The Edge of Dominance: DOMS OF HER LIFE: Raine Falling (Book 4)

by Shayla Black

  Ignoring the authorities’ prying eyes, he pulled out his cell phone, desperate for an update about Raine. After they’d watched her collapse in Liam’s arms, the bastards driving the squad car had refused to stop so he could see if she was all right. Thankfully, Liam had already assured Hammer that their girl was fine. Emotional distress had merely gotten the better of her for a moment. Still, Hammer wouldn’t rest easy until he was back home with her in his arms. But now, he could only wait.

  For someone to stroll into the room and grill him.

  For his lawyer, Sterling Barnes, to slide into the chair beside him and keep this interrogation from going south.

  For some resolution to this shit storm.

  Macen wished he and Liam had throttled River Kendall when they’d had the chance. Whatever the son of a bitch’s circumstantial evidence was, it must be incriminating as hell.

  Since even the truth would look damning, Hammer had to hope that mercy and justice would prevail.

  He wanted to pace but remained seated, staring at a fixed point on the table in front of him. It tested his control, but if he gave the goons on the other side of the glass any indication he was going stir crazy, they would only isolate him longer, try to unhinge him.

  When the door finally opened, two plainclothes detectives entered, one tall and thin, the other short and balding. Hammer quickly sized them up. No-nonsense types. Good, he wasn’t in the mood to play games.

  “Macen Daniel Hammerman?” the taller detective asked with a cordial smile.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Detective Winslow. This is Detective Cameron. Thank you for coming in so promptly.”

  “I wasn’t aware I had a choice,” Hammer drawled.

  The balding man, Cameron, smirked.

  “As a formality, I need to read you your rights,” Winslow advised. “And inform you that this interview will be recorded.”

  While they Mirandized him, everything suddenly became terribly real. But Hammer mentally drew up his armor, refusing to let fear claw into him.

  “Do you understand these rights I have just read to you?” Winslow asked.

  “I do.”

  “With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak with us, Mr. Hammerman?”

  “Sure. Why not?” He shrugged nonchalantly.

  After the detectives recorded the usual preliminary jargon on tape, Winslow pulled out a stack of notes from a satchel.

  “Let’s cut to the chase, gentlemen. What is it you want to know?” Hammer prompted.

  “I understand you own a private sex club called Shadows. Is that correct?”

  “Not precisely, Detective Winslow. It’s not a sex club, but a private BDSM club. There’s a big difference.”

  “But members do have sex at your establishment, correct?” Cameron asked with a lewd gleam in his eyes.

  “If all participants are consenting and no one is at risk, it’s allowed. Come by sometime and see for yourself.”

  “No, thanks. I don’t need to beat my wife so she’ll sleep with me,” Cameron patronized.

  “Let’s move on,” Winslow directed. “Do you know a woman by the name of Raine Elise Kendall?”

  His gut tightened. “Yes.”

  “And what exactly is your relationship with her?”

  “Why?”

  “Because your last six years with her are pertinent to our investigation,” Winslow answered. “Some rather disturbing information has been brought to our attention that could result in your arrest.”

  Thanks so much, River, you fucking asswipe.

  “Such as?” Hammer slowly clenched his jaw.

  “Don’t play dumb,” Cameron sneered. “The officers who brought you in already advised you of some of the possible charges. You know, those pesky kidnapping, human trafficking, statutory rape, extortion allegations… There’s more if that’s not ringing a bell for you.”

  God, even more charges than they’d first mentioned.

  Hammer steeled himself. Six years ago, he’d taken Raine in from the alley behind his club, fully aware how his gesture would look to the outside world and that he could be prosecuted as a sex offender for doing nothing more than helping an abused girl find safety. But as the years had gone on, that possibility had grown distant. It certainly had been the furthest thing from his mind two hours ago when he’d been in the kitchen with Liam, balls deep inside Raine. He’d been sure of his future then, in command of his destiny, wrapped in love, believing that his biggest problems were all in his head.

  In a matter of seconds, all his bliss and hope for the future had been ripped away.

  Terror pulsed in his veins. Denial screamed in his head. He began to sweat. But Hammer forced himself to gird the walls concealing his fear.

  Sucking in a steadying breath, he arched a brow pointedly at Winslow. “Those are some serious allegations. Obviously, someone has made erroneous assumptions about my relationship with Ms. Kendall.” Hammer waved his hand dismissively. “What evidence do you have to substantiate such absurdity?”

  “Plenty,” Cameron sneered. “You wanted to cut to the chase, Mr. Hammerman. Let’s do that. We know that when Ms. Kendall was a minor, you bought and paid for her, like some pet you had bred for your pleasure. After her shit-sack father sold her to you, you moved her in to that club with you and raped her. You like having sex with little girls?”

  “I’ve never had any sexual contact with a minor.” Hammer didn’t elaborate. Anything could be twisted to incriminate him.

  Winslow continued. “According to our investigation, you also kept her prisoner at Shadows, pimping her out to guests and friends. Was Mr. O’Neill one of them? You all live together now. Isn’t that right?”

  Cameron leaned close and pinned Hammer with a lecherous gaze. “Then again, this wouldn’t be the first time you two shared pussy.”

  Hammer itched to reach across the table and rip the detective’s head off. Instead, he gave the man a brittle smile. “Sounds like you’ve already made your mind up. I’m through answering questions until my lawyer arrives.”

  “Yeah. You should definitely lawyer up, pal,” Cameron spat.

  The pair left. After an interminable twenty minutes, Sterling Barnes walked through the door. The detectives were right behind him.

  “Gentlemen, I’d like some time to confer with my client,” Sterling announced.

  After the dipshidiot duo left the room again, Hammer turned to his lawyer, dying to speak.

  Sterling shook his head. “We’re still being recorded.”

  “I know.” Hammer reeled off the litany of charges LA’s finest wanted to level against him. “I’ve never committed any of those crimes.”

  “If they had anything concrete, they would have already arrested, booked, and processed you. Let them finish their questioning, but don’t answer unless I nod. Maybe we can skate through this shit without getting our socks dirty.”

  “Fine.” Hammer swallowed. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Sterling spoke at the mirror. “We’re ready to begin, gentlemen.”

  Seconds later, Winslow and Cameron returned.

  The tall one started in first. “When did you first meet Ms. Kendall?”

  Sterling nodded.

  Six and a half years ago. Friday, August eleventh. “I don’t recall exactly.”

  “Where did you meet her?”

  Hiding in the alley behind Shadows. “I don’t recall that, either.”

  “How old was she?” Cameron demanded.

  Sterling intervened. “You’ve basically answered that. Don’t repeat yourself.”

  Hammer just smiled. “Next?”

  Winslow narrowed his eyes. “How old was she the first time you took her to bed?”

  His lawyer shook his head at that question, too.

  Last November fourth, three short months ago. God, he’d wanted her for so long. “Can we step this up? I’d like to go home.”

  But that wasn’t happening anytime soon. The hours ticked by lik
e days, and it seemed as if there was no end in sight. Hammer soon realized the two officers wouldn’t be satisfied until they’d nailed him to the wall.

  “In a rough estimation, Mr. Hammerman, how many sex partners would you say you’ve had in the last…oh, I don’t know…since your wife committed suicide?”

  “Irrelevant to the charges, Winslow.” Sterling shook his head in disgust. “Don’t answer that, Macen.”

  “Was your late wife younger than you, Mr. Hammerman? Was she the first child you molested?” Cameron quipped.

  “I already told you, I’ve never had sexual contact with a minor.” Even when he’d been a minor himself, he’d seduced grown women left and right. But clearly these two clowns thought they were going to mindfuck him. Amateurs. “I was a year older than Juliette. She was twenty when we married. But I think it’s interesting you assume I had a child bride. Do your questions stem from your own personal experience?”

  Cameron sent Macen an arctic glare. “You and your late wife didn’t have children? Not even a little girl for you to practice on?”

  “Why would you think that?” Hammer quizzed. “Is that what you do with your daughters?”

  Sterling cleared his throat. “We’re all quite aware that Mr. Hammerman has no dependents.”

  “Well, none that have been born yet,” Winslow added with a sly smile. “Rumor is, Ms. Kendall is pregnant.”

  “How many times did you have to force her to have sex with you before she conceived? Or did your pal, O’Neill, knock her up? I bet you’re holding out hope for a little girl so you can repeat the cycle,” Cameron jabbed.

  “That isn’t even a viable question,” Barnes objected.

  “What types of sexual acts do you most often engage in, Mr. Hammerman?” Winslow asked. “Strictly the ménage à trois? Or is Ms. Kendall a third to your homosexual relationship with Mr. O’Neill? Are you an equal-opportunity kind of pervert?”

  When Winslow succumbed to Cameron’s level of character assassination, Hammer felt as if he’d scored a victory. In fact, he couldn’t help but chuckle as Sterling laid his hand on Hammer’s arm and shook his head.

  “I think they only brought me here to ask about my sex life because theirs are lacking,” Macen drawled.

  “At the moment, that’s how it sounds,” his lawyer agreed before turning his attention to the two detectives. “If you’re quite finished wasting my client’s time, we’ll leave now so you can utilize this room for real criminals.”

  “Not yet.” Winslow smiled and pulled out a stack of papers from a nearby file folder before spreading them over the table like a deck of cards.

  Hammer went cold.

  He recognized his own handwriting instantly. Each page represented a copy of a money order he’d written to Bill Kendall to stay the fuck away from Raine. Over six years’ worth of payments stared him in the face.

  He could imagine exactly how this would be construed, and he struggled to think of a plausible explanation. Even the truth could land him in prison.

  Hammer’s guts twisted. His heart raced.

  “These money orders look familiar?” Winslow taunted, his eyes lighting up like a cat ready to devour a mouse. “All summed, it’s a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. What could a man like Bill Kendall possibly possess that would entice you to pay him such a large sum of money? His daughter, perhaps?”

  Macen felt as if the walls were closing in around him. The air thinned. His suit suddenly felt tight. Even his skin seemed to shrink, as if he needed to shed it like a snake. He reached up and loosened his tie.

  “As your attorney, I’m advising you to ignore that question, too.”

  “Good, I’d rather not dignify it with an answer,” Hammer countered.

  “What were you paying Bill Kendall for, Mr. Hammerman?” Winslow pressed. “A nice, juicy virgin?”

  “Obviously, you know the going rate. I don’t have a clue since I’m not in the habit of buying sex partners.” Macen ground his teeth together.

  “Was he blackmailing you?” Cameron tossed out. “I’ll bet Bill Kendall was holding all your immoral and unnatural proclivities over your head.”

  “You mean because he was such a fine, upstanding citizen himself?” Macen couldn’t resist. “If you discount the fact that he raped and murdered his wife and one of his own daughters…”

  “Hammer…” Barnes warned.

  “No worries, Sterling. I thought I had a pretty open view of sexuality, but these two? Wow. Buying juicy virgins for the purpose of forced sex and breeding? And I’m the pervert here? Their fantasies are way more twisted than mine.” Hammer leveled a flat stare at the two officers. “I guess working in Vice has given you some ideas over the years. What other non-consensual shit do you get your rocks off with, boys?”

  Ignoring his volley, Winslow scowled. “Did you arrange for Bill Kendall to kidnap his own daughter so that Ms. Kendall could kill him in ‘self-defense’ and you wouldn’t have to pay her father whatever else you owed him?”

  Hammer couldn’t help but blink at the absurdity of the question. “Dig out your own police reports, gentlemen. One of your peers labeled him a sexual predator and killer. I wouldn’t have put a flea in his path.”

  “How much money did you still owe him?” Cameron pressed.

  “Hammer,” Sterling cautioned.

  Seething, Macen breathed through his anger to keep his shit together. This fucking game was pissing him off. “I’m worth eight figures, gentlemen. If I paid him anything, I assure you two thousand dollars a month would hardly motivate me to plot such a ridiculously convoluted murder.”

  “Are those all the questions you have?” Sterling interceded.

  “Just one more thing.” Winslow smirked. “Mr. Hammerman might want to consider getting off his high horse, because we have an eyewitness who has corroborated that not only did Raine Kendall work at your club, but she spent nearly every night in your bed since you bought her as a minor.”

  Witness? Who the fuck could that lying sack be? Everyone who joined Shadows signed tight legal documents that ensured nothing happening inside the club’s walls made its way to outsiders.

  “In fact, the witness said you bragged about it and saw Ms. Kendall act as your domestic slave, cleaning up after you. Cooking for you.” Winslow sneered. “You like apple spice muffins, don’t you? We hear you controlled her bank account, too, so she couldn’t leave you.”

  “Don’t respond to that,” Barnes snapped.

  Macen couldn’t—without the truth being twisted to make him look guilty as hell. Only those who had spent time with him knew he liked apple spice muffins and that Raine made them for him. That he controlled her bank accounts because he’d never wanted her to worry about money again.

  Who could the damn Judas be?

  Winslow went on. “According to our witness, you also arranged for Ms. Kendall to have a public beating at your establishment, followed by a sodomizing—all while you watched.”

  Hammer knew exactly which night the detective referred to. Only a member of Shadows could know about it. Someone had talked—and misrepresented everything about his relationship with Raine to suit their own purpose.

  His heart raced, sputtered. He racked his brain to remember who had been there for that debacle. Who hated him enough to unleash this sort of vendetta?

  He was in far deeper shit than he’d imagined.

  Christ. This could not be happening. But even his body knew it was as his lungs froze, his mouth went dry, and his heart all but beat out of his chest.

  The life he’d waited years to enjoy was slipping through his fingers. Liam would be left to care for Raine alone. And what about their child? Would he ever know the baby they’d conceived in love?

  Damn it, he wasn’t going down without a fight. “I suggest you bring in your witness and get your facts straight, because someone is feeding you a metric ton of bullshit.”

  “Trust me, Mr. Hammerman, our witness has an impeccable reputation,” Winslow ass
ured.

  “Let’s end this charade. Everyone in this room knows you’re guilty. We’ve got the proof right here in black and white,” Cameron growled, scattering the copies of the money orders all over the table. “Give us a statement. Plead guilty. Maybe the DA will reduce the charges he plans to file against you and you’ll only go away for five to ten years. If you want to keep pretending you’re a model citizen, I guarantee a jury will lock you up and throw away the key.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” Hammer growled. “You can take your evidence and shove it up your ass. If you’re going to arrest me, then fucking do it. Otherwise, I’m done here.”

  “Easy,” Sterling murmured.

  Hammer was beyond that. If he didn’t get out of this claustrophobic sweat box in the next ten seconds, he was going to come completely unhinged.

  “Aside from yourself, who else had sexual relations with Ms. Kendall when she was a minor?” Winslow continued. A look of renewed vigor lightened his face. “That will count as a charge of prostitution, but we’ll let you share that sentence with the other schmucks if you’ll give us names.”

  “Stooping to psych warfare seems beneath even you, Winslow,” Hammer sneered. “What makes it worse is that you suck at it.”

  “Oh, you’re familiar with the tactic? Guess you’ve been in trouble far more than your records show.” Winslow turned to Sterling. “Did you get him cleared of other crimes, too?”

  Sterling branded the man with a scathing glare. “As my client has stated, if you’re going to arrest him, do it. Otherwise, I’m taking Mr. Hammerman home.”

  Macen didn’t wait for either detective to reply, he simply stood and headed toward the door with Sterling on his heels.

  “Don’t leave town, Mr. Hammerman,” Winslow called out as Macen stormed from the room.

  “Come on. I’ll drive you home,” Sterling offered. “We can discuss the particulars in the car.”

  Hammer was about to take the man up on his offer when Dean Gorman passed by and caught his eye, pulling out his cell phone. Striding closer to Hammer, Dean pressed it to his ear and pretended to speak into the device. “Don’t look at me. We need to talk. Be in touch soon.”