Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4) (18 page)

*****

As Jules made his way across the yard towards his room, he thought about Glory and what she had told him about her parents.

Now that’s some irony for you.

His dad and hers had a lot in common.

Both were successful, smart fuckers who hadn’t put family or being faithful to their women high on their list.

Why settle for one when you can have them all?
Jules had heard his father bragging to his golf buddies more than once when he had been forced to caddy for them. And in the small affluent town where Jules grew up, it was no secret that Dr. Bonny had made it his life mission to have them all.

Jules’s father had not been a businessman, but rather a well-known cardiac surgeon. But just like Derek Thomas, Harold Bonny had a strong gambling addiction. However, Jules’s father didn’t like to gamble with cards. Oh fuck no. He liked to gamble with people’s lives. Dr. Bonny was an arrogant man with a God complex.

Although Jules had harbored a strong interest in medicine from a very young age, the fear of living in his father’s shadow, or even worse, becoming a man like him stopped Jules from pursuing a medical career. After battling his own demons—demons that resulted from bad decisions, dangerous pursuits and the normal adolescence angst taken to the extreme—Jules triumphed. And he did it by pulling himself out of the gutter and joining the Marines. In his role as a field medic, he volunteered for the toughest assignments, the bloodiest battles, and he was known for his cool head and his bravery.

Now as Jules approached the door to his room, he thought about his large collection of condoms and the even larger collection of females that he had had in his bed over the years. He thought about the "woman’s place is in the home" bullshit that had been drummed into his head by his philandering and self-serving father. He thought about his mother with that damn perpetual plastic smile on her face waiting for the good doctor to come home.

And he realized that despite all his efforts to the contrary, a part of him had held fast to those archaic, misogynist ideals. The ideas taught to him by his bastard old man.

And Jules knew that if he wanted to keep the only woman he had ever loved and probably ever would love by his side, he better cut that shit out fast.

But first he had to get Glory to a safe place until all this cartel bullshit was over.

Jules knew he should wake her up.

He knew that he should just lean over, shake Glory out of sleep and get her ass over to Gianni’s as fast as possible.

He knew that.

Jules knew that he should resist the urge to crawl into bed with her. He knew that he shouldn’t be placing small kisses on her full lips, or coaxing panties down her smooth hips.

But she looked so damn beautiful lying there.

Glory in his bed.

So damn sexy with those long legs parted, as if in invitation. The urge to satisfy his need for her, to feel her, to touch her, raged through his system and propelled him forward. As if of its own volition, Jules found his big body wedged between her legs while his lips began to place small kisses along the silky smooth skin of her inner thighs.

“Jules?” Glory called to him in drowsiness as the scruff of his short beard tickled her intimately.

“Relax, babe.” His eyes met hers in a blaze of need. Then he lowered his head again before she could protest. Jules’s mouth began to explore Glory with exquisite skill. When he felt her body tense and quiver beneath him, he plunged his tongue deep inside her. Over and over he pleased her with his mouth until he felt her hips rise up in welcome and heard her breath release in low moans of pleasure. He slipped a finger inside her body thrusting deeper and deeper until he found that incredibly sensitive spot. Rhythmically he teased her with his finger while his mouth tugged on the silky, tender intimate nub until she cried out for release.

Several moments later Glory lay in Jules’s arms, her breath uneven and her body still tingling in all the best places. Once the dizzying ecstasy subsided, she nuzzled herself tight against him. Then with a shy touch her hands began to roam over him in gentle exploration. He lay very still as her fingertips grazed over his muscled chest and taut belly. She captured his nipple in her mouth and bit on it gently. When Glory heard Jules groan, her lips followed the trail of her hands, over his chest, past his belly and lower. She moved from his side, rolled on top of him, and slid herself down between his powerful thighs.

With a gentle hand and shy exploration she began to tease and pull tenderly on the round firm sac. When his breath hitched in a low primal moan, she rose to her knees, pushed her bottom up in the air, bent her head down and captured him with her warm wet mouth.

Glory let out a small cry of frustration when Jules pressed his hands firm around her head in a stop motion. When Glory stopped and looked up at him in surprise, he flipped her over on her back and pushed a pillow beneath her hips. She parted her legs in welcome.

He didn’t need any further invitation, he positioned himself along her glistening folds and began to slowly enter her. With a knowing touch Jules reached between her legs and found the center of her pleasure. With every inch of cock he fed her, he worked her clit faster and faster until she cried out in climax. Her body had barely stopped quivering in orgasm when Jules withdrew from her, flipped her over on her belly, and pulled her up by her hips. Pressing her head down, he entered her again. There was no gentleness in him now, only the driving need to dominate, and possess. Jules anchored her by wrapping a strong arm around her waist while he plunged into her over and over again until he pulsed hot and long inside of her.

A few moments later they lay wonderfully sated and depleted and wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Wow. That was—” Glory sighed in appreciation.

“Fucking amazing. I know. ” Jules grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. Then he glanced at the clock beside the bed. “And you can thank me later. But right now you’ve got to get your fine ass out of bed. I should have gotten you out of here an hour ago.”

Jules untangled Glory from under his arm, stood beside the bed and hauled her up next to him.

“Am I going back to the lake house?” Glory began to rummage through the sheets for her clothes.

“No.” He found the small scrap of lace and tossed it to her. “You’re going to the wop’s house.”

“Gianni’s house? Why?” Glory pulled on her panties.

“Potentially threatening situation…” His voice trailed off as though the conclusion was obvious. “Your girls will be there too. Hal will drive you over and stay with. You take your lead from him, and try not to give him any shit.”

“But we should be safe at Gianni’s, shouldn’t we? Why does Hal have to be there?”

Jules stood with his back against the wall, enjoying the sight of Glory’s breasts bouncing deliciously as she tugged on her jeans. Damn if he wasn’t getting hard for her again. When Glory pulled the silky triangles over her breasts and reached around to fasten her bra, Jules forced his eyes back up to her face. When she shot him an expectant look, he fought hard to remember the question at hand.

Something about Hal being at Gianni’s?

“Up to this point Hal’s involvement with the club has been acceptable.” Jules forced himself to focus and resist the urge to kiss Glory’s neck where she gathered her hair up in a high ponytail.

“I don’t understand.” Glory’s nipples swelled against the constraints of the thin silk as she reached up to tie an elastic band around her blond locks.

“The bylaws.” He tore his eyes away from those perfect peaks with effort. “Driving the van for the brothers on a long-ass run or hanging at the clubhouse is one thing, but today Hal sat in on a meet that, as a non-member, he had no business being at. He gave us some valuable information, but that shit has to cease. Diego brought up the point that a house full of women could be a huge pain in the ass, so Hal volunteered to run interference.” Jules let this out in one long impatient sentence, because as much as he enjoyed watching Glory get dressed, he had shit going on. The Colombian threat was a strong one and needed to be dealt with.  So with that in mind he tossed Glory her T-shirt.

“Now stop asking so many questions, and hurry up, babe. I got me some killing to do.”

Jules left Glory in his room to finish getting dressed. As he made his way across the compound, he concentrated on the very serious matter at hand and put on the mantle that he was born to wear.

Defender.

In his heart he would always be a soldier. A Marine defending, protecting and serving. His position as Sergeant At Arms of the Saints was a natural extension of that. Jules had given his oath to protect the club members, the club property, and the club territories from outside threats. It was a vow he had taken with pride and would give his life to defend. To that end, Jules walked across the large yard with his cell, stabbing in phone numbers, barking out orders and calling in markers.

He was about halfway across the yard when the earth trembled beneath his feet. It felt as if a large angry boot came crashing down from the sky without warning. Shattered glass, thick black smoke and blazing fire spread along all corners of the yard. The high-pitched whistle of the alarm system rang out ferociously and mixed with the squeal of the security gate being torn from its hinges.

The brothers started pouring out from every building in the compound with rifles and pistols in hand. Jules rose on unsteady feet from where he had been brought down by the force of the blast, and when he did, he saw the vehicle careening up the driveway. A dozen men leaned out from the bed of a tricked out truck and riddled the compound with bullets. The roar of automatic weapons shot through the air all around him.

“Glory!” Jules shouted when he saw her standing confused and terrified in the doorway. “Gun and keys—by the bed. Truck—by the back entrance. Take the utility road and drive straight to the highway—shoot through anything that gets in your way! GO!”

When another round of bullets punched through the air, Glory froze in terror. As if in slow motion, she turned around slowly surveying the damage until her eyes landed back on Jules. Her expression turned to one of dazed horror when she took in the shattered glass and debris that covered the ground at his feet. When she made a small confused move towards him, Jules felt a cold fear grip his heart.

“Go to the truck now!" he thundered at her. “
Now
!"

Another explosion shattered through the air before Glory’s trance-like state was broken and she was galvanized into action. With one last tearful look at Jules, she nodded her understanding, turned from him and ran back into the building.

Thank God!

“Jules!” Hal shouted and he turned around just in time to catch the assault rifle and the pistol. With a nod of thanks he slung the rifle on his back and unlatched the safety on the handgun.

“Glory?” Hal roared out the question above the sound of gunfire.

“She’s okay!” Jules shouted back. Then he lifted his chin in the direction of the truck and with two fingers, Jules made a motion towards the main clubhouse. Then he pointed to the roof.

Hal followed Jules as they zigzagged their way to the back of the building. With one hard tug, Jules pulled down the metal fire escape ladder that connected to the rooftop. Hand over hand he scaled the ladder to the top of the clubhouse. Hal followed close on his heels.

From their vantage point, the men had a clear view of the gun fight that was happening below. Bautista’s crew had hit all right, but thanks to Glory and Claire’s foolhardy decision making, the Saints were ready for them.

Jules had barely time to frame that thought when another truck stormed through the flattened security gate. As Hal crawled up beside him, Jules nodded to the driveway and shouted to be heard above the gunfire. “Incoming!”

Jules took another quick scan of the perimeter before he yelled out the order.

“You get the truck. I’ll take the ground.”

Hal’s response was immediate and deadly. He flattened himself in a sniper position. One by one and with deadly precision, Hal picked the Colombians off as easily as if he were shooting fish in a barrel. While Hal was busy laying waste to the guys pouring out from the truck, Jules took careful aim to help any man that may be pinned by gunfire exchange on the ground.

Fuck.

Jules realized that he and Hal had been spotted when he felt the impact of the bullet hit against the metal box that he had ducked behind to reload.

Motherfucking bastards.

Jules ducked as another bullet whizzed past his head. He knew that he had to act fast if he was going to kill the shooter before the shooter killed him. Just then Hal sprang up from a hidden corner of the roof and, with a rebel yell, made his way towards Jules as he rained a hailstorm of bullets on the ground below.

Jules swallowed back his shout of thanks when he saw the dazed look on Hal’s face. The fact that Hal continued to unload his weapon onto the inert figure prompted Jules to quick action.

“The fucker’s dead, brother.”

Jules laid a hard hand down on Hal’s shoulder.

When Hal swung around Jules realized his mistake. Because he found himself looking down the long barrel of an assault weapon. Jules’s life flashed before his eyes when he heard the click of a firing pin slam down on the bullet chamber of Hal’s gun.

Steeling himself for the blast of the close range shot, Jules prepared to meet his maker. When it didn’t happen, he sent up a prayer of gratitude for spent ammo. Jules realized that Hal was in the throes of a full on PTSD episode.

Don’t lose your shit on me now, brother
.

Jules held Hal’s eyes carefully with his own and when he spoke he kept his tone soft, steady and calm. “Whatever you’re seeing, Hal, it ain’t there. It ain’t happening. It ain’t real. You’re safe. You’re at the Saints compound.”

When Jules saw a small flicker of recognition wash over Hal, he let out a long slow breath.

“I’m gonna reach into my cut now because I have some Johnny in my pocket. I’m gonna pull it out and you’re gonna take a hit. Shit, we’re both gonna take a hit.” Jules continued to hold Hal’s wary gaze and with a slow and steady hand he held out the flask.

It seemed like forever before Hal lost that shattered expression and became aware of his surroundings. It was only then that he lowered his weapon. With a look of apology and an unsteady hand, Hal took the offered flask and threw back a long gulp. Then another. And another. After he handed the flask back to Jules, Hal ran a hard punishing hand over that damaged side of his face. “Sorry man. This shooting. Brought back some shit, that’s all.”

Jules gave Hal a long assessing look and then said simply, “No worries man. I get it.”

As Jules scanned the perimeter, he noted with relief that the quick but deadly skirmish seemed to be over.

His thoughts immediately turned to Glory.

Although Jules had seen the headlights of the truck speed safely down the utility road, he wouldn’t feel totally at ease until he talked to her. To his consternation, when he dialed Glory’s cell it went right to voice mail. And although he didn’t like it, Jules knew that she had cleared the compound and for now that would have to be enough. He’d try her again in a few minutes, but he had to turn his immediate attention to the matter at hand.

The yard was the picture of controlled chaos by the time Jules and Hal reached it. Riker, Diego and Reno were already in the center area and the rest of the brothers were coming in from all corners of the compound. Diego barked out orders while Reno and a crew began to collect up the weapons that littered the ground. Prospects dragged dead Colombians across the blood soaked field, while several of the brothers went down to barricade the breached gate. Jules noted with satisfaction that the club was doing what it did best, pulling together and taking care of its own. He was just about to punch in Glory’s number again, when a shadow stretched long in the dust of the bloody field.

And at the end of that shadow stood a man holding a gun to Prosper’s temple.

Santino.

Jules took off at a run towards this latest threat, and when he did, Santino pulled the gun away from Prosper’s head took aim and fired. Jules was momentarily forced backward as the pain of the bullet burned through the muscle in his thigh with fiery intensity.

“You move another fucking step and I’m gonna put a bullet through his damn skull!” Santino bellowed out in warning.

“Somebody better kill this asshole!” Prosper’s shouted command hit every corner of the compound even as the barrel of the gun bit hard into the side of his skull.

The Saints did not hesitate to answer the call to action and drew their weapons all at once. The distinct click of automatic firearms being cocked rang through the tense silence of the yard.

“Drop your weapons or I kill your boss!” Santino shrieked out.

“Shoot him!” Prosper screamed in a voice filled with fury.

“Shut the fuck up!” Santino raged. “You stupid motherfucker! You tell them to stand down! They don’t drop those guns, you die!”

Prosper further infuriated Santino by pressing his head against the barrel of the gun as he spat out. “Go ahead and shoot me. You think I give a fuck? I already lived longer than I expected to. But you? You’re a dead man walking. Look around, asshole. The Colombians are all dead. And that gun you’re holding up to my head? It don’t smell like smoke and that tells me it ain’t been fired. So when the rest of your crew was fighting for their miserable suckass lives, you musta been hiding behind a motherfucking tree, you cowardly bastard. Only thing left for you to decide is how you’re gonna die. You gotta decide if you want to go down here like the man you ain’t, or die screaming like the bitch you are when Bautista finds out that you watched his brothers die without firing a single shot.”

Santino sneered. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. But that’s how you wanna play it? I’ll play.”

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a small explosive device. “How’s about we all go down together?”

“Fucker has a grenade.” A slow rumble rose from the men even as the Saints kept their weapons trained on the mobster.

An uncertain silence fell over the yard. Then Jules broke the uneasy quiet and called out, “Hey, Santino, you even know what it is that you’re holding? You might want to rethink that plan of yours.”

Through excruciating pain, Jules managed to stay on his feet and keep his voice calm. His tone was conversational and eerily friendly. If it weren’t for the weapon that he kept trained between Santino’s eyes, or the blood that was pulsing out of Jules’s thigh, he could have been talking about football, or maybe the weather.

“Yeah, and why the fuck would I do that?” Santino shouted at Jules with guarded suspicion. “Cause right now, it seems to me like I’ve got all the cards.”

Next to Santino, Prosper tensed visibly against the 9mm held at his temple, but when Jules gave him a slight shake of his head, he stilled.

“Now that’s where you’re wrong, friend. That M67 you’re holding has about a five-second fuse delay upon release,” Jules called out amiably. Then he smiled with cold satisfaction when he saw the mobster’s eyes shift with uncertainty. “So this is what’s gonna happen next. I’m gonna walk another couple of feet towards you. Then I’m gonna take real careful aim and shoot a round at seventeen hundred feet per second through your skull. That impact is going to shatter part of your brain, the part that controls motor function. Everything from your neck down is going to be dead before what’s left of your grey matter has time to compute it. That hold you have on that grenade trigger? Your fingers won’t even start to twitch for about ten seconds after you’re dead. Plenty of time for the boys to get rid of that pineapple you’re holding.”

He waited until he saw the sudden look of understanding blaze out from Santino’s eyes.

Then Jules shot him.