~PROLOGUE~

 

 

Savannah, Georgia~

 

Quest Ramsey’s gray stare darkened to black as it often did whenever he suffered a bout of frustration. That night, a hotel room door was at the root of his foul mood. He muttered a sharp curse and tried again to push open the door that stubbornly refused to give. Following a few firm nudges from his shoulder, the door opened just a crack. Quest’s mouth twisted into a grimace then. Given the circumstances, a hotel room door that would not open most often meant there was either a drunken body or a couple of lovers passed out before it.

Quest rolled his eyes and braced his shoulder next to the mahogany door once again. Using a bit more of his considerable strength, he was able to force the door open a tad wider. The obstruction, whatever it was, moved aside just slightly and Quest managed to angle his six-foot plus frame inside the room.

It didn’t take long to solve the mystery of the blocked door. A tall, potted fern tree had been knocked to the floor, creating the impediment. Another curse passed Quest’s lips when he noticed the tree’s cracked porcelain planter and the dirt spilling from it. The white, furry carpeting was now thoroughly black and marked by shoe prints of the numerous party guests.

Moving on, Quest continued his inspection of the room. Aside from the broken planter and spilled dirt, there seemed to be no other cause for alarm. The spacious eleventh-floor suite of the Forman Hotel was littered with plastic cups, beer bottles and soiled ashtrays- the usual. Food wrappers filled the wastebaskets and cluttered around the base. Quest’s long lashes fluttered in relief as his inspection turned up no signs of holes in the walls or light fixtures that were torn from their places.

“Better than usual,” Quest noted sourly, acknowledging the fact that the ‘usual’ usually consisted of far worse and far more costly mishaps. In truth, a party given by Quaysar Ramsey most often resulted in an unfortunate hotel staff member preparing for months of renovating.

“Where the hell is that fool?” Quest inquired of the empty room, his deep-set gaze scanning the area for any sign of his brother. The place appeared deserted: there wasn’t even music playing. Still, something told Quest there was more to see.

“Damn it, Quay!” he bellowed, his expression turning fierce when he’d moved on and discovered the state of the living room. It wasn’t the food ground into the floor, or even the wine-splattered and overturned sofa and armchairs that had elicited his outburst. Instead, Quest’s eyes, now a bottomless black, were focused on the balcony door with the glass shattered from its panes as they barely clung to their hinges.

Quest approached the massacred doors. Shaking his head, he winced at every sound of crunching glass beneath his Adidas. Quest stood surveying the damage, unable to form even one curse or admonishment toward his brother who had gone so far as to get down on his knees while swearing to him that nothing like this would happen.

Quest wondered what the punishment would be to Quay, or to himself for that matter. After all, he’d allowed his twin to talk him into booking the hotel in his name. Their parents, Damon and Catrina, had all but told Quay that his next screwup would result in time away from home.

Needless to say, Quest and Quaysar were more than a little fearful of what that threat would entail. Quest blinked then, bringing himself back into the present. Loud voices and what sounded like screams beckoned his attention below. Slowly, he crossed the balcony and inched forward to peer over the dented rail. How the hell did those fools dent an iron ledge? He wondered.

Quest wouldn’t have time to ponder that little item, as his eyes and attention were now focused below. Horror and fascination emerged on his handsome dark face as he realized the cause for the raised voices and commotion below. He watched a growing crowd gather around the nude body of a woman on the sidewalk. Even from a distance, he could see the crimson pooling around her body. He knew she had come from the ledge, the ledge from the room in his name. Stunned by the sight and dizzy from the questions racing through his mind, he backed away from the rail.

As he turned toward the room again, his eyes began to survey the suite with fresh intensity. His feet felt as though they were attached to hundred-pound weights as he retraced his steps. Soon, he was in the master bedroom.

“Quay?” Quest called out, seeing his brother lying in the center of a massive four-poster bed. Absently, he noted his twin was naked with only a sheet barely covering his privates.

Quest didn’t bother to call out to Quaysar again. He’d spotted the empty gin bottle cradled in the crook of his brother’s arm and knew he had passed out. The bed gave as Quest lost what strength was left in his legs and had to sit on the ledge. Completely dazed, he stared unseeingly past the bedroom door. He could still hear the screaming.