The Rainmaker: Jake: A Von Larsen Crime Family Novel Read online

  “Are you ready to begin?”

  “Oh wow, you’re asking me now?” My sarcasm was thick. “What if I say no? Are you going to have your heavy come in here because you’re not man enough to do it yourself?” I started to move carefully around the room. I put my hands out in front of me so I wouldn’t bump into anything. My toe hit the frame of the bed and I bent down to feel that I was at the foot of it.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  I sat on the end of the bed and popped my shoes off, wiggling my toes before I slipped back on the satin sheets. I leaned my back against the headboard and crossed my legs at the ankles. “I think there’s room in here for two. Care to join me?” I patted the sheets.

  “No. Aly, take off your clothes.”

  “What is this game you play? You order and pay for a girl and then what, you get nervous and things don’t work so well anymore. Tell me, have you ever actually been with a woman before? You do know how to fuck, right, even vanilla style? No?”

  “You’ve been contracted. Fulfill your end of the bargain.”

  I scrunched up my nose and puckered my lips. My fingers rubbed at my temple. “Yeah right, but what about you and your end? Maybe you should be on another site, perhaps flaccid voyeurs or weak, pussy, momma boys?”

  The speaker clicked off and the door swung open. I heard his shoes cross the hard floor with purpose, direction, and speed.

  I smiled. “That’s better, ba—”

  My words were cut off by his hand around my throat. He pinned me to the mattress. I could feel the strength behind those fingers. He was using restraint. My flesh felt the pressure, but I did not think my skin would bruise. It wasn’t the physical strength that frightened me, it was the aggressive action and the memories it triggered.

  I tried to compose myself. My trembling on the bed would certainly make Jake think I was a frightened female. He’d never suspect it was me trying desperately to restrain my fight instinct toward him.

  I let my fingers stroke his wrist. I pouted my lips and tried to calm my breathing. My other hand reached up to grab at his shoulder, and I tried to pull him toward me. If I could kiss him, I could fake a slip of the blindfold. I whimpered and dug my fingers into his skin through his shirt. “Please,” I whispered.

  Kiss me, I dare you.

  He wasn’t budging. I lifted my frame up toward him and pulled him forward at the same time. He was so strong. I felt like I was moving a mountain. My fingers worked hard to memorize the feel of his muscles through his shirt. My body bounced deep into the foam of the bed mattress as he pushed away from me and stormed out of the room.

  The speaker crackled. “You are free to go now.”

  No.

  I sat up on the bed, flabbergasted. “What?”

  “Leave.”

  “Fuck you. You selfish bastard, I doubt you can even get it up. You limp dick asshole.” I stopped.

  There was no answer, no noise. Was he still there watching me? I flipped off the empty room for good measure. I may have just ruined my whole operation.

  Selfish, stupid girl.

  Angelo took me by the elbow and helped me with my shoes. I wasn’t even sure when he entered the room, I was that upset.

  Now what, Alyson?

  4

  Jake

  Most fighters would be back in the locker room by now, getting a pep talk of pre-fight mental chatter. Not me, I didn’t need that shit. My body was a trained machine operated by my mind. I was always mentally focused from the time I woke up to the time I fell asleep. I knoew what I had to do to achieve my goals.

  My feet thumped in a soft rhythm as the rope slid with smooth fluidity between the soles of my shoes and the floor. My hands were already taped and I needed to shed my sweats before I laced on my gloves. My aggression was high and my edge sharp and deadly. I would be lying if I said I felt sorry for my opponent. I didn’t give a damn about him. I was here to win, nothing more. Winning gave me more than victory or cash. It gave me and my family cover and protection. There were no options but to win. My job with our family set up was this: I played the heavy in and out of the ring. What I did for the cameras was nothing different than what I did out of their lenses, but when they were filming me, it provided the perfect cover and kept the feds, the DEA, and the locals off our backs.

  My trainer was waiting for me. He put on the mitts and went several rounds of shadow boxing with me. My body moved in precise, detailed steps, like a professionally choreographed dance routine. I ducked and weaved. My fists touched the mitts, kissing the worn leather exactly on target. I’d have this guy down for ten by the second round. I’d give the crowd a show and then take my prize and head home for an early night. Maybe then I’d allow myself to deal with the whole Alyson situation.

  I can finally fuck her.

  I’d bring her into my room and prove to her I was no pussy. She’d be begging for me to stop, to give her more, to finish, to allow her to orgasm, and I’d finally be able to show her what kind of man I was when it came to sex. And then I’d be sweet to her.

  Kiss her, taste her lips, stroke that gorgeous hair.

  She’d be begging to be with me. I could feel my lip curl into a knowing smirk. Life was good for me, and having Alyson know me and want me fully would only make it one hundred times better. How could she say I was flaccid, limp dicked, and a momma’s boy? She had no idea who I was. My fists pounded together and I growled, jumping up and down in place. I was ready to kick ass.

  The roar of the crowd only fueled me. My feet danced down the ramp, while my fists punched at the air in front of me. I climbed through the ropes and joined the announcer at the center of the ring as he spoke my name through the microphone. Another wave of battle cries rolled through the arena. I was hyped and ready. My trainer popped my mouth guard in and wiped some petroleum jelly across my chest. I took a sip of water from the bottle that was extended to me and got back on my feet, too energized to sit still. My opponent eyed me from his seated position in his corner.

  You should be nervous. I’m going to wipe the floor with you.

  The bell rang, and we both sprinted toward the center of the ring. I held my ground and watched as he jabbed and lunged. I would size him up before I made my attack. He was right handed, no need to adjust for a southpaw, but he was slow. Unlike my arm, his did not snap back ready to deliver another blow. He was operating out of his head, not his instinct. He was deep in his mind, which gave me the advantage.

  My glove kissed his nose and I stepped to the side, anticipating his punch, all in one flowing motion. I watched his energy dissipate through the missed connection. His arm was still out and I socked him in the ribs. Each time he failed to draw back the extension of his protective arm, my glove cracked through his rib cage. The bell rang and we retreated to our respective corners.

  “He’s slow on the return. Hit him hard and keep him breathless. He’s starting to drop his guard already, Jake.”

  I nodded. My trainer wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. I felt him wipe my face. He offered me water and I opened my mouth for him to squirt it in. I felt the vibration of the bell moments before my ears registered the sound. I spit the water in the bucket and my body was up in a flash. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the same reverberating sense I achieved with Alyson before our last meeting.

  Her face flashed in front of my vision.

  Alyson?

  My fist connected with my opponent’s cheekbone and I made a second hit to those bruised ribs. Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of the audience. It wasn’t my imagination. Alyson was sitting in the third row. I swung around on the balls of my feet and dodged his uppercut. My head turned to the side. It was her. Two men flanked her on either side.

  What the fuck?

  My jaw shifted with force to the side and yanked my eyes from its target.

  Fuck.

  I needed to get my body back around and put myself in a better position to see her. Was she with o
ne of these guys, or both? Were they clients of Love or Lust? Was she going home with them after the fight? My nose crunched upward.

  Goddamn it, Jake.

  The bell relieved me of my stupor and I retreated to my corner, looking back to where she sat. She was having a conversation with the man on her right. Her smile was a natural one, not the seductive smile she’d given me. Should I be worried that she was playing a part with me?

  Of course she is. She’s a paid escort. Did she just put her hand on his shoulder?

  Bell. My fist went out and missed my mark. I lost my breath as I took a poke to my abdomen. I ducked to the side and then pressed in, linking my arms through his and pushing him back against the ropes directly in front of Alyson. If my glare could kill, the man swilling cheap beer beside her would be a puddle of blood and alcohol on the floor.

  The referee shoved us apart. My lip split and blood filled my mouth. I connected with the swollen shiner under his eye and he staggered back away from me. I followed the backward momentum of his body and dotted his eye once more. He fell back against the ropes, and I took the opportunity while his hands were down and worked on his ribs and his head in a series of punches. I couldn’t remember what round this was. I needed to take him down soon.

  Take the pain.

  My opponent was getting the better of me. But I knew better. If she wasn’t sitting right there daring me to see her, I’d be able to focus and finish this guy off. I needed to bury this obsession for the time being, or I’d be paying a penalty I could not have on my record. I pushed the anger, jealousy, and frustration down into a massive ball of energy in the pit of my stomach, took a deep breath, and threw every ounce of it into the striking force of my fists.

  The man wobbled and tried to avoid my punches, but soon it was obvious to me and the crowd he was flailing to maintain his position. I saw my window. My glove swooped up in an inverted arc and caught him hard under the chin. Like a slow motion movie, I saw my hand follow through the momentum, and his body lifted off his toes and tumbled backward. The canvas at my feet vibrated with the impact of his body hitting the floor. The referee began counting, and I stood there watching Alyson from the corner of my eye.

  “Seven, eight, nine, ten.” The crowd went wild, and the referee stood up, declaring me the victor.

  Time to get this done.

  My trainer held ice to my eye as I laced up my shoes. “Jake, you should let yourself cool down, get a check on your head. Any double vision?”

  “I’m fine. It’s a black eye and a split lip. Playground stuff, George.”

  He tossed his hands in the air. “Your choice, you know you.”

  I smirked. “I gotta be somewhere.”

  “Yeah, yeah, all right, Jake.” He smacked his hand down on my shoulder. ‘You call me later.” It wasn’t a suggestion or question. My trainer was officially my paid employee, but he was also one of the only elders I had left in my life. I gave him a pass on telling me what to do out of respect. Would I treat him any differently than anyone else if he crossed me? No. He’d meet the same fate, but like Angelo, I trusted him.

  I squeezed his shoulder and looked at him through my swollen eye. “I will.”

  The crowds had thinned out by the time I left the locker room and headed out into the arena. Would she still be there?

  Where are you, Aly?

  I went directly to where she’d been sitting. The floor was littered. I kicked at a semi-empty plastic cup of liquid. My eyes darted to the nearest exit.

  Go that way.

  My feet were moving and my eyes searched corners and hallways. Sparse gatherings of stragglers lingered near concession stands and filtered in and out of the elite sports clubs on premise. She could be in one of those, linked into the side of one or both of those idiots she had been sitting with. It made my blood boil and I saw red. I ripped the glass door open.

  “Good eve—oh, Mr. Von Larsen. Great fight tonight. Can I get you a table?” The lanky, tall boy was fumbling over himself. He couldn’t get out from behind his designated podium station fast enough to shake my hand.

  “Did a woman about this high,” I held my hand about the level of my mouth, “blondish, long hair, long legs, possibly with two guys, come in here in the last thirty minutes? Maybe you heard her name, Alyson?”

  The boy pinched his lips together between his teeth and gazed around the bar. “I don’t recall. There was a pretty big rush, but I don’t think so.”

  I did my own scan of the surrounding bar area and then headed back out into the walkways. I was about to sprint down to the lower level bar when I caught sight of her near an exit. She was standing under the cover of the eaves, talking on her phone.

  Making a date, Aly? I don’t think so.

  “You waiting for a ride?”

  I watched her eyes go wide, star-struck.

  “I’m Jake Von Larsen.”

  She nodded, her jaw slightly slack. I loved it when women were in awe of me. The look she held told me she couldn’t believe I, Jake Von Larsen, boxing star, was speaking directly to her. I couldn’t help but smile. If she only knew I had already seen her at her most vulnerable.

  “Do you talk?”

  I watched her swallow hard and close out of her screen. “Hi, I’m Alyson Gallagher. I was waiting for my ride, but I don’t think he’s going to show now.” Her perfectly bowed lips pouted. “You wouldn’t happen to know the number to a taxi service?”

  God damn, I want to feel those lips wrapped around me.

  “Can I offer you a ride? My limo is on its way. It would be my pleasure.”

  Her pout turned into that saucy little smile she gave me the first night. “Sure, that would be fantastic, Mr. Von Larsen, thank you.”

  Fantastic indeed.

  5

  Alyson

  Play the part. Keep your cool.

  Jake held the door to the back of the limo open for me and I climbed in, with him following behind. I wondered if Angelo was in the front seat. Surely he would recognize me, and of course, I would recognize him, and Jake’s little head game would be foiled. How long was he going to keep it up before he admitted who he was, or was he waiting to see how long it took me to pretend to figure it out?

  Who cares, you have your confirmation. You should go home now.

  I gazed around the cabin of the limo, faking my awe of being in such luxury. My fingers stroked the leather seats. “Mmm, I bet this feels fantastic on bare skin.” My eyes, which I had yet to use on Jake, were finally feeling their freedom, and I allowed them to become heavy lidded and hold his gaze as I sucked on my bottom lip, still feeling up the soft leather. “Bet you get a lot of action in this beauty.”

  Jake laughed.

  God, you are gorgeous.

  “What do you do, Aly?”

  So he was going to continue his game. “I’m a grad student at the university. You know, I feel like I have been in a limousine like this one before. Is this a rental?” I watched his face as I checked him in our little strategic game.

  “Are you the kind of girl that rides in limos on a daily basis?” His coffee-hued eyes never flinched as he held my gaze. Even with the swelling and growing blue and purple stain on his cheek bone, he was attractive, perhaps more so because of it.

  I shrugged. “Not usually, but more so these days.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “Why is that, rich boyfriend?”

  Yes, Mr. Von Larsen, you are a skilled player.

  I allowed an immature twitter of laughter to escape my lips and finally dropped my gaze, mocking a shyness I truly never would use in my real life. “I don’t really know and I wouldn’t call him my boyfriend. Actually, I probably won’t see him again. I think he has an issue, you know…” My eyes looked to his groin. I let them stay there and dance over the inseam of his jeans. “In that area.”

  Jake’s face flooded with hot color.

  Checkmate.

  He cleared his throat. “Would it be an imposition for me to take you to my pla
ce for a drink, before dropping you back to wherever it is you’re supposed to be?”

  I laid my hand on his upper thigh. He lowered his head and stared at my fingers. I cocked my head to the side. Jake shoved his hair back away from his face and knocked on the window in a series of taps. The car veered to the right—four bumps and then darkness.

  “Wow, do you live here?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Our footsteps echoed in unison as we followed a familiar course. He was taking me to his room.

  How far, Jake? How far are you willing to go?

  I saw the door for the first time. It was a plain mahogany, glossed door, surrounded by white walls in a sterile hallway. For some unknown reason, my mental image of this hallway was red. He opened the door and stood aside, making room for me to enter in front of him.

  “Make yourself comfortable.” He stepped away, closing the door behind him.

  No.

  Was he going to talk through the speaker again? I’d lost the game. I could feel my shoulders sag. Maybe I should walk out now. My eyes looked to the door and then around the room, seeing this place I was in three times previously for the first time. High ceilings, check. Not much furniture, check, but more than I anticipated. There was the bed, with sage green satin sheets and a shaker style slatted bed frame. Not what I’d envisioned.

  You think you know a person.

  The chair I had used the first time was in a corner. The upholstery matched the bedding perfectly. Along the wall were other pieces: a table, a night stand, another matching chair. It was a complete bedroom set in a room much too big to be an actual bedroom.

  What took me by surprise was the wall-wide mirror on the far wall. So that was how he was watching me. Was he behind that glass now? Who else did he watch in here, and what did he do with them? There was a pain in my chest that I did not expect, like a nail of jealousy pounding into my heart.