Remember Ramsey by Cynthia Eden
Chapter Eleven
Observation notes: Ramsey’s world is made of secrets. Dangerous secrets. Sometimes, I wish that he’d tell me all of the secrets he keeps.
Other times, I think I’m better off not knowing because I suspect some of his secrets will terrify me.
***
“It’s not good for us to meet up. Too many government agencies are after my ass right now. Being popular sucks.” Cyrus Hendrix—former spy and current cyber gun for hire—took the backpack from Ramsey and frowned at it. “Seriously? You didn’t think to use something a little less conspicuous? There’s probably a cop or a Fed with a camera snapping a pic of us right now and thinking she just got herself proof of a drug deal or major crime exchange.”
“No one is snapping a pic. Calm your nervous ass down.”
Cyrus slung the pack over one shoulder. “I am totally calm.”
Ramsey glanced toward the sky.
“So…your girlfriend had a fire at her place.”
His stare jerked back to Cyrus. “What do you know about it?”
“I heard chatter. You know chatter is my thing. Cops don’t seem to have many leads yet, but I’m thinking you probably have a few ideas.”
He did. “Call me when the files are recovered.”
Cyrus shook his head mournfully. “That’s it? You don’t want to know how my life is going? Don’t want to thank me for the previous help I gave you? Don’t want to—” He broke off. Frowned. “You look angry. Bad morning?”
“I helped you. When the government agency you worked for wanted to throw you to the wolves, I’m the one who gave you protection. I’m the one who financed your work.” A reminder Cyrus shouldn’t need.
“Oh, come on, you know I made you a ton of money, too—”
“I’m the one who helped you clear your name. I did all that shit from behind the scenes. No one knows that we are connected. I want it to stay that way.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows rose. “Then maybe you should stop asking to meet with me…”
Ramsey growled.
“Jeez, man, I am kidding. Kidding—”
Something heavy hit the closed door of the bar. A very loud thud.
Cyrus’s eyes widened. “I swear, I was not followed. You know I watch my back.”
More thudding. Heavy and hard.
“Not the cops,” Ramsey murmured as he moved behind the long bar counter and reached under it for the weapon he’d put there. “They would have just stormed in by now.” He jerked his head to the side. “Get your ass out the back way. Let me know what you recover, ASAP.”
But Cyrus hesitated. “What about the, ah, other matter?”
“You mean the fact that some prick used my bar when he made those rose orders for Whitney? I’m on it.” Low. Lethal.
Cyrus swallowed. “Yes, yes, I am sure you are.”
More thudding. Then… “Ramsey!” A bellow. “I know you’re in there! Don’t make me break this door down.”
Oh, he’d like to see the asshole try.
Cyrus gave an almost soundless whistle. “You bring out the best in people, don’t you?”
“I do try. Go.”
Cyrus went.
Ramsey slid the gun under the back waistband of his jeans, and he pulled his shirt down to cover it. He took his time walking toward the door. The bangs and thuds continued. He also heard…
“You could help!” An annoyed snarl from the guy banging outside his place.
Ramsey unlocked the door.
War Channing stood there, with his fists raised, glaring at him.
And Jinx was just a few feet behind War.
Ramsey slowly let his gaze sweep over the two men. When War had snarled, “You could help!”—obviously, he’d been talking to Jinx.
After a tense moment, Ramsey gave them both a cold smile. “Thanks for coming to my door. Saved me the trouble of hunting your asses down.”
He and War had clashed more than a few times. The guy was one of those annoyingly upright types. Freaking Captain America. Or, as Ramsey liked to think of him…Captain Asshole.
“My car was stolen,” War gritted out. “My precious baby was taken, and I want the fucker who did it caught just as much as you do.”
“First, you have an unhealthy attachment to your ride.” Granted, the classic 67 Impala was a thing of beauty, but… “You’re recently married, War. How about directing some of that feverish attention of yours to your lovely bride, hmm? Unless you have some, shall we say, performance issues—”
“Don’t worry about my wife—”
Jinx stepped between them. “This is going as well as I’d hoped.” His smile seemed strained. “How about we take things inside?”
Ramsey didn’t move. “I don’t think so.”
Jinx rolled his eyes. “Stop being an ass. You obviously don’t believe War is the bad guy or you would have already had him on the ground.”
True.
But War sniffed. “I would like to see him try.”
Ah, now that was just too tempting. Ramsey’s muscles tensed as he got ready to lay out this SOB—
“No.” Jinx’s firm voice. “Don’t do it, Ram. We are here for business, not so you can play.”
Dammit. Jinx was always trying to stop his fun. But Ramsey spun and marched back into the bar because this was a conversation that should be held in private.
The door slammed shut behind the other men. Ramsey didn’t bother glancing back because he knew Jinx would lock it.
“For the record,” War’s rumbling voice announced, “I would never do anything to hurt Whitney Augustine. I get that you don’t much like me, but I’m not some hardened criminal. I don’t get my kicks by going around terrorizing people and—”
Ramsey slowly turned to face War. “Oh, that’s right. You’re describing me.” He held War’s stare. “Because I very much get kicks from terrorizing people. Especially if those people have tried to hurt a woman who belongs to me.”
Jinx hurried toward him. Worry flashed over his face. “Are you keeping your shit together? Or are you planning some bloody rampage?”
Obviously, Jinx thought option two was occurring, or else he wouldn’t have been there with War.
“We found the car,” War said flatly. “No way would I have let my baby be so unprotected that I didn’t have a way to track her in case she was stolen. I was, ah, distracted last night when someone took her.”
Ramsey could read between the lines. “You were fucking your new wife. Got it.”
War’s hands fisted. “Watch it.”
Ah, so War was protective of Rose. Good to know. Ramsey always liked to know which buttons to push with his enemies and—
Fucking hell. The realization slammed into him…Rose was War’s weakness. Just as Whitney was Ramsey’s. There were some things that should be off-limits. Some people. Always. Ramsey locked his back teeth. “My apologies. I will not be bringing up Rose again.”
War blinked at him. “Are you screwing with me?”
“Trust me, that is the last thing on my agenda.”
Jinx squinted and searched Ramsey’s eyes, then Jinx even tried to put a hand to Ramsey’s forehead. “Are you feeling all right? Should I call a doctor?”
Ramsey shoved him away. “I don’t have time for this shit.”
“You apologized to War. You don’t apologize to anyone.” He looked back at War. “Call an ambulance.”
War was squinting at Ramsey, too. “You sick, bro?”
And this was why he thought they were both assholes. “Tell me about your car and then get the hell out of my place.”
“Okay.” Jinx exhaled heavily. “He sounds better now. Good.”
“You’re wasting my damn time.” Time he didn’t have to waste.
War held up one hand. “We got the car. Found it abandoned near the public beach.”
“How great for you. Sure you’re thrilled to have your baby back.”
War’s jaw hardened. “I know a few things that might help in your hunt.”
Why the hell didn’t War just spit out the details? Did it look as if Ramsey was in the mood to be left in suspense?
“I’ve got top notch security on my ride. That goes without saying. This guy was a professional. He got into my car and away from my place without making a sound. When I realized the car was gone, I tracked her movements. She went straight to Whitney’s place and then he dumped the car at the beach. Choosing my ride was deliberate. This guy wanted you to take out your wrath on me.” A pause. “The car thief wanted you at my throat. He knows you hate me, and he was hoping to set up a scene where you’d come at me with guns blazing.”
Ramsey slowly removed the gun from the waistband of his jeans. He stared at the weapon.
The tension around him seemed to ratchet up.
He put the gun on a nearby table. “I’m looking for a professional car thief.” Because he had no doubt that an amateur wouldn’t have gotten away with War’s ride. “I’m also looking for a bastard who likes playing with fire.” Rage burned through him. “Whitney could have been hurt when he torched her place. Maybe he was trying to cause a battle between you and me, but he made a fatal mistake when he pulled her into the mix.”
“There were no prints in my car. Already checked. Looks like everything has been wiped down.”
No, a professional wouldn’t leave any evidence behind.
In order to hire a professional for a job like that…well, there was really one main place in town you’d go to find the best.
Ramsey glanced around his bar.
Fucking hell.
“Yeah…” Jinx cleared his throat. “Want to tell me what’s going through your head right now? Because it looks like you’re ready to kill.”
“Funny you should say that…” Ramsey returned. “Because I am.” He pointed to the door. “Gentlemen, time for you to get the hell out. I have business that needs my attention.”
***
“Deviant behavior often captures human interest because we want to know what motivates individuals to act outside of the norm. Why do these people choose to violate our social rules? What drives them? Is the behavior addictive? Thrilling?” Whitney stared into the auditorium full of students. She was far too conscious of Jag lounging in the third row, with his eyes on her. “Why are true crimes shows so popular? Why do we avidly tune in to watch fictional shows like Dexter when we know the bad guy is dangerous and a killer? Why are we drawn to these—”
“Why?” Jag called out.
There was a quick twitter of laughter from the group of coeds who’d picked seats close to him. The girls had been eyeing him all during class and very much not listening to Whitney.
She hadn’t realized that he’d be participating in the discussion but…
Why?
“Because sometimes, we’re all fascinated by darkness.” A glance at the clock told her the class was due to end. “With that in mind, be sure to finish your readings on Ted Bundy. He was captured not too far from our location, and I expect you to be fully able to discuss his case when you arrive in class next week.”
Everyone began to file out.
Whitney noticed that one of the blond girls stopped to slide a piece of paper toward Jag. He pocketed it without even glancing at what she’d written.
Shaking her head, Whitney packed up her gear. That had been her last class of the morning. Her afternoon was slated for prep work and test grading, but she was probably going to let all of that slide because she was dying to find Ramsey and see what he’d learned.
“You could be the topic of your own lecture.” Jag had ambled toward her. His hands were shoved into the back pockets of his jeans. “You’re a real-life crime story, aren’t you? The big survivor.”
She swallowed and fiddled with the notes at her podium. “For years, I talked about victims. It doesn’t feel quite real to be one.” It felt as if everything had happened to someone else. Mostly because she didn’t even remember the attack. She just remembered being in the water. Choking. Drowning…
Some of the note cards flew from her fingers.
She bent to pick them up. So did Jag. His fingers brushed over hers.
Startled, her gaze jerked up to his.
“You should be real careful with the dark,” he murmured. “It’s not as safe as you think. He’s not.”
Her lips parted.
“What the fuck are you doing? I told you to watch her,” Ramsey’s voice snarled. “Not try to hold her damn hand.”
Jag immediately sprang upright. “I was just—I was getting her cards—”
Ramsey stood a few feet behind him. He raised an eyebrow.
Whitney scooped up the cards before straightening. She tried to ignore the pang of unease that Jag’s words had created within her. Why had he been warning her away from Ramsey? They were friends.
“Got all your cards?” Ramsey asked her in a silken voice.
She managed a nod.
“Good.” He stalked toward her. Slid his hand under her chin and tipped back her head. Then his mouth brushed over hers.
They shouldn’t be kissing in public. What if they were spotted by one of the students? Not that she minded. Let them see. But he’d always wanted them to be careful, to keep their physical relationship hidden while they were in public.
How did I know that?
But she let the thought slip away because his tongue had just thrust past her lips and heat was flooding through her body. He could do that so effortlessly. Just kiss her and make her want him and that was so very—
Dangerous.
You should be real careful with the dark. It’s not as safe as you think. He’s not.
Ramsey slowly lifted his head. Her lashes rose, and she stared up at him. Not looking away from her, he asked, “Any trouble today?”
“Ah, no. No, boss.” Jag coughed. “Nothing odd so far.”
“Good. I’ll have her the rest of the day. You’re relieved, Jag.”
Her gaze darted to Jag. He didn’t waste any time rushing out of the door—or getting past the very large, very intense-looking man who stood just to the right of the door.
The rest of the auditorium was empty. Just her, Ramsey, and the stranger.
Though, perhaps he wasn’t a stranger. Something about him nagged at her…
I hate this! I hate feeling like I should know things when I don’t! “Who is he?” Whitney asked.
Ramsey stepped back. “Darius. He’s spent the morning with the cops, and I asked him to meet me here so that we could go over what he learned. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a lot.”
She offered the watchful man a tentative smile. “Hello, Darius. It’s nice to meet you.”
She could tell by the sudden tenseness of his expression that, yep, they’d met before. But instead of correcting her, he just inclined his head and said, “The pleasure is mine. Not every day you get to talk with the woman who makes Ramsey lose his mind.”
“I haven’t lost it,” Ramsey muttered. “Yet.”
Darius headed toward them. “The cops don’t have jack. They did retrieve security footage from a neighbor, but the man who torched your house was wearing a ski mask. No way to ID him.”
That wasn’t what she’d been hoping to hear. Her gaze darted back to Ramsey. “What about the leads you were running down?”
He seemed to hesitate.
“Ramsey?” He’d better not even think of holding out on her.
“Let’s just say they turned out to be dead ends.”
Well, dammit.
“Are you ready to leave?” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was so gentle. Disarming.
“I…ah, I need to get a few things from my office, then I’ll be ready.” It was Friday. She’d take off early, grade the papers at home—or, not, since her home was a crime scene. I’ll grade the papers at his place. “Maybe I can help you track down some leads,” she suggested. “I’m actually quite good at understanding criminals.”
Darius gave a bark of laughter. “Obviously.”
Ramsey cut him a glare. “Seriously? Now you want to be a comedian?”
“I think I’ll just…” Darius coughed into his hand. “I’ll go see what kind of security is working at this place. Make sure the people in charge know just how important Dr. Augustine’s safety is.” He turned on his heel—a very brisk, almost military-like move—and marched away.
“The people in charge know safety is important,” Whitney said. “They’ve recently beefed up all the security here, so I can assure you, I don’t need bodyguards.”
Ramsey leaned forward and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “Humor me?”
“Fine. But you have to agree to let me help you track down leads. I’ll humor you, and you let me help you. Deal?”
His eyes gleamed. “Deal.” His hand lowered. Twined with hers.
And they walked through the busy hallways like that. With their hands linked together as if they were a couple. More than a few curious students glanced their way and she could catch whispers every few moments…
“Dr. A has a hot guy.”
“Wonder if Dr. A gets deviant with him? I totally would.”
Her cheeks heated.
Ramsey just laughed and brought their joined hands to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll get deviant with you all night long, sweetheart.”
“Ramsey!” His voice had been loud. Way too loud.
But he…laughed.
And she stopped. Her feet rooted to the floor as her head swung toward him. She stared at him, aware that her eyes had flared and her lips had parted. She was surprised her mouth hadn’t hit the floor.
A furrow appeared between his eyebrows. “What?”
“You laughed.”
A shrug.
“You never laugh.”
He leaned in close. “You remember?”
More and more. Bits and pieces. This truth…she just felt. “You’re always so sad. Making you smile always made me feel good.”
His laugh had seemed to warm something in her.
Once more, his lips took hers. This kiss was different. Sweet. Tender. “You make me feel good,” he rasped.
She pretty much bolted for her office because he was making her feel far too good right then, too, and she wanted to get him behind closed doors and away from gaping college kids. She wanted to kiss him hard and deep and see if having him pressed tightly against her could banish some of the cold fear she’d felt all morning.
They hustled by the intern who was manning the reception desk. His eyebrows shot up as she flew past. “Hey, Dr. Augustine, you got—”
“Doc’s busy right now,” Ramsey growled back.
Then they were in her office. He kicked the door shut and just—pounced.
No other word for it. He reached for her, pulled her against him, and, this time, when his mouth took hers, the rest of the world seemed to fall away. The kiss was hot and frantic and intense, and her body rubbed eagerly against him as she tried to get closer and closer.
His fingers curled around her hips. He lifted her up. Carried her. And she felt the hard edge of wood beneath her when he put her on her desk. His mouth never left hers and, if anything, the kiss became even more possessive and primal. He positioned his body between her legs, and since she’d been wearing a loose, flowing dress, his movement pushed the skirt of that dress up to her thighs and gave him easy access to—
“Ramsey!” Her mouth tore from his. Her hands clutched his shoulders as her heart thundered in her chest. Holy crap, she was pretty sure they’d been about ten seconds away from having sex on her desk.
His gaze blazed down at her, dark with need.
Maybe not ten. Maybe more like five seconds…
One of his hands was on her thigh. He’d pushed up the edge of her skirt, and his callused fingertips were on her skin.
“We can’t…not here,” she whispered.
“We can…anywhere,” he corrected in a voice like rough sex.
Her body quivered. “Was it always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Like you touch me and nothing else seems to matter.”
“You are the only thing that matters.” His hand lifted from her thigh. Moved toward her stomach. Hesitated. Didn’t touch her. “You and the baby.” His gaze swirled with so many emotions. “Can I feel you?”
You can do anything you want with me.She pressed her lips together and managed to not blurt out that ever too embarrassing and revealing truth. When it came to Ramsey, she was at a serious disadvantage. Her body kept betraying her. It was obvious that while her mind had forgotten him, her body hadn’t. Her body had been longing for him all along.
“Whitney?”
Her head moved in the faintest of nods.
His hand lowered over the small curve of her stomach. Her pregnancy wasn’t obvious, not with the loose clothing she kept wearing. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. She had to blink quickly when the expression on his face changed. His fierce expression softened, and he leaned closer to her.
His lips brushed over her ear as he promised, “I will do whatever it takes to protect you both.”
A shiver slid over her.
And her office door flew open.
A warm voice exclaimed, “Didn’t Jason tell you that I was waiting to see you?” A quick rush of steps. “Come on, Whitney, I can’t believe you didn’t call me and tell me—” The voice broke off.
A familiar voice. A voice that belonged to Whitney’s best friend, Maisey Bright.
Maisey…who was involved in an ever-so-hot-and-heavy way with Odin Shaw at Trouble for Hire.
Ramsey didn’t jerk away at Maisey’s interruption. His body tensed, but he took his time easing back. And before he moved from his position in front of Whitney, his hand snaked out to pull her skirt back down to cover her thighs.
Then he eased to the side, positioning his body near Whitney’s. “Hello, Maisey,” he said in a cool-as-can-be voice. As if Whitney’s skirt hadn’t been tossed high and they hadn’t been frantic moments before. “I was wondering when I’d be seeing you again.”
Shock was clear on Maisey’s face. “Ramsey.”
He nodded. “The one and only.”
Maisey glanced back and forth between them with speculation clear to see in her eyes. “You two are together again?”
Wait…Maisey had known about their involvement?
“Oh, no.” Maisey put her hands on her hips. “Do not look at me that way, Whit. You kept him secret from me. I just found out bits and pieces when you went missing.”
“But you did know I was involved with him.” She couldn’t have this conversation while she sat on the desk. Awkward. “Why didn’t you say something?” Whitney hopped off the desk.
“Why didn’t you tell me that your house was torched last night?” Worry filled Maisey’s voice. “I had to hear it from Odin!” She bounded forward and grabbed Whitney’s hands. “Are you okay?” Her gaze swept over Whitney. “You look okay, but you must have been terrified! And, of course, you can’t stay at your place while the cops are investigating. You can come and stay with me and Odin and—”
“No.” Ramsey’s low voice cut right through her words.
Maisey jerked her head toward him. “Not your call. If I remember correctly, you were the one walking away at the hospital. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t get any say in Whitney’s life. She’s my friend, and I’m going to—”
“I’m not staying with you and Odin.” Whitney was amazed by how steady her own voice was. “But thank you for the offer. And the reason I didn’t call to tell you about what happened…” She raked a hand through her hair. “It was late. Ramsey rushed me out of the fire and took me to his place, and…” And we had sex. Super amazing sex. I didn’t think about calling you because everything seemed to be happening at one hundred miles an hour.
“Ramsey got you out of the fire?” Maisey’s bracelets jingled as she pointed toward him. “He saved you?”
“I can do more than just be your friendly neighborhood asshole,” Ramsey murmured.
Maisey slanted him a suspicious glance. “How did you happen to be at her house that late?”
Whitney’s lips parted. She hadn’t told Maisey about the baby.
“The usual way,” Ramsey replied easily. “I went to see her because I want her.”
Okay, so…
“Well, that explains the rose,” Maisey’s hand dropped. The bracelets jingled again. “I saw it on her desk when I was in here looking for her earlier. As soon as I spied it, I started to wonder if the two of you were a thing again.”
Now she was lost. “What rose?” Whitney asked.
“Uh, the one in the middle of your desk. You were like two inches away from it a moment ago. You must have seen it.”
No, she hadn’t seen it because she hadn’t been looking at her desk. She’d been focused on Ramsey. They’d rushed inside the office and gone right at each other. Now her head slowly turned, and she saw the single rose sitting in a clear glass vase on her desk. “Ramsey?”
“Not from me, sweetheart.” She could hear the rage in his voice.
The rose had not been there before she’d gone to her lectures. She pushed past Ramsey and hustled into the reception area.
Jason was just slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder. He glanced up and gave her a quick smile.
She didn’t smile back. “I had a flower delivery.”
“Uh, yeah, you did. I was trying to tell you about it when you flew by my desk.”
“Who delivered the rose?” Ramsey thundered.
Jason flinched. “Oh, no. Is this like…a lover’s quarrel kind of thing? Because I have a rule about not getting involved in personal situations like—”
“Who. Delivered. It?”
Whitney was sure that Ramsey’s voice would probably make small children—and potentially grown men—cry.
“Oh, hell.” All the color drained from Jason’s face. “I’m in trouble.”
Ramsey grabbed for him.
Whitney caught Ramsey’s arm. Hauled him close. “Give him a chance to talk, Ramsey.”
“Yes, yes, let me talk.” Jason’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “It was just—just some guy in a black coat. Tall, muscled. Shaggy blond hair that fell over his eyes. He said that he had a delivery and asked me to put it in her office. I swear, I thought it was no big deal. Everyone knew that Dr. A used to get roses delivered here all the time—”
Ramsey’s body went rock hard against her.
Her head turned. “Ramsey? You know who it was?”
“Could someone please tell me what is going on?” Maisey demanded.
But…there were footsteps rushing toward them. More people coming to join their little party. When Whitney turned her head, she saw a woman in a black suit and shiny, no-nonsense, black flats storming toward them. A cop in uniform trailed her.
A badge was clipped to the woman’s hip. Her gaze zeroed in on Whitney, then darted to Ramsey. Recognition filled her stare.
“Dr. Whitney Augustine?” The woman halted near her. “I’m Detective Melissa Wright. I need you to come with me to the station and answer some questions.”
Ramsey immediately moved to position his body in front of Whitney. “She’s not going anywhere without me.”
“Wonderful…Ramsey. I was so hoping you’d say that.” She smiled at him. And it was a chilling smile. “Because you’re wanted for questioning as well.” Her brow furrowed. “I’m assuming you still have your lawyer on retainer? And she’ll meet us at the station, as per her usual routine?”
Whitney’s temples throbbed. “What is happening? Is this about my house? Because I’m happy to answer any questions you—”
“It’s not about your house, sweetheart,” Ramsey rumbled. “And it would be better if we waited for my lawyer before we say anything else.”
She could only shake her head.
“I should have clarified,” Melissa noted with an inclination of her head. “I’m a homicide detective, Dr. Augustine.”
Homicide? She’d talked with plenty of the cops down at the station, but Whitney didn’t recall meeting Melissa Wright.
Big shocker. Maybe I met her in that six months that I can’t remember…
“Do you know a Ronald Rudolph, Dr. Augustine?”
“I—”
“Wait for the lawyer,” Ramsey told her. His eyes glittered. He’d fired a text to someone on his phone. Probably the lawyer.
Whitney’s heart drummed faster as she shared a fearful glance with Maisey.
“Ramsey…” Melissa drawled out his name. “I can’t help but notice you’ve got some bruises on your knuckles.”
Whitney glanced down. Ramsey did have bruising on his knuckles. The skin was black and bluish.
“Want to tell me how that happened?” Melissa asked sweetly.
He didn’t speak.
“I don’t suppose,” she continued in that same sweet tone, “that you got those bruises when you were beating Ronald Rudolph to death?”
OhmyGod. Whitney started to sway. Ramsey immediately wrapped his hands around her. His bruised hands.
His gaze locked on hers, and she could hear Jag’s strange warning whispering through her mind.
You should be real careful with the dark. It’s not as safe as you think. He’s not.
