Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4) (8 page)

Jules looked at Glory in appreciation and relief. She looked great— but not just in a smokin’ hot way—she looked good in a healthy way that reassured him.

The last few weeks at the lake had been good for her. When Jules had first started working out at the house Glory had been pale and thin. Gradually over the past few weeks, he had been happy to see that burden of worry lift a little. He knew that most of that was the result of watching her brother settle in and begin to work on his recovery. But he hoped that him being around lightening things up and making her laugh a little had also helped with that. 

When Jules stole another glance at Glory, his eyes landed on her legs.

Her long, toned, gorgeous legs.

Legs that went on forever and ever.

Smooth and strong as they wrapped themselves around his back pulling him deeper and deeper—signaling her want as he pushed himself inside of her—

“So when did you get this truck?” Glory’s sexy as hell voice called out from beside him and brought him crashing back to reality.

When her words interrupted his thoughts, Jules shifted uncomfortably. He took his arm off the back of the seat and placed it casually over his budding erection.

Stubborn. Too damn independent. Fiery tempered, obstinate damn woman.

Yeah. That calmed things down. Much better.

“A while ago.” He focused on the road ahead. “I got it a while ago.”

“Wow. It’s beautiful.” Glory ran her hand along the leather interior. “I never pictured you wanting something like this, it’s really roomy. But why did you get such a big truck?”

Jules looked over at Glory to see if she was fucking with him. When he saw her blue eyes knit in question and stare back at him with an innocent and frank curiosity, he made a decision.

Jules jerked the steering wheel hard to the right, pulled the truck over and killed the engine.

Then he moved his seat back and shifted his big body so he was facing Glory straight on.

At the abruptness of his actions, Glory looked back at him in stunned, expectant silence.

“After you left, I took up with Bambi,” Jules blurted out.

“You took up with Bambi
before
I left,” Glory corrected him with emphasis.

Feisty woman—

“You gonna let me finish?” He scowled.

“Just trying to keep it real, Jules.” Glory lifted her nose slightly in the air. “Go on. Continue.”

“Bambi and me—” Jules looked suddenly unsure of himself as he scrubbed a hand over his face and looked hard at Glory.

Her face revealed nothing.

It hurts less if you just rip off the Band-Aid.

“So I was fucking Bambi,” Jules continued in no uncertain terms. “And after I had stopped fucking her, she told me that I had knocked her up. At first I was so damn shocked I didn’t know what the hell to do. But then when I thought about it, if the kid was mine I wanted to do right by it. Beside the bike, the only vehicle I had was that old van. No air bags—seatbelts only worked some of the time. So I bought the Ram you’re sitting in now. A month passed, then two more. Baby wasn’t showing on the bitch like I figured it should be. I asked her about it, and she kept giving me bullshit answers. So I scheduled her in with Doc Gideon and showed up at the appointment. And doc confirmed it for me. The due date was too far off for the kid to be mine. I wanted to kill that lying snatch for trying to pull that one over on me. But then I figured I got what I deserved for taking up with her in the first place. So now she’s gone and I’m stuck with this big-ass, ridiculous, gas guzzling, monstrosity as a reminder of what a fucking fool I was.” Jules reached past Glory to the glove box. He pulled out a flask, took a long pull on it, eyed her over the silver container and waited.

Her glacier blue eyes clashed with his stormy darker ones, as she looked at him long and hard.

“If the baby was yours, were you gonna marry Bambi?” She asked simply.

Jules regarded Glory with care.

“Nope. You know I’m not that guy. And besides—I never felt that for her.”

Another long quiet moment fell between them while Jules drummed anxious fingers against his thigh waiting for her reaction. It seemed like forever to him before she spoke.

“Anything else you want to tell me?” Glory asked.

“No. Think that about covers it.” He hoped his tone signaled the end of the conversation. But then as he looked at Glory sitting so poised and still beside him, he added with reluctance, “Anything else you wanna know?”

Glory gave him another searching look before she focused back on the road ahead and answered, “No, I’m good.”

Jules put the car into drive and pulled out into the traffic. Although he tried for casual calm, the tension in his jaw only began to relax after the woman seated beside him let out a long slow breath.

Jules would have given his left nut to know what she was thinking in that moment. But when he glanced over at Glory, her face remained closed off and expressionless.

He hadn’t intended to make that roadside admission. Damn embarrassing was what it was—the way he let himself get played by Bambi Henderson. But when Glory had made that comment about the truck, Jules thought that for sure that she might be fucking with him. The word had been all over the club about Bambi’s deception and he didn’t think it was possible that the Winston sisters hadn’t filled her in on what a damn fool he had been. But to be fair, Claire and Raine weren’t really the kind of women who got off on recounting someone else’s mistakes. Especially if they knew it would hurt Glory.

So yeah, it shouldn’t have surprised him to find Glory clueless about the whole Bambi thing. But it did.

Because, when it came right down to it, Jules really had no clue about women.

What they thought.

How they felt.

What they wanted.

No fucking clue.

Glory snuck little looks at Jules as they continued down the road to the party. She had almost choked on her own spit when he looked her in the eye and fessed up about the whole Bambi situation.

Of course she knew.

Her girls had her back on all things Jules Bonny.

And truth be known, Glory had breathed a deep sigh of relief when Claire had called and notified her that Jules’s status had gone from baby-daddy to baby- daddy no more. Because really, the thought of Jules sharing a child with that woman—or any other woman for that matter—had filled her with a sadness so deep that she had thought that her heart might break.

Glory could have kicked herself for making that comment about the truck. She had no desire to hurt or embarrass him. God knows she had made enough of her own dumb mistakes. She had really just been trying to make conversation. When she had made that remark, she honestly had no idea the two things were in any way connected. And the shock that showed on Glory’s face at his confession was one hundred percent for real.

Just not for the reason that Jules thought it was.

And now as she sat next to him, with his strong arm once again casually draped over the back of her seat, a small part of Glory hoped that this surprising show of honest vulnerability might mean a new start for the two of them somewhere down the line.

Stranger things had certainly happened.

And with that hopeful thought, Glory leaned her head back against the seat just under the place where Jules’s strong arm met her shoulder. Then Glory smiled inwardly, took a deep breath and willed herself to relax and enjoy the rest of the ride.

*****

As Jules pulled into the cobbled driveway, Glory’s eyes grew wide in appreciative wonder. When the girls had told her that Dolly had gone into partnership with Gianni to open a bakery she had expected something much less grand than the regal building that stood before her. She had thought that the bakery would be something more along the lines of a pretty, quaint, corner store. In her mind’s eye, Glory had imagined a small shop with a few well-placed tables and chairs, a couple of glass cases filled with various baked goods, and perhaps an espresso machine with a few coffee canisters sitting on a side bar.

What she got was a majestic brick building with a stone fountain beautifully displayed in the circular driveway. If it weren’t for the dozen or so Harleys, and a custom delivery van with a sign that read
D&G Bakery
parked in the lot, Glory would have thought that they were at the wrong place.

“This is the bakery?” Glory felt a small pang of envy when she compared this beautiful building to the lake house kitchen where she had started up her own little catering business. But in the next breath she thought about how Dolly had been so helpful and encouraging to her and was immediately ashamed of her momentary envy.
 

“Pretty fucking nice, huh?” Jules stood beside her and waved a hand at the imposing structure. “This is Casa Di Pranzo. Gianni’s place. The whole top floor is used as a banquet area and there’s a bunch of fancy shops on the main floor. A cigar bar, a chocolatier, an imported wine shop and now Dolly’s bakery is in there. Gianni spared no expense on the place and I got it on good authority that he let Dolly call all the shots” Jules paused and rocked back on his heels. “You know I never have been and never will be a fan of the Italians, but Reno says his mom is really fucking happy. And any man who makes Dolly McCabe happy earns a few points with me and with the rest of the boys. Come on let’s go in and check it out.”

Glory took in the beautiful building with a mixture of apprehension and interest, then she smoothed the skirt of her dress and let Jules lead the way.

The twin glass and copper trimmed doors swung open wide automatically in greeting and led to a marble entryway. The first floor boasted a thickly carpeted, walnut-paneled emporium. The bake shop was the last store on the left and was situated across from the sweeping staircase that led to the elegant banquet hall on the second floor.

In contrast to the heavy and richly wooded lobby, Glory was pleased to find that the bakery itself was light and airy. The walls were painted a creamy butter yellow and highlighted by soft recessed lighting. Dozens and dozens of decadent pastries sat on ornate doilies in cases of gleaming antique glass. A complicated looking, and quite massive, Italian import presided over the high espresso bar. Frothy cakes, piled high with frosting, sat proudly in a revolving, tall, mirrored case. The seating area was filled with tables made of white wrought-iron topped with thick glass and the chairs were covered with plump, colorful, paisley cushions

D&G Bakery mixed old world elegance and new age whimsy, just like the partners themselves.

Dolly McCabe stood near the front entry, greeting her guests, wearing stylish jeans, supple tan suede boots, and a brightly embroidered silk blouse. Auburn curls sat in a riotous display on top of her head while long swirls of gold hung from her ears. When she spoke, her hands fluttered like bejeweled butterflies.

Next to Dolly, as if in contrast, was Gianni Abruzzi, in a custom cut Armani suit, a starched white shirt and Fratelli Borgioli shoes. A heavy gold bracelet circled his wrist, while a diamond ring winked from his pinky finger. His dark hair was worn short and peppered with grey.

More than once Glory had thought that if you looked up mob boss in the dictionary, there would probably be a picture of this guy. And although she had never seen Gianni rocking anything but calm, the power and controlled violence that emanated from the mobster had always made her a bit uneasy. Truthfully, if it had not been for Jules being so stubbornly and unreasonably obsessed with her not working for Gianni for reasons of his own prideful macho bullshit, she probably would have found a way to curtail their business relationship on her own.

Now, as Glory watched the two new business partners greet their guests side by side, she smiled to herself. Because apparently, Dolly McCabe had no such reservations about Gianni Abruzzi. But then again when a man comes to the rescue to save your potentially fatally wounded son, you tend to think the best of him. And Gianni had done that for Dolly. He had stormed past the gates of the locked down HSMC to help his lady love in her most desperate time of need.

The affection in Dolly’s eyes when she looked at Gianni was hard to miss. And when Dolly burst out into small gasps of musical laughter, Gianni smiled at her with amused indulgence and adoration.

The opening was every bit the success that Glory thought that it would be. As was to be expected—the place was packed with friends and family from both the Hells Saints MC and the Bonzini crime family. And although Glory had been a witness to the Saints and Gianni’s boys mixing it up together before, it always looked like a dangerous and strange pairing to her. But when she thought about it, it maybe wasn’t so odd after all. The Italians might be clean shaven and sporting expensive suits instead of scruffy chins and black leather vests, but underneath all that fine wool and worn leather, the men weren’t so different after all.

“You ready?” Jules bowed his head and whispered against Glory’s ear.

“Uh-huh.” Glory nodded. When she turned and smiled at him, his lips brushed against her cheek and she felt a tingle of warmth spread through her like a slow blazing fire. Jules kept up the warm reassuring touch at the small of Glory’s back as he led her through the crowd to where Raine and Claire were standing close together in conversation. After he greeted the women with a smile, he surprised Glory by giving her a quick kiss on her mouth before he went off to join his brothers.

The two women raised a delighted brow at the gesture, but when they saw Glory’s furious blush, they said nothing.

“I hate being late to these things,” Raine told them. “But Patience is going through the whole separation anxiety thing and Willow dropped a glass of grape juice on me just before I left. Does this shirt look too wrinkled? I didn’t have time to iron it.”

“You look beautiful as always.” Glory smiled at her. “I love that color blue on you. It matches your eyes.”

“Yeah it does. You look great,” Claire agreed, then took a closer look. “Hey, wait a minute. Isn’t that mine?”

Raine made her pretty blue eyes wide. “Is it?”

“Yup. It is,” Claire insisted. “It definitely is. I left it at your house by mistake last weekend after our shopping trip!”

“Okay. All right. It is.” Raine fessed up. “But honestly, I had nothing else to wear. Everything decent I have is stained with baby vomit or is in the wash. I bought something new for today, but I never expected a grape juice incident. I’m sorry, Claire.” Raine’s apology was sincere.

“It’s okay. Looks better on you than it does on me, anyway.” Claire wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, baby vomit is definitely not a preferred look.”

“Tell me about it.” Raine grimaced. Then she scanned the room before she turned to Claire. “Is Hal here?”

“No.” Glory shook her head in regret. “His appointment at the center got changed at the last minute.”

“So I heard Claire came to the party with Jules.” The girls all turned as a familiar voice rang out from behind them. Pinky gave each of the girls a close tight hug. Claire felt her cheeks warm at the proclamation.

“Uh-huh, she did,” Claire chimed in while Raine shot out a grin.

“You heard? Or you snooped?” Glory teased the older woman, who was known far and wide for her well-meaning but nosy ways.

“Oh. It’s not the same thing?” Pinky’s laugh was infectious. “By the way, this time I didn’t have to snoop. Prosper was the one who told me that you and Jules came together.”

“Hmmm— came to the party
together
. That does sounds promising, doesn’t it?” Claire nudged her sister, who nodded in pleased agreement.

“Settle down, ladies.” Glory couldn’t help but giggle at the eager smiles on the faces of the three women. “I didn’t come to the party
with
Jules, Jules gave me a
ride
to the party. There’s a world of difference there.”

“Sure there is, honey, sure there is. And the fact that, even though he’s halfway across this crowded room, and still can’t manage to keep his eyes off you? That probably means nothing either.” Pinky’s eyes sparkled as she nodded to where Jules was standing with Diego and Reno.

When Jules caught Pinky’s look and volleyed an all too sexy smile to Glory, she blushed and concentrated on grabbing a handful of cookies from a passing tray.

“Oh, boy.” Raine’s smile turned to a frown as she leaned in and perused the selection of decorative wafers that Glory had put on her plate.

“What?” Glory knitted her brow as she watched the two sisters exchange a meaningful glance.

“I just wish that Dolly had left out the owls when she was cutting those little animal cookies.” Raine shook her head in consternation while Claire nodded in agreement.

“Why?” Glory asked.

“Because they are bad luck,” Raine answered soberly.

“Bad luck? How?” Pinky looked at the small, intricately frosted shapes.

“I remember my mother telling me that her people, the Lakota people, believed that some breeds of owls are not even birds at all. They believe that they are witches who shape shift in order to swoop down, spy on their victims, find out their weaknesses, and cast them in their spells.” Raine voice was low and ominous, as if saying the words would unleash a siege of demons.

“So even one little ol’ owl shaped cookie could be a bad omen?” Pinky asked in incredulity.

“Oh yes.” Raine nodded with vehemence and Claire agreed.

When the women all turned and looked at her, Glory bit her lip in consternation.

Because her plate was full of them.

*****

Maybe it was the whole cookie conversation.

Or maybe she was feeling the controlled violence that filled this room of men.

Or maybe she was just prone to paranoia.

But whatever it was, Glory could not shake the feeling of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Feeling the need for fresh air, she pushed her way through the press of bodies and headed for the set of double doors that would lead to the central courtyard. As Glory excused herself through the sea of guests she glanced up to see someone bearing down on the crowd and coming fast in her direction. Oddly, the man seemed to be focused solely on his path straight to her. As he got closer, a sudden recognition sparked in the pit of her stomach.

“Glory, stop!” The sound of her name on his lips sickened her and she fought the bile that rose up like acid into her throat. She kept her head down and pushed as quickly as she dared through the crowd, weaving and dodging and searching for the nearest exit.

With Santino Abiatti in hot pursuit, Glory plowed her way through the heavy doors only to find herself trapped in the courtyard. Before she could reach the other side of the gated garden she felt her arm wrenched almost out of its socket with a bruising force.

“Let go of me, Santino!” She hissed as she whirled to face him. The terror she felt at finding him standing before her was momentarily eclipsed by a quick and sudden burst of fury. She had thought that she had left the nightmare of all things Abiatti behind her long ago. How was it possible that this family had the power to keep screwing with her life? As she attempted to wrench herself free from the man’s grip, it angered her beyond reason to find, that despite a lifestyle filled with addiction and debauchery, that the years had been kind to Vincenzo’s oldest son.