The Rainmaker : Cole : A Von Larsen Crime Family Novel

by Piper Page

  “Funny,” I grumbled.

  “Have a drink.” Santiago handed me a small cup near my bed. I took it only because I needed to speak more clearly.

  Santiago sat down on the visitor’s seat. He crossed his arms and gave me that same patronizing look the doctor had. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

  I didn’t understand what he meant for a moment. It eventually dawned on me.

  “No, I never got to tell her who I was.”

  He shook his head. “She found out. When she saw the group of guys who showed up to check on you in the hospital, after you were shot at like that, she put two and two together.”

  “Shit.”

  “She ran out of here, but not before telling me to give you a note. I think she felt bad leaving you like this, even though I told her you’d be fine, you’re a tough bastard.”

  “Can I see it?” I started to reach.

  “You sure?” His lips were a hard line.

  I nodded. I needed to read it.

  Santiago handed me a napkin. “I don’t think you’re going to like it. But let me tell you something, no matter how bad it is, I’m glad you’re alive.”

  “Thanks for being here,” I told him. Honestly, I couldn’t do it without him, but right now, I needed to know about Krista.

  Written in shaky handwriting in ink, it read:

  “I’m sorry, I need to leave and go back home. I didn’t know who you really were.”

  I dropped the note. It seemed like my angel had seen the evil in me.

  Krista would want me out of bed, but she wouldn’t want me to try to find her.

  Chapter 7

  Krista

  * * *

  Before I entered Stiffy’s bar, I popped another anti-nausea pill. I swallowed it down with a bottle of water.

  I’d been popping these pills like crazy for the past week, ever since the pregnancy test came back positive.

  Surprise!

  Yeah, it was kind of a big deal. Especially because I was supposed to be unable to have kids. It turned out that the doctor had been wrong all along. I was always pretty careful—I’d seen those crazy shows where people who had their tubes tied ended up getting pregnant—so I’d been taking birth control pills still, but I’d messed up that day with Diego.

  Having a child didn’t scare me as much as it would’ve years ago. I’d grown up a lot. That didn’t mean I had no huge problems to face. But I had a plan for the future now. Without distractions in my life, I knew I could handle him or her. It would be a challenge, one I’d need to tackle.

  I heard Diego’s name all the time. I felt his touch on my body. I couldn’t shake him. With his baby inside me, I thought about him constantly.

  Telling him was weighing heavily on me. As I took the steps carefully into the dive bar, his voice called near my ear. A shiver ran down my spine, tickling me to the very tip of my toes. I checked behind me. No Diego. In the grocery stores or wherever I went shopping, I’d look up and expect to see him. It was never him.

  I’d missed him dearly. For the first few weeks, I’d been in a deep depression, because I didn’t believe I’d ever see him again.

  I’d worked my ass off. Until I got so sick I had to call off. Once the pregnancy test came back, my depression lifted somewhat. In the back of my mind, I figured that I would probably have to contact Diego again. At least I had a good reason to—the baby. I also had very good reasons not to.

  Why contact him? He’s a bad man. A drug dealer.

  Chin up, I entered Stiffy’s. Momma had to get paid.

  Stiffy’s was your standard dive bar. It had booths to the side, a few standing tables scattered about, and a long bar. On the floor was a horrid checkered pattern. It was always dimly lit inside, and you could bet that there would always be someone in the back playing on the single pool table.

  People always asked about the name if they weren’t from around here. Stiffy was Richard’s actual last name. So Dick Stiffy was his full name. And if you asked him, he wouldn’t think it was funny at all. He just named the bar Stiffy because that was his last name and he wasn’t creative enough to come up with anything else.

  I said hello to the regulars. There was Joe and Sam in the back, playing pool. At the bar there was the usual crew of blue collars: Jim, Craig, and Steve. They were all older and should’ve been retired if it weren’t for their low wages, a common problem around these parts.

  Karissa spotted me entering. She immediately approached and said, “Good luck, it’s been a rough night,” before she left.

  We had a few good customers who gave tips. These were not those customers.

  I really have to find a better job. I sighed as I put my back to the bar. It was time to put my game face on. I plastered a smile on and then went around to check on everyone.

  I poured a few drinks. Then I leaned back against the liquor cabinet. My mind turned toward my future. Toward Diego again.

  Forget him. He’s a bad man.

  The last time I saw him, he’d been stuck with tubes. The doctor told me he would survive, and he praised my efforts and how I stayed by him as the ambulances came. I’d done nothing but freak out while he bled all over the asphalt.

  Watching him die slowly in my arms, unable to do anything… It had been a nightmare. One that would wake me up at night like a flash of a knife across my bare skin. I’d wake, out of breath, my arms open as if I still held his bleeding body.

  This is not what you need in your life right now, I told myself. What I needed was a good paying job so I could afford college. I would get an even better paying job as a school teacher. Then I would find some nice, charming guy who wouldn’t bleed to death in my arms.

  I didn’t ask for much, did I?

  Diego was definitely off the table. My baby would do okay with only me. My father had been an only parent, and he’d done a great job.

  Oh gosh, if my father knew who Diego was, he’d never approve. I’d told him he was what I thought he was in the beginning, a businessman. I said he ran an accounting firm. I knew he was good with numbers.

  I just didn’t think he was dealing in coke and heroin before. Those were the wrong type of units to be dealing with.

  Instead of standing around, I washed and dried some dishes in the back. My movements at first lagged, but eventually thoughts of Diego didn’t weigh on me as heavily. I made up my mind; I would stick to it.

  Single motherhood, here I come. I just had to continue to believe in myself.

  No dishes were left for me to scrub, so I returned to the bar. I checked in on Joe, who needed another Brooklyn Lager. That guy really liked his Brooklyn Lager. For a Wednesday night, it was slow, and I didn’t think I’d pull great money. Joe left me another dollar.

  At the end of the night, I’d pull in probably thirty bucks at best.

  My hope rose when I heard the door open. More tips always made me happy. Then it plummeted when I saw who walked in.

  Bill.

  That Bill. The asshole-ex Bill who almost killed me drunk driving.

  What a nice guy.

  He entered, looking like he’d not taken up my suggestion of rehab. His wire-brush beard had gotten messier, his greasy hair ran down to his shoulders, and his skin had a ghoulish sheen.

  Following behind him were Jared, Craig, and Greg. Jared wore a shirt littered with holes. It looked like he’d survived a shotgun blast. The others wore typical t-shirts and jeans. Greg had on a big trucker hat that barely fit his head.

  They wobbled unsteadily when they walked. In slow motion, I watched their entrance. Bill staggered noticeably. I smelled the liquor on him as he drew near and threw himself onto the bar stool nearest to me.

  These were Bill’s friends I never approved of. They’d been his old high school buddies who never did anything with their lives. Since I left him, he went all in.

  Get out, I wanted to growl, but didn’t say a word. Get the hell out.

  He didn’t even try to hide his intentions. Hatred flashed o
ver him, his eyes dark.

  His friends took the seats next to them. I ignored them, instead attending to the other end of the bar.

  It became apparent that I’d not be serving them, once I turned my back and readjusted the liquor bottles so they all faced squarely ahead. In my peripheral vision, I watched Bill. He teetered on the seat. His hands rested on top of the bar, though, so I wasn’t worried about him pulling a weapon.

  For a moment, I thought he’d come here to kill me.

  If this was his best try to get me back, he shouldn’t have shown up drunk.

  My heart longed for Diego again. At least, with him, I’d learned what being with a real man was like.

  “Hey.” One of the guys whistled.

  Oh hell no, my rage tore from me. I thought I’d throw a bottle at their heads.

  I spun on my heels to face them. “Yes?”

  Bill jabbed his thumb against the bar as he slurred his words. “I want a drink.”

  Cautiously, I walked toward him.

  He showed me a lopsided grin. “What are you doing in a dump like this?”

  His hick buddies laughed, like it was the wittiest line they’d ever heard.

  “What do you want, Bill?” I said, my patience already wearing thin.

  “I want a beer,” he shouted.

  I sighed. “I’m afraid I’m not allowed to serve you if you’re visibly intoxicated.”

  “I’m visibly intoxicated?”

  I nodded. Even his friends looked at him like he was crazy. I was pretty sure they were laughing at him now.

  “If I was drunk, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” He got up. I flinched as I watched him try to walk a straight line.

  A table clattered to the floor as he bumped into it. Not picking it up, he returned to his stool. Did he expect me to serve him after that?

  “Bill,” I said. “You’re drunk. I can’t serve you if you’re drunk. If you get into an accident, it would mean the bar might be liable.”

  Like how you almost killed me, by driving off the road when you told me you weren’t drunk. Well, you were, except even worse—you’d been on pills and you’d drank. I’d gotten into the car, and by that point, it’d been too late because you argued with me that you were okay.

  We’d crashed into a tree. I’d been lucky, so very lucky, and so were you, asshole, that the tree crashed against the hood in just the right way. A few feet to the left or right and we’d not be here today.

  “I don’t care. Serve me.” He pounded his fist on the table.

  “Please, Bill,” I said.

  He’d never been violent with me. Leaving him might’ve pushed him over the edge as his face contorted in rage.

  “I said serve me,” he screamed.

  I froze. My muscles clamped tightly, so I wasn’t able to shake my head. Still, the fact that I didn’t move to get him his drink… It infuriated him.

  I would not budge.

  He stared back. As he did, the realization dawned on me how wild and unhinged he was.

  Bill simultaneously realized I wouldn’t be serving him. Ever again.

  Bill launched himself over the bar. Sharp pain lanced through my scalp as he caught my hair and pulled. I thrashed back, my fingernails digging into his flesh. He was so drunk he wouldn’t feel it.

  I reached behind me for anything. Around me, no one moved except for Bill’s friends, who stood and blocked anyone who tried to help.

  My fingers grasped something. I’d grabbed it enough times, serving people, to know it was a glass bottle of liquor. Pain cut into my tender scalp again as he yanked.

  As he pulled me close, I smashed the bottle over his head.

  Glass shards exploded over his face. I expected for him to tumble to the floor. Or at least for him to bleed a little.

  It must’ve hit him in the best way possible—for him. Because he stood there, as shocked as me that he wasn’t hurt. It dawned on him then that I’d tried to break a bottle over his head.

  Great. Really great.

  It didn’t work like it did in the movies. They usually get hit and go knocked out cold.

  “You bitch,” he snarled.

  He grabbed my hair and dragged me over to the edge of bar. His friends surrounded him as he did.

  Bill dragged me down. I threw my arm over my side to protect the baby, the force of the blow striking me there. Air escaped my lungs as I looked up at him, dazed, and begged for him to let me go.

  “Stop it, please.”

  All I cared about that moment was the baby. I was a mother now. A mother whose protective instincts kicked in. I would protect my baby at all costs.

  “What, are you trying to kill me?” Bill asked, completely unhinged. He snatched my hair again. This time, he pulled me out toward the door as I kicked and screamed.

  I heard one of the customers try to help me. There was rumbling and shouting. When it quieted, Bill still had a firm grip, my nerve endings burning like hellfire. He kicked open the door, and with his friends following, he pulled me closer to it.

  Rain poured into the bar, soaking the entrance. There were quite a few steps. I clutched myself to protect the baby.

  “Bill, don’t,” I yelled. “I’m pregnant. I have a baby. You’re going to hurt it.”

  He stopped.

  “Pregnant?” he screamed. “Whose baby is it? It’s not mine, is it?”

  “No.” Shit, why did I tell him? It only infuriated him more. I thought perhaps there might be a shred of decency left in him.

  I thought wrong.

  Bill yanked me harder. I caught the edge of the doorway and held on, but holding on wouldn’t do any good. He’d only tear me in two, so I let go.

  Rolling, I took the brunt of the blows off the steps onto my knees as I protected my child. It could’ve been a lot worse.

  My legs throbbed, but he wasn’t through yet. Bill lashed out at me. “You whore. You cheated on me.”

  “We weren’t even together,” I sobbed. Rain drenched me. In the distance, thunder cracked. Lightning lit up the sky.

  His friends surrounded me.

  When I pitifully looked up at them, asking for help, they smiled back like hungry wolves stalking their prey. How fucking evil were they? They were just as bad as Bill if they were going to stand there and watch. I’d never trusted them. My instincts had been right all along, but they hadn’t saved me.

  My vision shook. I lost my balance and gasped for air with one arm holding me up. Bill kept shouting at me. It was all a dull throbbing in my head, the words a confusing mess as thunder rolled in.

  I lost my strength, falling back onto my knees.

  I feared my baby and I would never get out of this alive.

  Chapter 8

  Diego

  * * *

  I’d been living out of a hotel room for a few days. I’d been biding my time. Waiting for the perfect moment.

  But the past few days, whenever I drove up to the bar where she worked, I forgot what I wanted to say, what I’d practiced.

  The truth was, I was a bad man, a very bad man. I’d done terrible things. Every time I tried to downplay that, it paralyzed me.

  I should’ve never tried to convince Krista I was anyone else. But she needed to hear it from me, at least, in person. As I rehabilitated, I went over everything I would say. And I’d changed it over a hundred times in my head.

  Finally, I had enough of this waiting around in the hotel. I needed to speak the truth to her, none of this rehearsed bullshit. I spotted her going to work a few times, as I’d been following her in order to figure out how to get to her, but every night, she worked late and looked very displeased.

  In my rental car, I pulled into the parking lot and waited. This area of New York was quite different from what I was used to, to say the least. The woods were enormous, stretching like the ocean I knew so well, and I’d been shivering when I landed. I wasn’t used to this cold. I wasn’t used to the space, either, how there seemed to be no one around.

&nbs
p; It all seemed very lonely, and it made me want to take Krista away even more. When I saw her walking into the bar, she looked down, not her usual sunny self—or rather, that version she graced me with in Puerto Rico.

  I waited. Once she finished her shift, I would talk to her. I would spill it all out and get her to come back to me.

  Surely, those times we had together weren’t fake. The way I made her happy, that was no lie. If she still didn’t want to come back with me, fine. Even if I was a bad man, I should at least get the chance to speak my mind.

  As I turned the volume knob to listen to the radio, the bar door slammed open. It smacked against the side of the building, jolting me in my seat.

  What I saw coming out brought that monster out of me. It tore free and before I could control it, I found myself out of my car and rushing to help Krista.

  Some asshole dragged her by her hair out onto the parking lot. Kicking and screaming, she tried to fight. It wasn’t just one man acting alone, either, but two more guys who looked real country. All three wore jeans and splotchy, worn t-shirts. The one dragging her looked pudgier with a beer gut and a trucker hat, and he sneered like a rabid dog as he pulled her out.

  I might have been an animal, but I’d never hurt an innocent woman.

  “Let her go,” I shouted.

  The guy dragging her in the cap let go. He snapped up and staggered toward me. “Who the fuck are you?”

  No time for talking. I wanted this man to suffer for what he did. My fist whipped him across the chin, and then I followed it up with three more jabs, each one striking him back. He fell onto the asphalt, knocked out cold.

  Seeing blood, I dropped down onto him and smashed his face in with a few more punches. I could’ve kept going, but noticed the other men charging. My right side throbbed where I’d been shot, but I didn’t fear continuing.

  I took my gun out of my back holster.

  “You fucking scum. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Now go. Run.”

  I waved the barrel at them. Their hands up, they took off.

  They weren’t out of the parking lot yet before I slid it back into the holster and crouched over Krista. She didn’t move a muscle, nor were there any movements beneath her eyelids.