Collar: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance: Delinquent Rebels MC, #3

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COLLAR: Delinquent Rebels MC (Book 3)

By Kathryn Thomas

SHE WAS OFF LIMITS, UNTIL I PUT HER ON MY LEASH.

SHE’S LIKE NO OTHER women I’ve had in my bed.

Too innocent to just defile.

Too good to just ruin.

But that was before I found out who her mother’s marrying...

She was the biggest mistake that I never should have let go.

I’ve left plenty of broken hearts behind me...

But I’ll be goddamned if April wasn’t the first one that made me care.

Made me feel.

I never thought I’d have her hair between my fingers again.

Never thought I’d fill my lungs with her scent again.

Watch the way her curves sway with every step.

I never thought that I’d get a second chance with her.

A second chance to right the wrongs of the past.

Until I found out who her mom’s marrying.

Until I found out that she’s off-limits in every way possible.

I’ve spent my entire life defying the rules.

And no rule—is going to keep April away from me.

CHAPTER ONE

April had never been to a jail before—or a prison, because apparently they were two different things. She’d never been in trouble with the police, never been a public menace. Sure, one time in college she’d been escorted out of the bar by security because she was a little too drunk for them to turn a blind eye toward. Back then, even in her intoxicated state, that had been the most embarrassing moment of her life: being paraded past all the other bar-goers who somehow managed to keep themselves together better than she did. It was that night that she decided it was time to ease back on the drinking, even for a college student.

But this was something else entirely. Bloomsburg was about an hour and a half away from Cascade Falls and was only slightly more industrial than her tiny lakeside town. There were a few more chain restaurants, a couple of fast food places, and a superstore that carried just about everything a person could need. Cascade Falls had, in her opinion, a little more class than Bloomsburg. The kids here were rougher; she’d known that even in high school. So, it didn’t surprise her that James Palmer had some sketchy business associate all the way out here.

She’d left as soon as she woke up that next morning, knowing that she couldn’t leave Van waiting for long. James had caught her on her way out, and the look she gave him let him know that he’d won, once and for all. She didn’t have it in her to go toe-to-toe with him. He’d already proven that he could be a dangerous son-of-a-bitch when he burned down her mom’s boutiques, and she’d let her feelings for Van cloud the fact that she’d put herself and her mom in very real danger by continuing with a relationship that that psychopath deemed unacceptable.

Even if Van had fought for her, she should have just gone home. June would have been back within a few weeks of her arrival, and her best friend could help her forget all about the man who’d stolen her heart and made her really feel things for the second time in her life. By now, maybe she would have met someone else, someone with less baggage, someone who wasn’t going to be her stepbrother in less than two weeks. Someone safe and a little boring.

At least with safe and boring she wouldn’t be sitting at the parking lot of a police station, mentally preparing herself to face her boyfriend behind bars.

Clearing her throat, she took a deep breath and checked her reflection one last time in the mirror. It wasn’t for vanity’s sake; April didn’t want to look miserable and exhausted, even if that was how she felt, when Van saw her. Even though she was here to call things off, she didn’t want to make him feel guilty for putting her through this. It wasn’t his fault his father was a sociopath bent on acquiring her mom’s fortune and keeping her and Van apart. Though, if she was being honest, it was hard not to be frustrated with him: Van made her love him in nothing more than a couple of months, and now she had to destroy them because of his family.

Once she was half ready, barely ready, April climbed out of her mom’s car, which she’d taken without telling her—though she’d left a note—and slammed the door shut. Just as she locked it, a cruiser pulled up to the spot across the small parking lot from her, and April watched as a new arrestee was hauled out and walked into the building, his hands in cuffs. She gulped, suddenly feeling very small in front of the station. It was just brick, nothing more. She ought to be more frightened of the men inside than the walls facing her.

The entrance hall was bustling with people, both average and official alike. No one paid her any attention, and she followed the signs through the pastel yellow painted hallways, the linoleum tile making everything just that much more depressing, until she reached the counter she wanted. There was a line, so she waited, patiently, until it was her turn, and then stated that she was here to see Van Palmer.

You paying his bail? the woman behind the counter asked, clacking away at her computer without looking up at April. She nibbled her lip, hesitant, and then asked how much the bail was set at. When the woman listed the price, her stomach flew up into her chest. She didn’t even have that much money in all of her accounts, period.

No, April admitted, her cheeks bright red as the woman’s stare wandered her way. Just a visit, I guess.

The woman arched a thin eyebrow at her. You know... this isn’t just some hotel where you can visit your man whenever you feel like it.

I called ahead, she said in a very small voice. I was told it’d be okay to see him.

After another hard look, the woman behind the desk picked up an old corded phone with a sigh, then she spoke into it in a hushed voice. April fidgeted with her purse strap, acutely aware that the eyes of everyone else in the line were on her.

Go to those doors down the hall, the woman told her after a very long couple of minutes of talking on the phone, clicking around her computer, and grabbing some paperwork. She thrust the papers into April’s hands. You get ten minutes to talk, then we have to pull you out. Standard procedure, you understand.

Yes, thank you, April said, as she grabbed the papers and made a beeline for the doors outlined in orange paint. Once in there, she was stopped by a pair of security guards. One took her purse and started rooting through it, and the other, another female officer, searched her person. Pockets. Bra. Shoes. Everything.

Can’t have visitors bringing in any weapons or illegal substances, the male officer remarked when he handed her purse back. She nodded, and while she understood, she couldn’t help but feel totally violated at the same time.

When they were through patting her down, April was taken to a separate building where they housed the prisoners. Most were short-term stays from what she gathered, and she was beyond relieved that she wasn’t forced to walk by the cell blocks. Unlike all the movies and TV shows that had prisoners screaming at visitors and making kissy noises, the establishment was pretty damn quiet.

Van was already waiting for her when she finally found him, seated at a table in a small room, his hands cuffed to a metal loop on the tabletop.

No touching, the guard said when she went to hug him, and April made her way around the table to the other chair stiffly. Once they were alone, all she could do was stare at him. He looked tired, yes. In the last three days, his face had lost a little weight, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they were feeding him properly. Apparently Palmer prejudice was a thing, given the astronomical amount his bail was set at.

Hi, he breathed, reaching across the table for her. April reached back, threading her fingers through his. Fuck the no touching rule.

I wanted to come last night, she assured him, but it... wasn’t going to happen.

Doesn’t matter, he insisted with a shake