Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4) (12 page)

Her phone began buzzing on the table just as Jules’s bike roared down the driveway and towards the road. Glory approached it as if it were a ticking bomb or a rattling snake. Santino’s name came blazing across the screen. Glory ran to the window and sighed as she saw that Jules had disappeared from sight.

As if Santino knew.

*****

The next afternoon, Glory entered the lobby of the High gate Hotel and gave her name to the maître d′ as she had been instructed to.

As he led her to the private table that Santino had reserved, her ankles wobbled slightly, unaccustomed to the height of the heels on her dress pumps. With sweating palms she ran her hands down the short skirt of the light blue linen sheath. Her hair was pulled back in a smooth ponytail, and she had taken time with her makeup. She knew that Santino would expect her to look her best. And although she thought about meeting him in flip-flops, a U2 T-shirt and ragged jeans, she figured it was no use pissing him off before she had to.

Santino got out of his seat and stood at the table as he watched Glory walk towards him. When she drew near he lifted the starched cuff of his pristine white shirt and consulted the Submariner Rolex that circled his wrist. Then he bared his perfect teeth in a predatory smile and said, “Just in time. Shall we sit?”

In a false show of gallantry, he pulled out the chair and seated Glory before he took the chair opposite her.

With a slight wave of Santino’s finger, a waiter suddenly appeared tableside. He filled their glasses with wine, and put a small offering of thin strips of prosciutto, an assortment of hard cheeses, and delicate crackers on the table. The sight of the food turned Glory’s stomach, but she needed a drink to calm her nerves. When she reached for the glass and drained it clean of the full bodied chardonnay, Santino smiled indulgently and motioned to the waiter. When the server rushed back over to fill her glass again, Glory put her hand over the rim in a stop motion. Because while she needed a healthy shot of bottled courage, she also knew she needed a clear head to deal with whatever the devil incarnate seated opposite her planned to dish out.

“You look good, Glory.” Santino gave her body a long slow sweep. “You always were a beautiful woman.”

And you were always a misogynist, sadistic, opportunistic bastard.

“Why are you here, Santo?” She used the nickname she knew his father had used when he was dissatisfied with him. A small show of disrespect that Santino would probably make her pay for at some point, but she just couldn’t help herself.

“Ah, quick and to the point. I have always liked that about you,” he said smoothly, but Glory did not miss the glint of suppressed outrage in his eyes.

“You have always hated that about me.” Her response was venomous.

“True.” He chuckled. “I like my women to be a little more—eager to please.” His eyes lingered on her breasts, then honed in on her mouth. “But for you I have always been willing to make an exception.”

Glory felt dirty where his eyes touched her and she could not stop the shiver of revulsion that surged through her body.

“Santo—either tell me why you’re here, or I’m leaving.” Glory reached for the purse she had left sitting on the table and began to pull back her chair.

At the backward scrape of her seat, the waiter who had been standing ever vigilant in the far corner of the room began to move uncertainly towards them.

Santino’s hand shot out and clamped down hard on Glory’s wrist. Then, never losing the smile on his face, he ran a light finger along her pinky and began to slowly bend it back to just under the breaking point. Glory sat rigid in her seat, one small move from her would see her finger snapped in half. Pain shot through her arm and her eyes lit with tears.

“Santino—” She gasped in pain.

“You get up now and you’ll be dead before you get to the door. Do you understand?” He smiled through clenched teeth

Glory nodded. When he released his grip, she almost fainted with relief.

“May I get you something, Miss?” The waiter suddenly stood by the table.

A gun would be nice.

“A glass of water for the lady, please,” Santino answered for her.

Glory resisted the urge to hold onto the waiter’s pant leg and beg him to stay. After he put the crystal goblet tinkling with ice cubes on the table, she watched him walk away with dread in her heart. She brought the water to her lips with shaking hands.

“My associates are concerned that you are going to be difficult. You’re not going to be difficult, are you, Glory?”

With effort, Glory stopped herself from plunging her throbbing finger into the icy water.

“No,” she managed to squeak out.

“Ah.” He gave a satisfied nod. “That’s what I told them. A woman who has done what you have done for her brother would not sacrifice his life by some sense of misguided loyalty.”

Glory tried to clear her way through the pain and the fear and make sense of what Santino was saying.

“I don’t understand. What does Hal have to do with this?” she asked. “And misguided loyalty to who?”

When Santino leaned towards her Glory snatched her hands into the safety of her lap. A small chuckle rose from his throat, his eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the small sign of fear.

“Hal killed Vincenzo, Glory.” He watched her carefully.

“Your father? That’s impossible.” Glory felt her heart leap in her chest. Santino flashed her a sudden menacing smile, shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “Yet it’s true. Gino’s death—you do remember Gino, don’t you?”

Glory felt sick as images of Gino’s head being blown off at close range filled her mind.

Santino continued, “His death, inconvenient as it was, caused us little concern at the time. Actually, all things considered, Reno McCabe did us a favor by getting rid of him.

They knew? The Abiatti family had known all along that Reno had killed Gino?

“Gino was always a loose cannon,” Santino shrugged. “The blackest in a family of very dark sheep,” he paused and chuckled nastily at his own joke. “No one was going to go to war with the Saints over a psycho coke addict—family or not. Especially not after we took into account the MC affiliation with Gianni Abruzzi’s family. The Abruzzi’s ties to the Bonzini syndicate complicated things and for the interest of all the parties involved, we decided to let the matter slide.”

“He was going to kill me.” Glory shivered, remembering all too clearly the night she described. “Gino was holding a knife over me and was going to stab me in the throat when Reno shot him. And then he was going to kill Raine, and her sister, Claire. They are Prosper Worthington’s daughters. Reno had no choice.”

Santino waved his hand dismissively. “Like I said, that’s of little concern. But this matter of Hal and my father. That is a score that needs to be settled.”

“I know you believe what you say—but it’s impossible. My brother couldn’t have killed Vincenzo.
It’s impossible
. He’s been away in the Marines for years, then he got hurt. But you know all that,” Glory cried out.

She couldn’t stop the sudden flare of memory of Hal’s surprise visit to her at the lake house. The visit where he had learned how Santino’s father, Vincenzo, had duped Glory into believing that Hal had agreed that she dance
sans
clothing to pay off his debt. A debt that Vincenzo had assured Hal would be settled differently.

“My brother came out to the lake house once to visit me, but he went back to base right after that,” Glory insisted.

“Perhaps not
right
after that,” he said cryptically. While Glory looked on in confusion Santino reached down to retrieve a zippered leather binder from the floor. He placed it squarely on the table in front of him, then slowly opened the weathered pouch to reveal what appeared to be some sort of file folder. When Glory arched a questioning eyebrow, Santino pushed it to her.

Glory looked at the folder as if it were something lethal. Something that was coiled and hissing and poised to strike.

She looked up at Santino in much the same way. “What is this?”

“It’s the proof you need,” he said coldly. “Open it.”

With shaking hands, Glory reached for the file.

Inside were several time stamped-photographs taken by the security camera in the lobby of the casino/lounge that Vincenzo owned. Pictures of her brother going into the private elevator that led to Abiatti’s penthouse suite. And pictures of him coming back out of it. Glory’s heart fell in dismay as she recognized the date. It was the day after he had left Crownsmount. The day that she had thought her brother well on his way back to his newest assignment in the Middle East.

But according to the security photo footage in front of her, Hal had made a detour.

“I had no idea that Hal went out to Vegas after seeing me at Crownsmount.” Glory kept her tone even, but she felt sick inside. “So he came to visit? So what? We used to live there, for God’s sake. He’s known your father for years. This doesn’t prove anything.”

Glory bit down on her lip as she fought to keep her voice calm. She could not let Santino see her getting upset. She had this one chance to get him to throw all his cards on the table and she was not going to get him to do that by showing fear or weakness.

In a purposeful move to create even more tension and fear, Santino stalled. He stabbed at the food on his plate, chewed deliberately, and then slowly wiped his mouth at the corners.

“Try the prosciutto?”

Santino leaned over to put several thin pieces of the aromatic meat on her plate. A lady who was seated in a table just out of earshot, smiled at what appeared to be a sweet and solicitous gesture. Santino had also noticed the woman and he smiled gallantly back at her.

Glory wanted to rip that fork out of his hand and stab him with it. This was a game Santino loved to play.

Deception, cruelty and perversion disguised in a cloak of old world charm.

And he played it well.

Still he couldn’t keep the obvious gleam of malice out of his eyes when he turned back to Glory.

“My father was found dead in his suite a few hours after those pictures were taken. As you can see the time stamp incriminates your brother.” He thumbed lightly through the photos in the folder. He handed her a small pile of documents that included crime scene forensics.

Glory skimmed the reports, not really sure of what she was looking at. Then her eyes volleyed back to the security photos of her brother arriving and leaving the elevator that led to Vincenzo’s personal suite of rooms at the top floor of the club.

“The airport in Vegas is only a ten-minute ride from the club. Hal could have easily been gone long before Vincenzo was killed,” she told him.

And that’s when Santino played his trump card. He handed her two passenger lists. Two flight manifests that Glory knew to be impossible to obtain without a specific, and hard to get court order.

But somehow Santino managed to circumvent all those legalities and now had the damning documents in his hand.

And she saw without a doubt that the timeline fit the crime and could be used as evidence against her brother.

Oh. My. God.

“Who found him? Who found your father?” Glory asked with suspicion.

“I did.” Santino had the look of someone who held all the cards.

Mother Fucker.

Glory skimmed the coroner’s report frantically for a moment. There it was:
cause and manner were not determined by the autopsy.

Glory looked up at Santino.

“The report says that the cause of death is inconclusive.” Glory pointed to the document.

“Yes, it does. And therefore no arrests could be made. As you can imagine that has always concerned me,” Santino said easily. “Perhaps an exhumation may be in order. In light of any new evidence in the case, that is.”

“The police don’t have these photos of Hal going up to Vincenzo’s suite?” Glory guessed at his game.

“Not yet they don’t.” Santino’s lips formed the words, but his reptilian eyes screamed
“gotcha.”

Glory narrowed her eyes at her tormentor as his motives came into sharp focus. So this was blackmail. Plain and simple. If Santino did not get what he wanted, he was going to pin his father’s murder on Glory’s brother. She forced herself to remain calm and think clearly as a million questions flooded her mind. If Santino had these photos, then what else did he have? If he was the one who “found” Vincenzo’s body, what other evidence did he have time to plant that could be used against Hal? It was no secret that Santino’s circle of corrupt influence spread far and wide.

Or maybe what he said was true. Maybe Hal did kill Vincenzo. It was not out of the realm of possibility. Not considering the rage that had filled her brother when he had found out that Santino’s father had tricked her into subjugating herself in the most demeaning way possible.

With abject misery Glory realized that she could not discount the very real likelihood that Hal had killed Vincenzo.

Images of what an arrest, a trial, and a possible life sentence in prison would do to her brother filled and panicked her.