“Meanwhile, you go crawling back to that sad sack of shit at the first sign of his needing you, and you happily try to kill someone you have negative feelings about, only to mess that up.” She waited as Serena’s lips formed an “O.” “Yeah, your sister is awake; she just came out of her coma. My detectives finished talking to her before we had you and your Sir arrested. I think you might want to see about your lawyer right about now.”
Checkmate in interrogation room two.
Now that that was over and done, I ran over to the other room to catch up on what I missed. I hadn’t gotten in there for a few minutes when I heard Kraven almost lose it.
“This is all circumstantial evidence and hearsay! I know heaven isn’t alive; I checked her pulse myself!”
I kept my mouth shut. I wanted Sharpe to really play up the comedy in this particular series of exchanges between him and Kraven, but to his credit, he kept it on the level, trying to be as professional as he possibly could.
He rose from his chair, doing as much as he could to keep whatever laughs he had pent up until he left the room. He shook his head, leaving a confused suspect wondering why he looked so pitifully at him.
“What the fuck is your problem? The fuck do you find so funny?” Kraven’s scowl was met with indifference as Sharpe did his best to keep a straight face as he laid the groundwork for what exactly Kraven had done to really put himself in such a fucked-up position that even God himself couldn’t get him out of this mess.
“I’ll tell you what you’ve done, since you seem to think that you have done nothing wrong. You’ve just admitted to being at the scene of the crime, and then you admitted to touching the victim to check her vital signs. Damn, are you sure you don’t want to wait for your lawyer? This isn’t looking good for you at all.”
“None of this will hold up in court! You coerced me into admitting guilt! My lawyer will have a field day with this!” Kraven was livid at this point, doing his best to sound like those armchair lawyers.
As much as he tried to sound defiant and belligerent with the words coming out of his mouth, he forgot one small detail.
Sharpe must have felt like he was in some wild alternate universe or something; confessions didn’t come this easy. He reminded Kraven of that detail he missed on the way out of the door. “I’ll tell you what, let me leave you to your devices for a moment until your lawyer gets here, and we can start all over again, okay? And please remember, before you decide to tell your attorney that you were coerced, this was all on audio and video, and that I advised you of your right to remain silent before you started flapping off at the mouth.”
I waited for Sharpe to come out as Niki came into the room almost simultaneously. I should have been professional about my reaction, but the truth was I was having a hard time standing up from the laughter that I felt from my stomach. “God, don’t you wish they were all that damn easy?”
“I had to find some way to get out of there, Law. He was so convinced we didn’t have anything on him that he was willing to insult me to the moon and back.” Sharpe cracked a smile as he turned to Niki. “So, what did you get out of his…submissive, right?”
“Right…look at you, trying to figure out the ins and outs of things,” Niki replied. “Serena said she was the one who actually first struck Kendyl, but she didn’t land the blow that rendered her unconscious. I can still make aggravated assault stick, even though there was an intent to murder. They simply weren’t able to finish the job, for whatever reason.”
“So, are these cases open and shut, for the most part, now?” I had to ask the question more for clarity to tell my partner than for anything else. Even a blind man could see these two were ready to be sliced and prepared for slaughter. “Honestly, I think I deserve to let my partner know that the case is handled and done, and that our issues with Mr. Segal are over with now.”
“Yes, my Sir, You can do exactly that.” Niki beamed as she kissed me on the cheek. “Please give them my best, too, all right? i feel like i need to see them soon anyway; it’s been too long since You took us to see them.”
I laughed at her being slick with her mouth, knowing I couldn’t really admonish her in front of Sharpe. I simply nodded and headed out of the door to deliver the good news to Ramesses and put these cases to bed.
EPILOGUE
“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, sir. We were able to find the persons behind your daughter’s assault.”
This was never the easiest thing to go through, having to explain to the victim’s family what actually happened once things were sorted out. With crimes like this, you almost always want it to be committed by a complete stranger. From a cathartic sense, it helps the healing process speed up, if that had any roots in logical thought.
To have to explain to Mr. Ashton that his firstborn was one of the persons responsible for the assault and near death of his youngest—and her sister, at that—I was better off telling him that Kraven was behind it. Considering his past and his thoughts on interracial relationships, I wasn’t sure which would hurt worse.
To have Mr. Ashton cut me off before I could get to the point to where I could explain the details to him was disorienting, to say the least. He looked relieved and carefree, like he was going to move on to the next issue that he needed to see about.
“That’s wonderful, detective. Thank you for being able to get this done so quickly and keeping things out of the public eye,” Mr. Ashton said as he extended his hand out to shake mine. “We’re relieved that Kendyl is alive and safe now, and that the persons responsible will be held accountable.”
I was a bit confused that he didn’t want to know what happened. Usually, parents want to know the particulars, especially when the arraignment hearing would be, so they could attend to ensure justice was served. “Forgive me, sir, but I’m a bit curious; aren’t you curious about the particulars of the hearing?”
Mr. Ashton gave me a curious look, putting me further in an awkward position as to what direction to take this conversation. He didn’t blink when he responded about as matter-of-factly as I’d ever heard him. “Son, let me tell you something; sometimes when it comes to those that you care about most, they find a way to disappoint you in such a way that you can no longer really put your heart out on the line anymore. It might sound harsh, but when you’ve done your all for your children and they continue to do things that you know they shouldn’t and it takes them down a path that you cannot save them from, you have to let them fall and pick up the pieces of their own mess.”
I thought I was hearing things. I wasn’t a parent; not sure if I would ever be, either. Hearing him talk like that—like the end of the proverbial rope had been reached—was something that was foreign to me. I had done some stupid shit as a teenager, but never once did my parents ever turn their backs on me.
The flip side of the coin was that I wasn’t the offspring of a Civil Rights legend, either. The standard that was expected must have been insane growing up in that house. In essence, he was disowning and disavowing any knowledge that he had more than one child, and as much as I wanted to act like that didn’t hurt, it did.
“Well, sir, I hope that your other daughter is on the mend and that she is able to get back to being what she has been before this unfortunate circumstance. I’ll bid you good night, and please give my best to your wife.”
I couldn’t get out of that house fast enough. He was a real piece of work; he inadvertently ruined my image of an icon. Sometimes, that’s what happened when you put extraordinary men on a pedestal based on their actions; once you get a chance to get up close and personal, you see they’re as ordinary as you are, they simply rose to extraordinary actions for extraordinary circumstances.
I clicked on the CD player, listening to my dude T.I., rocking “Memories Back Then” to clear my mind from the madness I’d just dealt with, and for the first time, I actually had to think about the losses I took with these last cases.
Losing Tori. Almost losing Ty, N
atasha and sajira. If he didn’t have those tracking chips implanted in sajira, things could have turned out a lot worse than they did. I couldn’t be that sloppy again. The last thing I needed was to lose either one of the girls. I didn’t think I could handle that.
“I know you’re in the midst of a short vacation, partner, but I think there’s something you might need to be brought up to speed on.”
I was getting a bit perturbed about the interruptions that my business partner tended to make at some of the more inopportune times in my life. It cost to be the boss, and the clock was not always punched out like a regular worker, but I had hoped to have a little time to myself while enjoying my girls in the French Riviera.
Yeah, I know, it was a bit extravagant for a four-day junket, but it was a needed break outside the States for a change. The Caribbean was becoming a bore, and I wanted somewhere new to cross off the travel bucket list I had in my head. Bringing Natasha and Niki along was simply icing on the cake.
I made a mental note to turn off the international roaming on my phone the next time I traveled out of the country.
“You know, you have this penchant ability to find me at times that I don’t want to be disturbed, Sir.” I didn’t care about mincing words, and I wasn’t about to sugarcoat anything at the given moment. Natasha was still healing from the incident that Veronica put her through, and I was almost healed from my injuries from dealing with Karrion. “But since the girls are off getting pampered for a few, I have time to talk. So, what’s so important that you had to get at me from across the pond?”
There was a slight pause from Ramesses that I wasn’t sure I wanted to feel comfortable about. He sighed, resigning himself to explain in as little wording as possible the reason for his call. “There was another sexual assault and murder, this time at one of the other compounds. This one’s taking us to D.C., bruh. Do not pass Atlanta on the way back; I’ll meet you in Alexandria.”
I was still at loss and having a failure to understand what was going on. He could have handled that with the authorities in Virginia, where Thebes was located. Besides, we didn’t have any law enforcement connections that I was familiar with enough to even feel like working a case up that way. He was withholding information, as usual. “So, don’t keep me in suspense, Sir; what’s the reason that I need to meet you in Virginia?”
The answer he gave was enough to stop me in my tracks. “Ayanna’s been murdered, partner. It looks bad, too; I’m already en route as we’re speaking, so I can see what the hell happened at Thebes.”
My world stopped. I remembered Ayanna saying she was taking a trip up that way to visit some friends, but for Ramesses to say that it was a murder and rape…that was more than I could handle at that moment.
The fact that it happened inside the compound was even more disturbing.
“I’ll be on the first thing smoking in the morning, Sir.” I straightened up in my chair, determined to clear my mind from my vacation haze. “I’ll meet you at Thebes.”
“Good man. I’ll see you there.” Ramesses cleared his throat like he had one more thing to say. I almost wished he hadn’t said it. “Oh, and while we’re there, we’re going to have to handle some business with the Council. That’s all I can say for now, but I will bring you up to speed when you get Stateside. See you tomorrow, Sir, and rest well. You’re going to need it.”
WE’RE GLAD YOU ENJOYED “RECKONING,”
BOOK THREE IN THE “KINK, P.I.” SERIES.
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW DOM AND KANE GOT STARTED BE SURE TO CHECK OUT
BY SHAKIR RASHAAN
AVAILABLE FROM STREBOR BOOKS
ONE
Hate me or love me, I get results…
I’m damn good at what I do. Sure, I bent the rules a little bit, but what cop hadn’t? But I was never…I repeat, never…dirty. Ask any of my old partners and they’d tell you that for a fact.
I enjoyed the rigors of the job, the satisfaction of getting the bad guys off the streets, all of that. When I was promoted to detective, the only thing that changed was the clothes that I wore and the trademark fedora that the detectives wore to distinguish themselves from the beat patrol. I was on the fast track to doing some really big things, and I probably would have gotten them done, too.
The funniest thing about setting goals and planning out the future is the old cliché: “life is what happens to you while you’re busy making plans.”
Life was what happened to me when my childhood partner-in-crime came calling and said the words that would alter my future forever. “I got something for you, bruh. This is going to be a game-changer, I promise you.” I was skeptical at first, if I was honest with myself, so I told him I would think about it and get back to him.
He gave me twenty-four hours.
By the time he showed me the capital he had at his disposal to keep me happy and pull me away from APD, I jumped at his proposal with the speed of a Shinkansen bullet train. That’s what I did a year ago, and I haven’t looked back since.
He and I go way back. In fact, we were damn near partners on the force together, until he decided to start doing his photography thing and began to blow up. We went our separate ways after that. I never held a grudge against him about it, though. The way I saw it, things had a funny way of working themselves out, and he always said he would find a way to get me out of APD before he felt he had to bury me.
Oh, by the way, the name’s Law, Dominic Law, but my now business partner Ramesses liked to refer to me by my nickname, Dom. He called me that when we were in high school and the nickname kinda stuck. But now, instead of Detective Law of the Atlanta Police Department, you could call me by a different moniker: Private Investigator. I still answer to Detective Law, of course, but the APD part was no longer necessary.
Actually, it’s more than that: I ran the P.I. business, yes, but I was also the head of Ramesses’s security detail at NEBU and Neferterri’s security detail at her club, Liquid Paradise. All in all, they kept me quite busy with everything that went on.
But that’s not all. Thanks to Ramesses’s father’s connections all over the city, I picked up a lot of cases that the various P.D.s couldn’t always deem high priority, especially when sometimes the cases weren’t always “normal” by mainstream standards. After a while, I developed the reputation as the “Kink Detective,” which had its share of perks, at least from a financial perspective. When the occasion called for it, I could be brought in on a consult for the more unusual sex crimes that needed my “specific expertise.” A lot of the crimes were kink-related, coincidentally, and I found myself immersed deep inside the BDSM and Fetish community. It wasn’t like I wasn’t already into the shit to begin with; I could thank Ramesses and Amenhotep for that. I honestly didn’t think that I wanted to be that deep, but when you saw how women like Ramesses’s and Neferterri’s submissives and the slaves at NEBU treated a neophyte Dominant like me, it was very hard to resist learning how to get that same treatment.
Oh, and so we’re clear, my boy had damn near converted me. My only problem, as he saw it, was that I was the new “meat” on the scene. I was a heterosexual black man and my best friend—who was mentoring me, by the way—happened to be one of the power players in the Atlanta BDSM community, and damn near at the top of the food chain within the black BDSM community. The women on the scene drooled over me once they found out I was a cop at one point in time.
So, what was the problem, you were wondering?
Technically there was no problem, unless you included an ex-wife that happened to be into the same thing that I, when we were married, could really never be a part of, due to the nature of my occupation, as a problem. Even though law enforcement made strides in their understanding recently, fifteen years ago when I was coming out of the Academy, there was no way I could be able to be a cop in the Deep South and try to be discreet doing “kinky shit.”
In fact, it’s one of the “irreconcilable differences” she listed when she filed for divorce a few years ago. No
w, not only was I a newbie in the community, but I had to occasionally run into her at munches or at NEBU when a larger community function was going on. Talk about awkward?
I’d dwell on this some more, but you probably couldn’t care less. If you’re like most Americans, you’re simply going to lump me into that collection of oddballs that you thought of as “the strange people.” Well, with the recent popularity of what Ramesses called “that godforsaken movie,” maybe there might not be such a rush to judgment anymore, but I’d been known to be wrong before.
I was one of the popular people at one of the local munches on the west side. Oh, yeah, that’s right, I’m assuming that you knew the “strange person” jargon, so let me get you caught up to speed a bit in case you didn’t. A munch was short for a “meet and lunch” and that was the proper, and original, term for a gathering of people in the bondage, dominance and sadomasochism lifestyle, better known by the umbrella term of BDSM. And while we’re at it, take a minute to add Leather to your mental label for me. Go ahead, I’ll wait. You would be wrong, though. Not everyone into BDSM, or the lifestyle as we called it, was a leather-clad “freak.” A lot of us were, including Ramesses and Amenhotep, I’ll grant you, but not all of us…at least, not me.
It’s not like that wouldn’t stop Ramesses, though. To let him tell it, we’d have a plethora of issues to deal with now that the movie had rekindled the fervor of all the wannabes that thought that the “talented” Mr. Grey was hanging out at any of the three other dungeons in addition to NEBU. Trust me, if that dude, or any resemblance or copycat of him, showed up at the security checkpoint, I’d probably have him turned around and revoke his membership based on the illegitimacy of his “dominance” alone.
Reckoning Page 19
