Jerk: Delinquent Rebels MC (18 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Van had always been a deep sleeper. Even if he was in a weird place or a weird mood, he could usually fall asleep within a couple of minutes and stay asleep until his body had however many hours was required each night. His time in the county jail was a bit of a test: there’d been too many guys for the few benches in the cell, which meant Van had to sleep on the floor. Sure, he could have fought them for a spot, but he wasn’t about to let those cops think that the whole Palmer line was the same. His dad would have paid someone to fight the biggest guy in the room for him, and everyone would know, in the end, that James Palmer was the brains behind the brawn and he ought not to be fucked with.

Van had chosen a different path for his life. He’d decided years ago that he wasn’t going to be another crony on the dark side of his dad’s motorcycle club; he really wanted to make something of himself legitimately.

And somehow, he’d wound up in the place he
would
have ended up in had he been dealing drugs and breaking kneecaps and all the other shit that those guys did. Somehow
he
was the one in a fucking detention center, despite his clean record—or maybe
because
of his clean record—and the guys who did most of the dirty work for his dad were out on the streets. The irony made him sick more times than he could count, and he’d only been behind bars officially for a few weeks.

Tonight was the first night he’d been assigned a bed with the general prison population. He’d spent a few weeks getting acquainted with everything, waiting for a work detail, learning the lay of the land—all the crap first-timers did. His dad, apparently, was the one pushing him through a speedy trial, and the old man informed him that he was looking at
years
instead of months if he waited for the system to sort him out. So, Van had to fall on his dad’s good graces, as much as he didn’t want to, and accept that he had to do time for a crime he didn’t commit.

A lot of the other guys would say the same thing there. They’d argue that they were set up, that someone had framed them—but in Van’s case, he was actually speaking the truth. He’d never done drugs, not even recreationally at parties. Alcohol was the only drug he’d put in his system, and since owning a bar, his intake of even the weak stuff had decreased considerably. How the drugs wound up in his bag specifically was a mystery to him. A lot of the other guys bailed as soon as the cops put him in cuffs, and the few that hung around were just as clueless as he’d been.

The only difference was that those guys actually got out. Their bails were paid in a matter of days by family and friends, while Van’s pricey fee for release was never touched. He’d known his dad had been running low on funds for the last few years, but he never thought he’d be cheap enough to let his son sit in a cell.

But then again, his dad
had
bribed whomever he needed to in order to get Van in his current location. It was maybe a half-hour drive from Cascade Falls, and most of the guys in there were petty criminals who only needed minimum security. Max security was up the road, and since Van had arrived, there’d been a few transfers of some of the old-timers down to his facility. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but he’d been trying to make the best of it since they handed him a jumpsuit and told him breakfast was at seven o’clock
sharp
.

As was expected, he’d been placed with a bunch of other white guys, taking a bed in a cell block of about fifty prisoners. There were dividers to offer some hint of privacy between the sleeping cubes, though the walls only came up to Van’s armpits and were pretty damn thin. His new roommate was a quiet kind of guy—in for insurance fraud. He had a year left on his sentence, and he told Van he just tried to keep his head down and fly right. Gus was his name—seemed like a pretty okay guy. As far as roommates went, it could have been worse.

The snoring was outrageous that night. He’d just come from the new arrivals hall where he’d roomed with four other people, but nothing compared to the sounds of fifty assholes sawing wood late into the night, exhausted from doing… whatever the hell they did all day to keep busy. Normally, the noise wouldn’t have bothered him. Hell, he’d slept through the roar of motorcycle engines singing into the early hours of the morning, and this sounded almost the same. Something was keeping him up, and he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was the new surroundings. Maybe it was the exceedingly hard bed whose covers he’d learned he shouldn’t sleep under. (Bunk inspection was a bitch, apparently.)

Whatever it was, Van spent the better half of the night tossing and turning, his old bedspring squeaking each time. Gus made no noise when he slept. It was like looking at a fucking statue.

Maybe he couldn’t sleep because there wasn’t a warm, supple body beside him. It had been a long time since he’d wrapped his arms around April, and he imagined that if she was here with him now, he would have fallen asleep in all of two seconds. But he’d never want her here. As much as it broke his heart to see her go, sometimes he wondered if she was better off without him.

Other times, he couldn’t help but think she’d been forced to break things off somehow—something he’d yet to discuss with dear old dad, but planned to do as soon as possible.

Huffing irritably, Van rolled over the umpteenth time, his head a little sore from resting on such a thin pillow with zero support. Something about
this
particular movement felt different. Even with his eyes closed, he sensed someone was watching him. Maybe Gus was a bit of a creep after all. He tried to ignore it, willing his brain to shut off, but when something that sounded suspiciously like a footstep sounded just a few feet away, his eyes snapped open, and he saw a dark figure lunge toward him.

With a sharp object.

If he’d been asleep, he probably would have been stabbed.

Great—should make falling asleep all the rest of the nights a total breeze.

He reacted quickly, arms shooting up and blocking his attacker’s lunge, and then rolled out of bed and dragged the guy down to the floor. The commotion woke Gus, and as Van tried to wrestle the shank-wielding asshole off him, Gus started screaming for the guards. It was the loudest Van had heard him speak yet—though he didn’t step in and help. No, it was the older guy in for petty theft a few bunks down who came to his rescue, dragging the attacker off him while Van laid a few cheap shots at the guy’s face.

Blood trickled down from his nose as the lights came on, and suddenly there were a handful of guards in there screaming at everyone, telling them to stay in their cubes. As Van sat up, he realized the attention of everyone in the block was on him. A few of the guys looked concerned. Some seemed annoyed to have been woken up.

But there were a few… a few who wore the mask of indifference, and that set him on edge.

“Fuck you, Palmer!” his attacker screamed. Van’s eyes narrowed, but he stayed at the far end of his little cube, watching them drag the guy off. He was a junkie; Van could tell just by looking at him, and he wouldn’t have stood a chance if they’d fought squarely. They hadn’t said two words to each other since Van arrived in the sleeping hall earlier in the day. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever seeing the guy, and Van had an eye for tattoos. The ones that swirled up the junkie’s arms were intricate. Definitely memorable.

“Okay, let’s go,” one of guard’s said, grabbing Van by the arm and dragging him forward. “Gotta fill out a statement.”

“That guy tried to kill me,” he hissed, and the realization hit him as soon as he said it out loud. Someone had tried to murder him tonight while he slept. When would it happen again? Were there others? Was this a one-off incident because that psycho thought Van looked at him the wrong way? It wasn’t the first time he’d been in a fight, and he knew he could handle himself, but he wasn’t in the mood to get cornered by a bunch of assholes because someone outside of prison was paying them to take him out.

Sweat trickled down his face, as he was marched away from the scene of the crime.

He had the get the hell out of here—fast.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Hello, love of my life!”

April’s cheeks tinted at her best friend’s exuberant greeting as the people on the sidewalk around her glanced back curiously. A chilly fall breeze tickled the exposed skin on her hands, neck, and face, and she was glad she’d opted for jeans today instead of a thick skirt and tights. Her strawberry-blonde locks were tucked under her wool cap, and a part of her worried she’d have horrible hat hair when she took it off.

Not that it mattered: she’d always pale in comparison to June, the woman who’d steadily become her closest friend ever since her old college days. In true June fashion, she’d fled Bowmansville around the time April returned, explaining that she was off to visit some friends in Europe before the weather went sour. It had been the early days of September at the time, and now, a month later, the woman was finally back—and April could
finally
get everything off her chest.

Just as she’d planned, she left Cascade Falls as soon as James Palmer and her mom were officially married. Sure, she stayed for a few days after, enjoying the post-wedding festivities with as much fake enthusiasm as she could muster, while also overseeing the final sale of her mom’s apartment. A wealthy buyer from out of town had finally paid top dollar for the place, apparently planning to turn it into a hotel suite of sorts, eager to compete with the thriving bed-and-breakfast industry that Cascade Falls boasted. April didn’t really care who bought it. That apartment was her final tie to the town, and once her mom had moved all of her things into James’s huge estate, April was out of there.

If she could, she’d never look back. Everything about Cascade Falls made her heart ache after the turbulent summer she’d had there. Falling in love was scary, but being forced
out
of love—and only realizing when it was over that you were actually in love—was devastating. She’d had no contact with Van Palmer since she ended things in the county jail, though she knew through her mom that he’d been moved into a minimum security facility somewhere near home, and that he wasn’t sentenced for very long. Apparently, James
could
follow through. April had broken both her and Van’s hearts, just as that awful man wanted, and in return, James made sure Van wasn’t locked away for life.

And he probably used her mom’s money to do it. From what she understood after leaving Cascade Falls, the gossip mill following her all the way back to the metropolis of Bowmansville, was that the Palmer fortune had run increasingly dry over the years—and many assumed he was marrying for money. Why she hadn’t heard any of these whispers when she was in town astounded her, but the more she thought about it, the more April realized James’s vice-like grip on the community was stronger than she thought. People in Cascade Falls probably knew better than to gossip about James in town, but once they were out, the rumors ran rampant.

She couldn’t say anything to her mom—not after April had seen exactly what James was capable of. For now, she was stuck, constantly worrying that that awful man would do something to secure her mom’s money by any means necessary while also fearing that, despite his promises, James Palmer wasn’t exactly done with April quite yet.

“You look beautiful!” June said as they hurried toward one another, both of their arms extended and ready to wrap the other in a giant hug. “Have you lost weight?”

April wrapped her arms around June’s midsection, burying her face in the woman’s coat. She smelled like peaches and vanilla, looking tan and trim. Her olive skin tone always took to the sun well, and she’d never been one to dye her hair; it was the same glossy brown it had always been. June oozed easy confidence, and April couldn’t help but wonder if that came from the easy life she’d led up until this point.

Still, you’d never know she came from a ridiculously wealthy family just by looking at her or talking to her. She was sweet, down to earth, pleasant—kind, above all else.

“Maybe,” April said in regards to the woman’s question. “I mean, you haven’t seen me since, what, January? It’s possible.”

In fact, she’d shed quite a lot of weight since Van was arrested, her stress diminishing her appetite to almost alarming proportions. Luckily, she was slowly mellowing out—now that she had put a good distance between her and James, but she was still down at least fifteen pounds from where she’d been at the start of the summer. Her mom would have a fit if she saw April in a bikini now, and she was glad the cool fall weather allowed her to layer up.

“I’ve missed you
so
much,” June gushed, keeping an arm around April’s shoulders as people skirted by them on the sidewalk. It was barely midday, but the downtown core of Bowmansville was always busy. April had a day off from her position as an assistant manager at the same boutique she’d worked in before she left for Cascade Falls, but every shift was painful. Now that she was back, she almost couldn’t stand dragging herself into work the few times a week that she did, and she was constantly on the hunt for something more degree-appropriate in Manhattan or LA or Chicago. Anything to get her out and get her some respect.

Anything to take her far away from James and Van Palmer would do. Hell, she’d even pack up and leave the US if she needed to, but that was only if the offer was really, really good.

The two women strolled toward their favorite downtown coffee joint, arms still around one another, the conversation endless. By the time they were up at the register to place their order, neither knew what they were getting because they hadn’t shut up once since stepping into the store, and much to the annoyance of the people behind them, they hummed and hawed over their order for a minute or two before placing it. Red-faced again, April took their little table number sign and shuffled off after June, who seemed oblivious to the issues they’d caused by not being prepared at the register.

They chose a pair of cushy armchairs by the window, despite the fact April had ordered a salad alongside her coffee, and she prompted June to launch into her grand retelling of her escapades through France, Italy, Germany, and Austria—plus the one wild night in Amsterdam. It was nice to live through someone else for a change, someone who actually did something adventurous and crazy. Even if April wasn’t the adventurous and crazy type, she still enjoyed listening to someone who was.

“Enough about me,” June said as the pair enjoyed their lunch. Outside, the sky had started to cloud over, and by the looks of the people walking around, the wind had picked up too.
Should be a wonderful walk back to my apartment—not
, April thought.

“I could listen to your stories all day,” she admitted, almost dreading where the conversation was headed. June cocked her head to the side, as she ripped off a piece of her muffin and popped it in her mouth. “Why don’t you tell me again about the guy in Italy who—“

“You’ve heard the story twice, in detail,” her friend argued with a slight shake of her head. “We’re going to talk about you, and why you’re not back in Cascade Falls with that gorgeous stepbrother of yours. Did work call you back?”

April swallowed hard and shook her head. “No. Work was fine with me taking as long as I wanted off, surprisingly. They hired another assistant manager, and she’s a total workaholic, so I get like two shifts a week these days—“

“April.” June set her muffin aside and crossed her arms, fixing her with an even stare. “Why are you here? Did you guys break up or something?”

“Or something, I guess.” She nibbled her lower lip. Going into their lunch date, April had known June would want more information on what had happened with her and Van. After all, they hadn’t talked much since June surprised her with a phone call in the middle of the summer, and since then, everything had just been a chaotic whirlwind of metaphorical shit hitting the metaphorical fan. In that time, she’d sort of kept her best friend in the dark. Then, June was travelling again, and April was trying to rebuild her heart through trashy TV and copious amounts of ice cream…

“Spill it,” June ordered, poking April’s leg with her foot. “Now. In detail. I want to know everything that happened. Did he turn into an asshole? You said he was a player back in high school.”

Her lip wobbled when she thought about Van, a crushing tightness in her chest making it difficult to draw a full breath. No, Van hadn’t done anything. He’d been perfect—nothing that had happened was his fault. He’d built his own bar honestly. He’d spoiled April relentlessly. He’d confronted his dad for her.

And in return, because he wanted their relationship to continue, he’d ended up in jail. Prison. Minimum security facility.
Whatever
.

“It’s kind of a long story, I guess,” April started with a sigh. “We were doing okayish the last time you and I talked…”

She regaled June with almost everything that had happened with her and Van, including her concerns about becoming his stepsister and still continuing the relationship. When she mentioned that he’d been arrested, June was floored, but she kept her reaction toned down, probably for April’s sake. While she mentioned that James wasn’t a fan of the relationship, she couldn’t tell June, her best friend, the extent at which he’d interfered. Even here, miles and miles away, she worried what might happen if she told anyone the truth.

“He threatened to tell my mom about us,” was the best April could do. “Mom wouldn’t have taken it well, and she had enough stress going on with the wedding. It didn’t seem worth it to… to… You know. He was in the county jail anyway, and I didn’t know how long he’d be going away for. It seemed easier to just cool things off until our future was more certain.”

June stared at her for a long moment, as if absorbing all the new information, and then shook her head. “I get not wanting to do the whole… dating a guy in prison thing. I mean, I wouldn’t want to drive out there every weekend just to see him. Dating would be kind of tough.”

“Kind of very tough,” she agreed, jumping on the prison bandwagon and hoping June would ignore the rest. “I mean, we weren’t even allowed to touch when I saw him at the county jail. I don’t think I could do a whole… I don’t know, he was fifteen months or something.”

“But you seemed like you really liked him regardless,” June continued, sticking her with that same even look that April knew meant the woman was trying to worm the truth out of her. “If James told your mom about you guys, would it really be that big of a deal? He had
that
much power over you just because he was going to expose a little secret? Seems a bit… off, April.”

“It’d break my mom’s heart,” she said absently, as she reached for her coffee and brought it up for a sip. “She really wanted us to be a family. Brothers and sisters don’t date.”

“Or whatever else you guys did,” June added, wiggling her eyebrows. April offered a scandalized look, though she wasn’t exactly feeling it. Her friend must have noticed, and she cocked her head to the side, frowning. “Are you sure that’s everything? You just seem so… down.”

Clearing her throat, April nodded and forced a brilliant smile, the same kind that she forced at work. It hurt to use such a shameless tactic on June, but she didn’t see any way around it. She wasn’t happy without Van, and she couldn’t tell anyone the truth about what had happened. So, she thought that maybe she ought to get used to faking it.

“I’m just tired,” she lied, waving off her friend’s concerns. “I mean, it’s hard rehashing any breakup, but what’s done is done. I’m just trying to move on. Forget about my ex, now in prison.” June’s lip twitched, clearly finding her tone amusing. April grinned, rolling her eyes, as she saw a way out of this particular conversation. “Find a new job. Make use of the degree I spent all that money on. You know… be an adult finally.”

And forget that for a time, she’d been desperately in love with Van Palmer; she just hadn’t realized it until he was gone.

***

Despite what one might think, getting time to use the phones while locked away wasn’t especially difficult. If Van had been put in max security with a stricter routine, maybe he would have struggled more to make contact with the outside world. However, given his current position, it wasn’t hard to find time to use one of the eight payphones lined up by the administration offices. A guard always stood watch; it seemed some poor bastard had a whole day of phone duty to look forward to. Plus, the cell blocks each had a designated few hours during the day when they were allowed to make phone calls.

It was a pain now, however, to try and remember everyone’s phone number. When he was a kid, he used to know all the important numbers by heart. Hell, he’d even made little songs in his head to make remembering the nine digit codes easier. These days, all the necessary numbers were stored on a person’s phone, and if they couldn’t find them there, the internet was just a click away, and soon enough anything you wanted was within reach.