Scandalous Shifters Paranormal Box Set

by Mia Taylor

  “Thank you,” he said cordially, subtly eyeing her luxurious condo. He had managed to slip by the concierge undetected, but that had merely been a stroke of good luck. The building had a tight security system and reeked of money.

  Ben was sure that once he started digging, he’d find the building would be owned by an umbrella corporation of someone who wanted Ryker Duvall out of the picture.

  But first things first.

  Leah’s apartment obviously contained brand-new furniture, something that her bank account reflected she simply could not afford. The sofa cost more than Leah Waterson made in three months at her job. The rent on the condo was five thousand dollars a month.

  Benjamin had checked the market value.

  “I’m fine,” Leah blurted out before Benjamin could state his reason for being there. Benjamin smiled kindly.

  “I am simply here in case you need someone to speak with regarding what happened with Senator Duvall,” he told her. Immediately her eyes dropped and Leah began wringing her hands nervously.

  “No, I don’t want to speak with anyone other than the ADA,” she replied. Benjamin noted with interest that she began to pace the room.

  He had begun his investigation under the pretense that Leah Waterson and Joanne Kincaid were not lying. In situations like this, particularly where the wealthy were involved, Ben was apt to side with the alleged victims, regardless of the “innocent until proven guilty” lie Americans told themselves. The court of public opinion had a huge hand in the wheel of justice, Ben had found.

  Anyway, despite Victoria Duvall’s conviction that her husband was innocent, Benjamin had not been swayed.

  At the core, Ryker Duvall was still a high-ranking Republican official and given the political climate, there was a very good chance that Duvall was finally being called out on his own perversions. If the allegations were true, Duvall wouldn’t have been the first man to abuse his power in such a vile manner as recent news had shown.

  Yet as the seasoned detective continued his search into the background of the women, he realized that he was dealing with two puppets in a multi-scene marionette show. Their stories were uncannily similar which, again, meant nothing as repeat offenders often had the same modus operandi, but it wasn’t the events which nagged Benjamin. It was the wording used in their statements. They provided exactly the same words verbatim as if they had memorized lines in a play.

  These women have been coached, Benjamin finally concluded, rereading the victim statements. He was surprised the senator had been arrested based on the weakness of the cases, but he also saw how it had happened. The public was eager to see Ryker Duvall crucified at the stake. His archaic bombast was enough to ignite the passions of the calmest left-winged supporters. Two separate accusations certainly created enough doubt about the man’s character to start the wheels in motion, particularly when the ADA was a staunch feminist and women’s rights advocate.

  Ryker Duvall had some odds to overcome and the more Benjamin searched, the more convinced he became that the senator was being set up.

  Even if proving it was giving him an acrid taste in his mouth. For reasons he didn’t fully understand, Ben didn’t like Ryker Duvall and he hadn’t even met the man.

  He wondered if it had anything to do with his alluring wife and the rush of heat he felt in her presence.

  Keep your eyes on the game. Victoria Duvall is completely off limits.

  Ben had been pouring tirelessly over bank statements and work histories of both women, finding nothing obvious to prove that they had been paid for their testimony. He had then gone to interview various acquaintances of the women, discovering that Joanne was a recovering alcoholic who had worked very hard to get her life back on track. Leah was a high school dropout who had worked as a stripper on occasion to pay her rent.

  They were not beyond reproach but they were not exactly criminal masterminds either.

  Benjamin’s sharp intuition told him that someone had made easy marks of these women, victimizing them in a way far different than what they were proclaiming.

  The issue had become finding out who had hired them and tracing the money, if in fact they had been paid with money. There were other ways to pay people.

  “I understand your reluctance to talk to anyone,” Benjamin told her, sitting uninvited on the suede sofa. “But I am here to help. Some victims say that the more they tell the story, the easier it becomes to accept what happened.”

  Leah refused to meet his gaze, her dark eyes examining her hands carefully.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “But I’m okay. I’ll save it for the trial.”

  Benjamin sensed an opportunity in her vulnerability and jumped on it.

  “I lied to you, Ms. Waterson,” he said bluntly and Leah’s eyes jumped upward to stare at him with frightened eyes. “I am not from Victim Services.”

  Her posture stiffened visibly and she began to shake.

  “Wh-who are you, then?” she whispered, visibly swallowing. “Are you going to hurt me?”

  Benjamin felt a smidgen of guilt but forced himself to maintain a stoic expression.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” he told her truthfully. “I am here on behalf of our mutual boss.”

  Leah’s shoulders sagged visibly.

  “Oh,” she whispered and Benjamin was filled with a sense of relief. His gut had been correct.

  You’ve still got it, old boy, he prided himself silently but there was little joy in the knowledge.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, looking defeated.

  “Our boss wants to make sure you are prepared for trial. It’s coming up fast,” he told her and Leah nodded eagerly.

  “Yes! I know exactly what I am supposed to say!” she cried. “I swear I have been practicing every night and reading from the page so I don’t screw up. Please don’t move me out of here. I really like it here!”

  Benjamin felt slightly sick to his stomach.

  She was bought off with an expensive apartment. She is willing to ruin a man’s life for some high-end furniture and a view of the bay. I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.

  Benjamin went over her testimony one more time, nodding as he heard exactly the same words he had read in the witness statement without variation. If he had any doubt about Ryker Duvall’s innocence before going to the apartment, he had absolutely none by the time he left.

  And he had a fairly good idea of who was responsible for trying to get Duvall out of the picture too.

  Chapter Nine

  But It’s Not Over…

  The courtroom was overflowing despite the media ban and Victoria sat wedged between Riley and Lenora, desperately wanting to flee. As if sensing her desire, Lenora grasped her daughter-in-law’s hand comfortingly.

  “It’ll be over soon,” she murmured. “Ryker will be home and this will all have been a terrible nightmare.”

  Victoria nodded, wishing she shared in Lenora’s confidence. The future was looking bleak. She loathed that she had been considering filing for divorce in the past weeks, the strain of the impending trial leading her to fill the penthouse with baked goods.

  She and Ryker couldn’t manage a smile for each other when they were together. There was too much tension, too much uncertainty surrounding everything.

  Even if he gets an acquittal his reputation will be ruined. He is forever tarnished in the eyes of society.

  Victoria tried to tell herself they would cross that bridge if they came to it. She had no idea what she would do if he was convicted. She hadn’t allowed her mind to go there, not yet.

  She dug in her purse for an antacid and popped it in her mouth, certain that the bile in her stomach was about to bubble over into her mouth.

  If I vomit, will that be enough of an excuse to go home and pull the blankets over my head. I just want to block out the world forever.

  She willed herself to stop thinking so darkly and trained her eyes on the trial ahead.

  The jury shuffled into the
box and Victoria watched them closely.

  Eight men and four women, she thought with some hope. The odds are in our favor from that aspect.

  Not for the first time, she wondered why Ryker had not opted for a bench trial. The case was so pathetically weak, it seemed much smarter to go that route. It was just one more thing that they disagreed upon.

  As if we needed anything else to disagree upon.

  “All rise!” the bailiff ordered and the courtroom immediately obliged. “The Honorable Christine Anderson presiding.”

  Judge Anderson took the bench and nodded pleasantly at the bailiff.

  “Please be seated,” she instructed. Victoria sank into the chair worriedly.

  The judge was a woman.

  The ADA was a woman.

  Suddenly the odds didn’t seem so favorable.

  Just because the judge is a woman does not automatically mean she’ll side with the accusers, Victoria tried to reason frantically. Her hands were beginning to shake.

  “ADA Sanchez?”

  Marisol Sanchez leapt to her feet as if she were on fire. She was a hyperactive woman in her fifties, filled with smoldering anger and a sharp tongue. She had personally asked to be put on the case, removing ADA Almada as lead prosecutor. She had cited his gross incompetence at the original hearing as cause to step in and won the argument. Jason Almada sat second chair, a sour expression on his face.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” she began without pause. “Today you will be hearing the case of Ryker Duvall, a man who used his wealth and power to stalk and harass unsuspecting women. You will hear about his backward views on women, horrific opinions which led to him being elected Republican senator of this great state. His backward mentality…”

  Victoria tuned out the opening statements and blinked the gritty tears from her eyes.

  This is going to be the longest few weeks of my life, she told herself, gnashing her teeth together. You better keep it together.

  Sanchez droned on for half an hour and Victoria could see that the jury was quickly tiring of the portrait she painted of Ryker Duvall, her hyperbole making them restless.

  When the ADA finally sat down, Ryker lumbered to his feet. His actions were slow and deliberate, a distinct contrast to Marisol’s birdlike movements.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, ADA Sanchez will have you believe that I am a hater of women, a cold, calculating, power-hungry man with no regard for the welfare of the opposite sex. Nothing could be further from the truth. I won’t bore you with self-proclamations. I will give you proof of this, hard evidence, something that the prosecution will not be able to provide you with throughout this trial. I only ask that you do what you were sworn to do and keep an open mind in these proceedings. Thank you.”

  The jury shifted, surprised that his statement was so short, and Victoria recognized a swell of appreciation in their faces.

  Maybe he really does have this after all, Victoria thought as her husband reclaimed his seat. He had finally caved and taken on co-counsel. The female attorney beside him sat rigidly as if she might snap directly in half at any second.

  “The prosecution may call its first witness,” Judge Anderson announced and Sanchez rose to her feet.

  “The prosecution calls Joanne Kincaid to the stand.”

  The courtroom turned to watch as a tall, thin redhead hurried forward, her head down. She approached the witness box and was sworn in before sitting uncomfortably in the chair.

  “Please state your name for the record.”

  “Joanne Kincaid.”

  “Ms. Kincaid, can you tell me what happened the night of October 12th, 2016?”

  “Yes, I was working at the Germaine Plaza Hotel in Manhattan when I was approached by Mr. Duvall. He subsequently put his hand on my buttocks and whispered something terrible in my ear.”

  A ripple of shock coursed through the room and Victoria realized that she couldn’t stomach anymore.

  “Excuse me,” she mumbled, slipping past Lenora and heading toward the door.

  “Victoria…” Lenora whispered after her, holding up her hand, but no one stopped her from leaving.

  Outside the room, she hurried toward the washroom, sidestepping reporters. She idly considered throwing up on them but as she turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of Benjamin Hamilton sauntering toward her.

  She pointed a finger at him accusingly, her nausea momentarily forgotten as anger overtook her.

  “You! I have been waiting to hear from you for a month!” she hissed. “Where the hell have you been?”

  He approached her, shrugging nonchalantly, and Victoria wanted to slap his ruggedly handsome face.

  “Working,” he replied, offering her a charming smile. Victoria stared at him open-mouthed.

  Don’t you realize that my husband’s life and reputation are on the line here? Victoria screamed internally. Don’t you realize my sanity is at stake?

  “Working on what?” she almost shrieked but he took her arm and steered her into a quiet spot. Reporters craned their necks to catch a glimpse of her, some snapping pictures, but Victoria was too upset to care.

  “Lower your voice,” Benjamin told her calmly. “I need you to get your husband out here immediately. I know who had him framed.”

  Victoria paused, trying to understand what his words meant.

  “What? Who? It’s too late now, Benjamin. The trial has already started.”

  “It’s not too late. It is perfect timing. Have him ask for a ten-minute recess right now.”

  Uncertainty overwhelmed her but Benjamin gently pushed her toward the courtroom, urging her to hurry.

  Slowly, Victoria walked back toward the trial, apprehension overcoming her.

  It’s too late. It doesn’t matter what he found out, we’re in too deep now. Our lives are never going to be the same.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Please state your name for the record,” Sanchez ordered.

  “Evangeline Crowe-Mathers,” Ryker’s ex-wife answered, flipping her raven-black hair with annoyance. “But I have no idea what I am doing here.”

  “You are here under court order and, Your Honor, I would like to treat Mrs. Mathers as a hostile witness,” the ADA added. Judge Anderson nodded and Marisol turned back to the witness.

  “You were married to Ryker Duvall sixteen years ago, were you not, Mrs. Mathers?”

  “Yes,” Evangeline snapped. “So what?”

  “Did Mr. Duvall ever ask you for unconventional sex in the bedroom?”

  “Objection! What the hell kind of question is that?” Ryker exploded. But Evangeline was shaking her head, a smirk on her face.

  “Ryker was always a perfect gentleman inside and outside the bedroom,” she retorted smugly. “These charges are absurd!”

  ADA Sanchez turned to some paperwork on her table and glanced up.

  “But in your divorce proceedings, you claimed that he sometimes tied you up during intercourse, isn’t that correct?”

  A gasp flowed through the room and Victoria bit her lip. She had never experienced anything but gentleness at the hands of her husband. He had never suggested anything which could remotely be construed as kinky.

  “Well… yes… but we were young and experimenting. I mean, I don’t expect you to understand any of that, but couples like to have fun sometimes. You know, shake it up in the bedroom?” A chuckle ran through the courtroom at Evangeline’s snide remark and Sanchez’s face went crimson at the jibe.

  “I thought you said he was a perfect gentleman always.”

  Evangeline was silent, unsure of how to answer. She cast Ryker an apologetic look of pleading. He smiled encouragingly and nodded as if to say she was doing a great job. A smile reappeared on her full mouth and she seemed to exhale in relief.

  “He divorced you right after he made partner in your father’s firm, is that correct?”

  Evangeline looked mortified but she nodded.

  “Yes, that’s true,” she conc
eded. “Things weren’t working out for a while, though, before that.”

  “That isn’t very gentlemanly, is it? Marrying you so he could get a partnership and then dumping you as soon as he got the job?”

  Again, Evangeline said nothing, pursing her lips together. She glared at Marisol but the damage was already done.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you can see how he treats the women he claims to love. Imagine how he treats strangers.”

  “Your Honor, ADA Sanchez is testifying,” Ryker complained. Marisol threw up her hands in surrender.

  “Save it for your closing statement, Ms. Sanchez,” Judge Anderson ordered dryly. “Do you have anything else for this witness?”

  “Nothing further.”

  “Mr. Duvall?”

  Ryker rose to his feet and smiled disarmingly at his ex-wife.

  “Evie, we’ve maintained a close friendship despite our history of divorce, haven’t we?” he asked kindly. She nodded eagerly.

  “Of course! We’re practically besties! We talk on the phone all the time and when I come to visit Daddy, I always have lunch with you.”

  Victoria was slightly stunned by the confession.

  I didn’t know that.

  “Would you say I ever made you uncomfortable?”

  Evangeline shook her head.

  “Never! You watch my boys. I would never leave my boys with someone I wasn’t comfortable with.”

  He watches her boys? Why did he never tell me about that?

  A prickle of concern began to snake down Victoria’s spine.

  Ryker wandered back to the table and picked up some papers. He walked back to the witness box and showed his ex-wife what he was holding.

  “Evie, what’s this?”

  Evangeline reached for the items in Ryker’s hand. Marisol Sanchez leaned forward to see what he was presenting. She turned to Almada and asked him a question, but the ADA shrugged his shoulders in confusion. Evangeline’s face went pale as she scanned the pages.

  “What are you doing with those, Ryker?” she hissed. Ryker shrugged, maintaining the smile on his face.