her back on him. “Nile knew which probably means Taurus does too. Who else?”

  “Mick-”

  “Who else?!”

  “Fernando.”

  Mick’s eyes were narrowed to thin amber slits when she looked at him. “And County?”

  When Quest’s gaze faltered, she closed the distance.

  “And County?” She grabbed a wad of his shirt.