Jerk: Delinquent Rebels MC (22 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” April hissed into the phone, as she paced the front hall of the biker safe house. The silence inside had made her skin crawl the second she stepped into it almost an hour ago, and she’d turned on every single light possible to make herself feel a little safer—as if lights would scare away anyone who wanted to hurt her.

Although it hadn’t been easy, she’d managed to slip out from James’s curious stare when Thanksgiving dinner came to an end. Grabbing her stowaway bag, which had been packed the night before in preparation for the big day, April had snuck out of the Palmer estate and made a run for it—straight to her mom’s car, which she borrowed for the time being. If either of them were to ask, she planned to tell them there was an old high school dinner being held at a friend’s place, and she got too drunk on wine to drive home.

In retrospect, she probably shouldn’t have been driving at all. She’d had more than her fair share of wine during the meal, but it seemed all the food she’d ingested—along with the frigid November air—had sobered her up enough to follow directions. The safe house was a good half hour away from Cascade Falls, still technically within the town limits, but off in the woods where people built cottages and lake houses, all of them abandoned until summer rolled back in again. Smart investors bought up the land as fast as they could to make use of it during the small tourist rush in July and August.

When she’d arrived, she noted that the house where they’d hide Van looked just as Mike had described it—two stories, exposed brick, and wooden beams. Following the information Mike texted her earlier that day, April had to go into the cobweb-littered basement to turn on the heat and electricity, which, outside of the way she sometimes felt James’s eyes roaming her body, was the low-point of the afternoon.

“I just can’t get away,” Mike insisted. Apparently his kids had shown up as a surprise that afternoon with cars full of food, demanding that they have a family Thanksgiving back in their old childhood home. Mike was
supposed
to meet April at the safe house, and instead she was there alone, listening to the sound of people chattering and laughing through her phone. Occasionally there’d be some kids screaming, which grated on her already sensitive nerves.

“But—“

“Look, it’s you Van will want to see anyway,” he told her. “Rabbit texted me earlier to say things were going smoothly, so you don’t even need me, really.”

She bit her lower lip, her stomach churning a few times over at the thought of seeing Van again. Sure, the plan had always been for the two to reunite: she was desperate to tell
someone
all the awful things James had threatened her with, and Van seemed like the right person to finally open up to. After all, she had a sinking suspicion that James was the reason Van was in prison in the first place—it only seemed fair that he get the whole story.

But she hadn’t seen him since August, and back then she was breaking his heart at a county jail. A part of her wanted a buffer between them the first time they saw each other again, and since she’d grown comfortable around Mike, April had wanted it to be him. However, it seemed like she was about to face this hurdle on her own—and she wasn’t sure she could do it.

“Maybe I should go,” she said, her pace quickening, as she stalked up and down the hall. “I mean, maybe it will be kind of overwhelming for him to come out and be around other people.”

“I can guarantee you he will want to be around familiar faces,” Mike told her, and she swore she heard a hint of a smile in his tone. “Look, don’t be nervous. He begged me to find you. He said you were the one hope he had, and just watching you talk about him… Well, April, it made me realize that helping him really was the right thing to do.”

She tried to swallow the lump of raw emotion that had suddenly gathered in her throat, but failed. “Really?”

“Yup.” In the background, voices called for Mike to get back to dinner. “Look, I gotta go. More stuffing to eat, I guess.”

“Must be nice.”

“You bring any food for Van?”

“Whatever I could find and hide yesterday,” she said lamely, only just realizing how disappointed Van would be that there wasn’t a Thanksgiving feast waiting for him. It was a day of overabundance; there was no reason why she couldn’t have filled up a few containers of leftovers and brought them.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy he isn’t eating whatever garbage they serve on the inside anymore,” Mike remarked, and April had a suspicion that he was trying to make her feel better about being a terrible post-prison hostess. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

“But I know you won’t,” he added, “need me, that is.”

“Well—“

“Just enjoy the moment,” he said, and before she could argue the point any further, Mike had hung up. Silence crept back over her, and without giving it much thought, April wandered into the small kitchen and turned on the radio. Over the years, the men who made use of the cabin had spruced it up and paid for repairs. Most of the furniture was new. Everything was remarkably clean—a welcome surprise, given how infrequently it was used during the winter. Surrounded by thick trees and backing down onto the lake, it was tucked away from the rest of civilization. In a way, the silence was almost peaceful.

The peace was shattered, however, at the roar of an engine. Not a bike—it didn’t sound like one, anyway. April hurried out of the kitchen, hastily making her way to the front room that overlooked the long driveway that wound through the trees. Sure enough, just like Rabbit had planned, a delivery truck was making its way toward the house. It was too dark to make out the driver, but April could only see one person in the front seat. Her heart sank: Mike had said Rabbit told him things were going fine, so why couldn’t she see Van anywhere?

A horrible feeling gripped her, as she stared out the window: what if James had found out about their plan and intercepted things on the way? Mike assured her James had only heard rumors about this particular cabin, but she doubted a man as powerful and well-connected to the underground world as James Palmer wouldn’t know that his own club members had bought and built a secret cabin for weekend retreats.

Even with her concerns, April pushed away from the window and hurried to the front door. Her feet had taken on a mind of their own again, and she had to force herself back inside to throw on her boots and coat before she went out to meet the truck. For a final measure, she flipped the switch to turn on the porch lights, then stood there, waiting, as the truck finally slowed and stopped by the front steps. Once the headlights were off, her arm dropped, no longer needed to shield her face, and she gave a nervous smile when she saw Rabbit behind the wheel.

Gruff as ever, the man barely returned the expression, instead climbing out and stretching. He seemed to be wearing some kind of uniform, which she assumed went along with the ruse of delivering the food for Thanksgiving dinner. Arms wrapped around herself, she hurried down the few steps and looked in the cab portion of the truck, frowning when she saw it was empty.

“Did you get him?” she asked, her heart hammering so loudly in her chest that she was sure the folks back in Cascade Falls could hear it. Rabbit nodded, and when he said nothing in response to it, she raised her eyebrows and gestured to the front seats. “And? Where is he?”

Rabbit produced a cigarette out of nowhere—though it might have been behind his ear—and struck a match off the side of the truck, lighting it and taking a few drags. April waited, her hands in fists, her teeth threatening to chatter in the night air. Finally, he gestured to the cargo end of the large delivery truck.

“In the back.”

“What?!” she exploded, her cheeks reddening, as his eyes narrowed at her. “He’s in the
back
?! It’s freezing out here!”

Probably just as cold inside. Not bothering to wait and hear his excuse, she hurried around to the back and started undoing the latches, though she needed Rabbit’s key to get the final lock off.

“Not like I was going to drive by all the roadside cameras with an escaped felon sitting beside me,” he grumbled, and April scoffed, her arms crossed.

“He could have worn a hat or something.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement,” Rabbit said with a grunt, finally opening the lock and taking it off. She stepped back as the door rose noisily, waiting, her breath catching in her throat.

For a few long seconds, all she saw were boxes and storage bins. A frantic look to Rabbit saw him totally unfazed, still puffing away at his cigarette. Just as she took a step toward the dark container, a shadowy figure emerged from behind one of the green storage boxes. Tall and broad, he clambered forward, and April let out a soft gasp when she finally saw Van Palmer again. Looking more than a little worse for the wear, it was almost too obvious to her that he’d lost weight, though the gravity of his appearance didn’t hit until he was out of the truck and standing in the porch light.

There was a sunken quality to his cheeks that there hadn’t been before, and she tried not to focus on the dark hue around his eyes. Clearly, he’d been having a rough time, and she almost felt guilty that it had taken her this long to realize that he didn’t belong behind bars. Well, no, she knew that all along, but it had taken her too many months to grow a backbone and do something about it.

His eyes darted to Rabbit for a split-second, then honed in on her—and there they stayed. Swallowing thickly, she debated hanging back until he came to her, but that plan lasted about two seconds. Before she could stop herself, April rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck, dragging him into a hug whether he wanted one or not. Her body pressed against his, and it lacked the width it once had. Without meaning to, her hand wandered up his back and buried in his hair, fisting around its thickness like that was where it always belonged.

Van didn’t hug her back right away, but she could feel the way his body trembled, as she held him. Finally, his face sunk into the crux of her neck and shoulder, and his arms encircled her waist, dragging her even closer. His name slipped through her slightly parted lips, nothing more than a whisper, and her eyes suddenly prickled with unexpected tears. It felt so good to hold him again, to be held by him again. The cold didn’t bother her anymore—she barely felt it—and for a fleeting few moments, April couldn’t imagine ever letting him go.

But she did, of course. It was what was best for both of them. They gave one another a few inches of breathing space, but when her head tilted back, it took every ounce of restraint in her being not to push up on her toes and kiss him. His lips were practically
begging
to be kissed, and while he seemed tired, a hunger blazed in his eyes that made her shiver.

Her eyes widened a little when he went in for the kiss instead, but she turned away at the last moment. This was his first moment of freedom, and there was a lot Van needed to do in the coming weeks to ensure he never went back to prison again. There was no need to muddy the waters by hopping back into the confusing state of affairs that was their relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to him—to either of them—and so, as much as it pained her, April turned away and stepped around him.

“Let me get you something to… to put on,” she muttered, as she made a hasty retreat to the porch. Van said nothing as she went, and when she glanced back, April spotted him speaking with Rabbit. Their breaths fogged out between them, and their hushed tones made it impossible for her to eavesdrop. Shaking her head, she hurried inside and grabbed the thick blanket off the couch in the living room. Sitting in the back of that truck had probably chilled him to the bone, and once he was through with Rabbit, she planned to get some food into him, then put him in a hot shower.

He could probably do with both. Hell, if she’d been locked behind bars for almost four months, she would be desperate for both—among other things.

And judging by the look in his eye when she set the blanket across his shoulders, Van was hungry for other things, too.

***

There were a lot of things in life that you didn’t realize just how much you loved until they were gone. Showers, for instance. Private showers. With actual opaque curtains and a legitimately clean floor. Van could have stood in there forever, his body slowly thawing from the outside in as a steady stream of near scalding water pummeled him. With two cans of beans in his stomach, along with a few slices of buttered toast, he was pretty damn happy in that moment. Stressed, sure. Who wouldn’t be after breaking out of jail with the help of a sketchy biker pal? But the quiet solitude here in the cabin, surrounded by woods on one side and the lake on the other, was exactly what he needed to start to feel normal again.