Chasing Claire (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) (33 page)

“Let’s go grab a beer and join the boys, what do you say?” Pinky suggested.

“Great idea! I could use a couple of cold ones right about now,” I responded. “I’ll go and grab the cash crew and be right there.

“I’m going to just run the dishwasher and organize a few things in the fridge,” Glory said to me.

I turned and put my arms gently around her shoulders. “You can’t avoid him forever, honey.”

Glory looked at me, a small measure of sadness darkening her light blue eyes. “Sure, I can.”

But then she grinned. “It was a great couple of days, Claire. It felt good being a part of it.”

I squeezed her tight and said, “Have a beer before you go?”

Glory nodded. Then she turned and began piling things into the refrigerator.

I knocked softly at the club office door, and Diego answered it.

I could see Jules and Raine seated behind him. Prosper leaned against the corner wall. A pile of checks sat on one side of the desk, and several stacks of cash were on the other side. A couple of ledger books and a calculator were placed in front of them.

“How’d we do?” I asked.

My sister smiled. “Great. Better than last year. After we pay for
the food and some of the other expenses, we have raised about ten thousand dollars in donation money. I just wrote out the check to the East Coast Wounded Men and Women in Military Project.”

I nodded and smiled. “That’s great. I called them yesterday and told them that we would have a check ready for them. They said they would send someone to come get the money. Prosper, please remember to make sure you are around for the photo. I want to take a picture of you donating the money and send it in to the local papers.”

“And I already told you, Claire, that I don’t want my damn picture taken.” Prosper’s voice grumbled out into the room. “Last time we did something like this, the Associated Press picked that shit up.”

“Worried about Interpol?” Diego grinned at him. Jules looked up from the pile of money and chuckled.

“No, smart ass. It’s just that it ain’t about that,” he snarled.

I crossed my arms and looked at him.

“And I told you that a little bit of good press never hurt anybody. This club does a lot for the townships and nobody knows about it, and that’s okay. A few thousand here or there for the schools or playgrounds, that’s the kind of give back that’s expected, I guess. But this is more than that. A lot of the guys in the charters are veterans, and they’re proud to do their part. It’s not like the Saints are exactly rolling in good press, lately.”

Prosper snorted but everyone else nodded in agreement, a gesture of goodwill could not hurt.

Prosper went on to grumble and I countered each grumble with a well-pointed argument. It didn’t matter, anyway. I had already called the Project about our donation and they were eager to receive it. I just hoped that once they were here, Prosper would consent to the photo op. If not, I would sic Pinky on him. Despite his grumbling and protests to the contrary, there really wasn’t much the big man could deny her.

And more often than not, Pinky was on my side.

With the money counted and the compound cleaned, it was time to take a well-deserved break. I went back into the kitchen and put a few beers and the rest of the leftover sandwiches on a tray. Then I headed for the picnic tables. Everyone but Glory came out for lunch, and I noticed a measure of disappointment in Jules’s eyes. We sat at the large tables drinking and eating and talking; we were just like any other family after a weekend of hard work.

The distant roar of an engine signaled that someone was coming up the road to the compound. We all turned to watch as the SUV made its way up through the open gates of the Hells Saints property. It stopped in the parking area right in front of the three large flagpoles. The tallest pole sported the American flag, the other one flew the club flag, and the third had four smaller flags displayed. Each one represented a branch of the military. The vehicle had an insignia on its door. I didn’t recognize the vehicle, but I felt the boys quiet and tense beside me.

About half an hour earlier the two men in the SUV had stopped right outside of the town line. They had pulled into a convenience store, parked, and grabbed the two large garment bags that were draped carefully over the back seat. They walked into the small establishment dressed as civilians, but walked out spit-and-polished. Two hundred and thirty-seven years of tradition now covered their lean, strong bodies. Their black shoes shone up at them and reflected the burnished brass buttons of their coats. The blood-red stripe hung straight against the deep blue of their pressed pants. Around their necks sat a tight, rigid red-trimmed collar. Their white gloves were folded perfectly, left over right, and tucked next to a shiny brass buckle.

The major shut off the engine and looked at the gunnery sergeant. He nodded and the two men climbed out of the SUV. Their shiny black shoes kicked up the dust and gravel from the driveway as they walked purposely toward the group of men and women that were congregated at a large picnic table.

As the deep hazy sunset lined the backdrop of the woodland, Major Elmswood focused on the forearm of the biggest man at the table. He kept his eyes glued to the tattoo that read in simple script,
Always Faithful. Always Loyal. Semper Fidelis
.

The men at the table all stood at the same time. With wary eyes, clenched jaws, and squared shoulders, they surveyed the two officers walking toward them. Sergeant Nickerson noted that three of them sported military tattoos. Then he glanced again at the group of flags flying high over the compound.

They know,
the sergeant thought to himself.

A pretty girl with long dark hair and bright blue eyes leaned across the table and spoke first.

“Oh, look, Prosper. The men are here for the check. Wow, that was fast. And they are all dressed up too. That will make a nice picture.” Then she smiled brightly at the two officers.

When she went to move from her seat, the large man she had addressed as Prosper put his hand on her arm.

He spoke to her with surprising gentleness. “Claire. These men are not here to pick up the check, honey.”

And then he paused and added, “Where is Glory?”

CHAPTER 54

T
he refrigerator was full to the point of bursting. Glory stood in front of it with her hands on her hips, and tried to find room to put the various leftover casseroles, cold salads, and desserts.
What a mess,
she thought to herself, as she gave up looking for a place to put the large containers. She would have to remove most of the contents of the refrigerator and start over.

“Glory.”

She turned at the sound of her name to see Prosper’s eyes settle gently upon her. His big body partially blocked the two men behind him.

But only partially.

As the two uniformed officers stepped out from behind Prosper, Glory started in surprise. Then her eyes took in the crisp dress blues, the shining brass buttons, and the sheathed sabers at their hips. Both men had their hats in their hands.

Marine officers.

Glory’s hand flew to her stomach, then it fluttered up to her heart where it stopped and lay shaking. She looked past the men to find that Jules had entered the kitchen. His gaze spoke to her with such tender sorrow that it made her knees weak. Jules shoved his way through to her. She reached out and twisted the fabric of his T-shirt into a tight knot in her fist.

“No.” She looked at the officers. “
No
.”

“Ma’am . . .”

“No,” she whispered.

“Ma’am . . . are you Glory Thomas, the sister of Captain Hallelujah Thomas?”

“No.” Glory’s voice bordered on hysteria.

“Please, ma’am,” The officer spoke gently.

Jules murmured something soft and low, his hand placed firmly around her waist.

Glory nodded.

“I am sorry to be here today, ma’am. We have received word from his unit commander that Captain Hallejulah Thomas has been very seriously injured in . . .”

“He’s wounded?” Prosper broke in. “Why the fuck didn’t you call? Isn’t the notification process for you to call unless he’s . . . ?”

“Stop! Stop don’t say it! Please don’t say it, Prosper,” Glory choked out.

Prosper didn’t say it and Glory took a step away from Jules and stood on her own.

The two Marines kept their eyes on Glory.

“My phone.” She looked helplessly at them. “I dropped it off the dock yesterday. It’s sitting at the bottom of the lake somewhere.”

“I understand, ma’am,” the major continued, “your brother was very seriously injured in Kandahar, Afghanistan, earlier this morning when his convoy hit a roadside bomb. Gunnery Sergeant Harris is your casualty assistance officer and he will be here to help you with anything you need.”

“How bad is he?” Glory whispered.

“We don’t have all the details in yet, ma’am. We do know that Captain Thomas has been airlifted to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, ma’am,” the sergeant answered.

The silence was deafening as the officers gave her time to process. Prosper and Jules stood right where they were.

“Where is that? I don’t know where that is,” she said weakly.

“It is next to the US air base in Ramstein, Germany, ma’am.”

“I need to go to him,” Glory moaned. Her eyes were glued to the sergeant.

“Yes, ma’am. I can arrange that for you.”

“When? How soon can I go?” Glory fought through the daze.

“I can get those orders in place as soon as you are ready, ma’am,” the sergeant assured her.

“I’m ready now,” Glory whispered. “I’m ready now. I just need to go home first. I need to do a few things . . . I need . . . I need . . . Oh, God. God. I’m not sure what I need . . .”

“Glory.” Jules took a step toward her. His eyes filled with concern and longing.

Glory put her shaking hand up in a barely controlled stop motion. “Stop. Stop, Jules. Don’t say a word. Don’t come near me again. Don’t touch me.”

She stepped back and leaned against the counter to steady herself. Her voice was filled with steely determination and heartbreaking vulnerability.

Jules moved toward her anyway.

Glory shook her head and panic filled her eyes.

“If you ever loved me, if there is one shred left of what you felt for me, then please,
please
stay where you are. If you touch me, Jules, if anyone touches me, I am going to fall apart. And I can’t do that. I can’t do that.
Please stay where you are.
”

She looked at the officers then. Her face filled with fear, misery, and raw nerve.

“Ma’am.” The sergeant stepped forward.

“I’m ready.” Glory took a deep breath and straightened her spine.

“Tell them I’ll call them when I can,” she whispered to Prosper.

He nodded. His eyes filled with deep sympathy and grave concern.

Then Glory turned and silently walked out the door behind the two marines. She didn’t look back, she didn’t whisper a name or say good-bye. She just put one foot in front of the other, got into the SUV, and watched as the door closed on her shattered world.

CHAPTER 55

G
lory let us know the minute that she had landed in Germany. But it was a while before we heard from her again, and then it was just intermittently. We knew that Hal had not been expected to survive even long enough for Glory to arrive at his bedside, but thank God he had. Glory seemed loath to discuss his injuries or prognosis in any great detail when she called, and sensing she needed a welcome relief from the pain and fear of worry, I tried to entertain her as much as I could with club gossip and wedding plans. I had no idea when or even if she would ever be back, and even though I missed her horribly, I knew that she was where she needed to be.

Despite or maybe because of the recent past events, Reno and I decided to push ahead with our wedding. I still had my heart set on a big white extravaganza, but what had happened first to Reno and now to Hal had changed my perspective on things. I didn’t want to wait, and since Reno had felt things were taking way too long anyway, he was happy to tie that knot as soon as possible.

And once I seriously had begun to look at venues, I realized that it didn’t make sense to delay any longer in order to book just the right place to hold the reception.

Because the right venue would not have us.

Neither would the in-between venue.

Nor would the
I am so not having my wedding here
venue.

It turned out that no business establishment in a hundred-mile radius was up to having the local chapter and extended membership of the Hells Saints brothers tearing up their function halls. Initially, every call I made gave me a choice of available dates. It was only after Reno and I had thundered to the proposed venue, seated on the Harley and dressed in Hells Saints leather, that each event planner suddenly developed a conflict with the booking.

I got it. I did. And part of me didn’t blame them. The boys weren’t actually quiet partiers. But I had not given up entirely. Not until the day that I called the last possible acceptable place, and a kindly woman with a smoker’s voice took pity on me.