The Rainmaker: Jake: A Von Larsen Crime Family Novel

by Piper Page

  The Rainmaker

  A Von Larsen Crime Family Novel, Book 2

  Piper Page

  MRM Publishing

  Contents

  1. Alyson

  2. Jake

  3. Alyson

  4. Jake

  5. Alyson

  6. Jake

  7. Alyson

  8. Jake

  9. Alyson

  10. Jake

  11. Alyson

  12. Jake

  13. Alyson

  14. Jake

  15. Alyson

  16. Jake

  17. Alyson

  18. Jake

  19. Alyson

  20. Jake

  Epilogue

  And now please enjoy a bonus novella—PROTECTOR— for your reading pleasure

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

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  About the Author

  Also by Piper Page

  Copyright © 2017 by Piper Page

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  1

  Alyson

  “You understand what we’re asking you to do, right, Alyson?”

  Those words echoed in my head as the limo moved forward, heading to… I don’t know where. I knew what was being asked of me—it was my job to know—yet here I was forgoing the rules of my job, jeopardizing my career. I had to be insane to convince my assigned safety to stay behind while I agreed to climb into the luxury interior of the back seat of a limo and not know what was going to occur or with whom.

  I would have been okay, if my sight wasn’t stolen by a blindfold and my sense of hearing cut off by the sound canceling headphones. Being shoved into a desensitized situation right off the bat did not bode well for what might occur once we got to… oh hell, I had no idea. Did I really know what I was getting myself into?

  Even without the benefit of all five of my senses, I could still determine that at least one other person was in the vehicle with me besides the driver, who had instructed me to put on the blindfold and headphones. I could smell this mystery man’s cologne the moment he stepped in. And I felt the vibration of the limo door closing and a body arranging itself on a seat across from me through my skin.

  He was watching me.

  That’s good, Alyson; use your instincts to determine your position.

  “You’ve got your in, now take it slow, nothing risky.” My lieutenant’s voice replaced my own.

  Sorry Lieu.

  I didn’t get where I was by not taking risks, and hopefully this time it would get me that promotion. Being the only twenty-seven-year-old female undercover detective in the district didn’t lend itself to playing it safe. I’d done that once a long time ago, and look where that landed me.

  But I couldn’t think about that right now. Being viewed as a stereotypical female in men’s eyes was not my forte. I tried to fly under the radar when it came to reenacting the roles society placed on women, to be alluring, frail, to entertain men with our flirty, false eyelashes and glossed lips. That was a role I had shunned for my own safety and sanity, yet here I was, fully immersed in the role that I hoped would win me the all-time Emmy in detective work.

  I felt my hands clench into fists and I willed my body to relax. I needed to get out of my head, but how does one do that when they feel like they’re floating in a sensory deprivation tank? I hated having my eyes covered; even as a kid, I was never one for being in total darkness. Darkness held demons, and not just the imaginary ones you watch in the movies.

  Focus, Alyson.

  Drifting back to my past was not going to help me gather the information I needed in the here and now. The limo swerved to the right and I set my hand down to keep myself upright. I could feel the heat coming off my bare thigh. You would think my flesh would be cold the way I was dressed. Lord knows, if it were me that picked out my outfit, I would have left a little more to the imagination.

  Nope, not only was I surrounded by male detectives, I somehow drew the short straw and acquired a dueling twosome team of boys getting me ship shape for this investigation. I think my outfit was a private joke between them. Black leather booty shorts that were currently riding up my ass, a silver sequined camisole, no bra—who knew sequins would itch so much—and long black boots with five inch spiked heels on them, which only added to my already tall height.

  They were probably giving me payback for my “bitchy” attitude. I admit I wasn’t thrilled to have to go through all the waxing, plucking, and highlighting, and I may have snapped a few times too many. I will also admit that I loathed having to model lacy, satin lingerie for approval, and I am sure my scowl showed it, but the worst part of the whole ordeal was sitting for the cameras. Trying to get the right picture, designed to entice our target on the Love or Lust escort website, was hellacious torture for me.

  “Alyson, loosen up, you’re too stiff. Alyson, picture your boyfriend. Alyson, this is about sexuality and desire.”

  I wanted to scream. Boyfriend, sexuality, desire—none of these words applied to me. How could I “loosen up” when my whole adult life I froze up when it came to this subject? Not in the way that a wanna-be actor freezes up under the watchful eyes of an audience, but in the way the evil queen of Narnia froze the entire kingdom to keep the happiness at bay. I wasn’t a cold-hearted shrew, but I played one on the detective front.

  The lengths I had to endure for this assignment had been mentally and physically strenuous. I didn’t mind the six months of preparation, the training, the kick-boxing and early morning runs that increased my endurance and toned my muscles. No, that part put me in the perfect head space, a space that didn’t revolve around luring certain types of men into requesting my company for a “date.” What I did mind was pole dancing lessons and classes to educate me in sexual areas of pleasure that made me cringe on the inside. Who the hell did that type of perverted shit? I knew exactly who.

  Stop it.

  The car was slowing. We were either at an intersection or getting close to our destination. What had it been, maybe fifteen minutes?

  If I wanted to move up the ranks and take a position that was geared more toward my male counter parts, I needed to buck up and play the game as hard as any of the others. Who cared if they had years on me professionally. I worked hard and had courage, more courage than half these boys, and a trust I had earned through years of dedication with my lieutenant. If I nailed this case, he would gift wrap my recommendation and I could finally move to the position in Miami that I had my eye on.

  I felt my braless breasts bob beneath the flimsy material as the limo sailed over a series of speed bumps. Where in Houston were there four speed bumps in a row? I was already slacking, having spent too long in my blacked out state. I needed to keep my sanity and my wits.

  “Sanity,” that was a funny word to use. What I was doing right now, in this moment, was nowh
ere close to sane. Who volunteered to dress up like a paid to order escort? What type of man searched on the internet for women to date? Not sane ones, not safe ones, but these men were millionaires, all of them, sleazy or not, though I couldn’t see how they were anything but sleazy.

  Even Jake Von Larsen. I mean, the guy wasn’t unattractive. He was a public figure, so certainly women were begging to be on his arm. He must have been dripping in them. Then again, maybe his tastes required a website like Love or Lust. He hadn’t selected the “searching for love” section. Jake’s profile showed him in for “pure lust.” I supposed I shouldn’t have been shocked by it. Look at his profession, a boxer. He made his living beating the crap out of people for sport and money, and he was good at it, from what I watched on an online video.

  Jake Von Larsen threw punches with more power and aggression than most street thugs pumped up on juice and smack. It intimidated the hell out of me and I could only manage to watch the one video Lieu showed me. It was enough. I could see what I was up against and it made me more thankful for my training.

  What I wasn’t prepared for was seeing him half naked.

  Forget the blood curdling display of rage and speed. Jake’s physical attributes were scary as well, but in a whole different definition of the word. You could sink your fingertips into the well defined muscular lines etched in his biceps, along his back, and his rock hard six pack. Top that with some of the most intricate ink designs that coated his skin, not scattered novice Popeyes or hearts with “mom” carved in the middle. These designs flowed like a swirling dream that caught you and enticed you to follow the lines from the back of his neck, over his shoulder, down his arms, around his back, and down below his silk boxing shorts. You couldn’t look away.

  Whether he was really frighteningly dangerous or whether it was a fake persona, he was intoxicating eye candy.

  Could it be Jake in the limo with me?

  I couldn’t out right ask him. Obviously, with a blindfold on and headphones, I wasn’t to know any information beyond what they allowed me. Knowing that there was a tracking app on the cell phone I was provided with did ease my nerves. As long as my team could get a bead on me, I was okay. That was my naïve brain rationalizing. I was a detective, I should have known better, but I agreed to get in this limo and leave my partner standing on the sidewalk, promising not to rat me out. Lieu would no doubt string me up and hang me out to dry if he found out what I had conned Peters into doing.

  The car slowed and felt like it entered a cavernous space; it was a sense of coolness that alerted me to this. The late September setting sun wasn’t warming the side of my face through the window any longer, so maybe we were in a tunnel or a parking garage. Hopefully when we exited, I could figure it out.

  The limo door opened and cool, damp air rushed in, bringing goose bumps to my flesh. Strong fingers gripped my upper arm and I yelped out, taken by surprise.

  Damn it Alyson, get it together. You can do this, you can do this. I can be the picture of seduction, the lustful, wanting whore Jake ordered.

  Hopefully, whoever was with me saw my flinch as nervous, feminine silliness and not a weakness. I didn’t think Jake Von Larsen was one for weakness. I think he ate weakness for breakfast and then went back in for seconds.

  I could feel my heels clicking along the hard surface beneath them. It was smooth, not rutted or full of uneven swells or dips. Definitely a garage, most likely underground. Did Jake or whoever was in the back seat with me get out, or was that only a chaperone?

  I licked my glossed lips. “Hey stranger, wanna give a girl an idea of where you’re leading her? It’s not a den of snakes, right?” I added a giggle, probably louder than need be as I couldn’t hear anything else but the sound of my own voice in my ears.

  He responded by using his fingers to shake me and grip my upper arm harder. I guess that meant “shut up and move.” I gasped when I felt his arm circle my waist and support me as we traversed several steps. I felt the air move on my face when a door was opened. A long straight walk meant we were in a hallway. Turn to the right, another wafting of air, and we had entered a room. I rolled my neck to release some tension. The headphones came off, and although the room was silent, to my ears every click, tap, and breath was amplified.

  “Take a seat, leave the blindfold on.” That was the driver. I recognized his voice from when he gave me my first instructions.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.” My fingers reached back and felt the softness of an upholstered arm chair. Okay, so I was in a furnished room? No, it didn’t feel furnished; the sounds bounced around too much for there to be much of anything in the room. No carpeting on the floor. High ceilings, the click of the door lifted above me—I estimated a height of twelve feet or more. Perhaps an older building in the historical district?

  “Are you comfortable?”

  I jumped at the disembodied voice. Someone was speaking to me through a speaker system. If there was a speaker system, then they weren’t in the room with me, but viewing me somehow. Peephole, no, that wasn’t a millionaire’s way. Video cameras—yes, that seemed plausible. Okay, so I was alone. Did that ease my nerves? Not really.

  I took a deep cleansing breath. “I’m comfortable, are you?”

  No answer.

  Okay, he was playing hard to crack. I crossed my long legs and bounced my booted foot, leaning over my lap so the cameras could get a decent view of my bare cleavage. “How do you wanna play this, mister?” I let my tongue trace over my lips. Being flirty and sultry could not be conveyed through my eyes, so I needed to play up the poses. I angled a shoulder down so the strap of my camisole slipped off my shoulder.

  Hold it together.

  “Lose the clothes.”

  If he could see my eyes, he would have seen my shock at his demand. “What’s the rush, baby? Why don’t you come in here and introduce yourself proper like?”

  Proper like? What the hell was that? Did I suddenly time warp back to the eighteen hundreds?

  “You were hired for pleasure and what would be pleasing right now is to see what has been paid for. Take off your clothes.”

  “Hey, would a ‘please’ hurt you?” I stood up, pretending I was offended.

  The voice stayed quiet.

  He hadn’t said “me” or “I” yet. How did I know if this was Jake instructing me or one of his various cronies again? Oh God, what if there were a number of them all watching me from some secret room, enjoying a freaking circle jerk together? I smiled, proud of myself for remembering some of my very perverted education.

  “Begin.”

  “Okay okay, don’t get all twisted about it, honey.” Surprisingly, my fingers were steady as a rock. I managed to subconsciously flip the switch. This was a job, nothing more. It meant nothing to me. My body was no different than watching some National Geographic documentary. I could do this. I edged the sequined fabric over my stomach, ready to yank the top over my head.

  “Stop.”

  My top dropped back in place. “Change your mind, or are you finished already?”

  “Do you need it done for you or do you know how to be fucking sexy on your own?”

  Oh, this pissed me off and I felt my blood turn hot. Was this mystery voice challenging me?

  Fine.

  I sat back down and started with my boots, my body limber enough to let my tongue follow down the same path the zipper took against my skin, downward.

  No comment. Okay, he’s enjoying it. Keep it up.

  The leather booty shorts eased over the swell of my bottom as I bent over the chair, revealing the black lace thong I wore beneath. By the time my top made its way over my head, I was immersed in the role. I sat down and parted my legs, letting the camera, peep hole, or freaking cell phone, for all I knew, view the thin lace that covered my bare sex.

  “Use your hand.”

  “What?” Coming back to myself was like slamming into a brick wall.

  Compose yourself.

  “You’ve never pleasure
d yourself?”

  I set a sensual smile on my lips. “Oh sweetie, maybe you wanna come in here and show me how?”

  No comment.

  I followed his command. Of course I could do it. I mean, I had done it, I just didn’t know if I could do it for an audience.

  Alyson, find your head space.

  Once I found that space, I was good. My inner muscles began to twitch with the rhythm I created. I could hear my own shallow breathing and I let my vocal chords create the sounds that every man wanted to hear, nearing the climatic point.

  “Stop.”

  “I thought…”

  “That’s enough. You can go.”

  An hour later, I was safe in my quaint bungalow in Houston Heights, soaking in my tub. What the hell had happened? Did Jake decide I wasn’t for him? Some kind of Johnny Danger, Mr. Big Time Boxer, he could have come in that room and put me on my knees and he simply sent me home. Why? Maybe Jake Von Larsen was a powder puff. Maybe that was his gig—he wanted women, but didn’t know what to do with them once he got them. No wonder he’d used the escort website. Maybe Jake was a beast in the ring and a wet blanket in the sack. Wouldn’t that be a waste?

  Wait, how did I feel about that? Did this mean he was done with me, and why did that thought instantly bother me?

  2

  Jake

  “Stop. Do not finish.”

  The girl’s hand froze in place. I imagined she was frightened and the fact that she was only heightened my adrenaline surge. She’d served her purpose.

  “That’s enough. You can go now.”

  I pictured her blindfolded face as she pouted and searched, blindly fumbling, for her clothing.

  Sorry honey, hope you were able to finish at home.

  Fuck, her ass was outstanding. I drove my fist forward into the heavy bag. I could see her full form, from silken hair to pointed toe, in my head. I had been seated behind the surveillance mirror with the perfect vantage point, watching her, instructing her, commanding her every move. She left my cock raging.