Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4) (13 page)

“Please don’t do anything to hurt him,” she pleaded.

“I have no interest in making life difficult for Hal, or you for that matter. If it were up to me I might even let the matter drop. My father was not an easy man. And I admit that his untimely death did prove—beneficial to me.” Santino spoke of his father’s death as though it were a conveniently timed business deal. At his words, Glory fought the acid bile of disgust that crept up from her belly.

“We have no money, we’re barely making it now.” Her voice filled with desperation. “If it wasn’t for Prosper allowing us to stay at the lake house, we’d be basically homeless. We don’t have the means to make the kind of restitution you must be talking about.” Glory shook her head in confusion. “You’d be a fool not to know that.”

“Don’t ever mistake me for a fool, Glory. Of course I know that,” Santino snapped at her. His eyes flashed bright with anger before he forced the cool calm back in his voice. “My father’s death has left me head of the family and in that role I have decided to expand the family business to include some new associates. As in any new business arrangement, a level of trust needs to be established. My friends south of the border have entrusted me with a task. A small matter that, upon its completion, will give them the proof they need that the Abiatti family can be a powerful ally. You actually play a very small part in it. Minuscule, really. I just need some small bits of information on your friend Prosper and his boys. Information that I’m certain you can gain access to whenever I should need it.”

“You want me to spy on the Saints for you?” Glory gasped. “Why? What do they have to do with this? With you?”

“Just all part of the bigger picture, princess. But if you don’t want to see your brother spend the rest of his life in prison, you’ll help with that.”

Glory bit down on her lip so hard that she drew blood. A million images flashed through her mind. Memories of all the times that Prosper and his crew had been there for her. To protect and shelter her. Of everything she owed them.

Then the images of her brother came flooding through. Growing up and depending on him—then him depending on her—then his poor broken body fighting to make its way back to the land of the living. To have survived all he had survived—all they had survived together—just to have him to spend the rest of his life rotting away in a maximum security prison? All because of a bad decision—a mistake in judgment that she, herself, had made?

Not. Gonna. Happen.

“Just tell me what you want me to do,” Glory looked Santino in the eye and sighed in miserable resignation. “And I’ll do it.”

The minute Glory got home her stomach emptied itself. She had barely hit the threshold of the bathroom when her knees gave way from under her and her stomach began to cramp in long violent spasms of pain. The wretched heaves continued to assail her body long after the contents of her stomach had been purged. Over and over and over again the waves of nausea washed over her until she lay limp and exhausted on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor.

Fear, she thought to herself wryly, is a strong and cleansing emotion.

Not able to trust her feet to hold her up, Glory raised herself carefully to her knees, reached to the sink and rinsed the sour taste in her mouth out with mouthwash. Then, fighting the nausea and dizziness, she gripped the side of the porcelain basin and slowly stood up. After taking a moment to clear her head, she walked over to the tub, and ran a hot, steaming bath filled with a mixture of lavender and rose bath salts. Then with shaking hands she slowly undressed herself, being careful not to aggravate what she feared was a badly sprained or maybe even fractured finger. Later on she would ice it and if necessary use something in the household first aid kit to splint it. But right now all she wanted to do was to sink into the silky healing water, and try her best to calm her shattered nerves and clear her frazzled mind.

She leaned back and let the hot bath release the tension of the stinging, knotted muscles bunched up between her shoulder blades and ease the dull pain in her temple. A myriad of questions raced through her mind. The first one being, who, if anyone, she could tell about Santino’s blackmail scheme.

Who could help her?

Because the decision had been made.

She would not see Hal spend the rest of his life in prison for offing that bastard Vincenzo.

That was a no brainer.

She would do anything she had to do to stop that from happening.

But—

The Hells Saints MC was her family too.

She had arrived at their door step as a stranger, half dead from the trauma and abuse and terror that Gino Abiatti had rained on her.

And they had healed her, sheltered her and protected her—no questions asked.

Raine and Claire had become the sisters that she never had. Dolly and Pinky had loved her like she was their own. She would not betray them or their men in order to satisfy a debt that was hers and hers alone.

So no matter what Glory had told him, Santino could go straight to hell.

But if she stood a chance of saving them all from his dastardly intentions, then she was going to need help.

But who?

She could not handle this alone. She didn’t have the wits or the courage to face this newest threat single handedly. She was emotionally exhausted, depleted and bordering on the edge of hysteria.

She needed help.

But not just any help. This situation required a woman’s touch.

A badass woman’s touch.

Her thoughts immediately and naturally ran down the list of her girl posse.

First up were the two mother hens. Pinky and Dolly.

Pinky was a loyal and loving friend. With no biological children of her own she took on the mother role to all of them. And did it well. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for “family.” And Glory knew that Pinky counted her as family. And for all her tiny stature, Glory knew that Pinky could hold her own with the best of them. She had to, being married to a big old bear like Prosper. But Pinky had a hard time keeping things from her husband—she wore her heart on her sleeve and every emotion she ever had showed easily on her face. So even if Glory could somehow convince Pinky to secretly help her, Prosper would be able to read that face like a book.

So not Pinky.

Dolly?

Her relationship with Gianni Abruzzi might prove helpful. The Abruzzis were a powerful name in the Cosa Nostra and reigned supreme in the Northeast. Santino had mentioned them as a name that he did not want to reckon with. But Glory knew that the Abiatti family was not without influence themselves and just about owned the off strip Vegas Casinos. While she couldn’t imagine Gianni aligning himself with the Abiatti family against the Saints, Jules’s warning kept ringing in her ears—the wops stick together. And Glory wasn’t willing to take the chance that he might be right.

Not Dolly.

That left Raine and Claire.

Raine had two little girls who depended on her. And Glory could not/would not risk putting her in even a moment of harm’s way. Besides, her hands were so full with raising Willow and Patience that Glory rarely saw her. Although, Glory smiled slightly in spite of herself, managing Diego with his overbearing and protective tendencies was probably more work for Raine than both children combined.

No. She couldn’t put this on Raine.

So that left Claire.

Brave, smart, loyal Claire.

Claire was Glory’s best friend. And she certainly was no stranger to the evil that the Abiatti family was capable of. As a matter of fact, Claire and Glory had met when Gino Abiatti was on a kidnapping and killing rampage. Glory owed her life and sanity to Claire’s brave, cool, calm and caring nature. And Claire could be counted on to keep a secret. Also from what Santino had said about the word being out that Reno had killed Gino—Claire had a stake in bringing him down too. But then again Santino had made it clear that he and his associates considered Gino’s death inconsequential.

So hopefully that put Reno in the clear.

Although there really was no statute of limitations in the crime of murder.

But still—she couldn’t involve Claire in this.

Her friend had already been through so much.

Reno and Claire had been through so much together.

And they had finally seemed to have found the happiness they so richly deserved.

Not Claire.

Definitely not Claire.

Glory fought back a sob as she realized she was truly alone.

Again.

Not five minutes into her pity party, Glory let out a small startled scream when she heard what sounded like a trumpeting herd of elephants stomp through the house. Even through the thick wooden door she could hear the sound of running footsteps and loud shouts. Glory barely had time to jump out of the tub, and wrap a towel around her before the door was flung open.

“There you are! Oh my God!” A female voice breathlessly scolded her. “I have been texting you for hours. Where have you been? Didn’t you hear the doorbell ring? I had to use the spare key to get in. I have been trudging through every room in the house calling you! Why didn’t you answer me? Ugh! It smells like puke and flowers in here. What the hell happened to your finger?”

Well—Maybe Claire.

Glory told Claire everything—about Santino accosting her in the courtyard, about the meeting at the restaurant, about the pictures of Hal, the death of Santino’s father, Vincenzo, and lastly the not so veiled threat of blackmail.

When Glory showed Claire her finger, she cried out in outrage. Then she gauzed and splinted it for her and patted her friend’s back. “That bastard,” Claire whispered. “That no good slimy sonofabitch.”

“Asshole,” Glory added for good measure.

“Do you think Hal did it? Do you think your brother killed Santino’s father?” Claire puzzled at her.

“I honestly don’t know.” Glory’s shoulders sagged and she let out a long suffering sigh. “My brother was definitely mad enough to kill Vincenzo when he found out what had happened. That opportunistic slime-bag led me to believe that I was paying off Hal’s debt, when that wasn’t true at all.”

“You said there were pictures? Do you think they were real?” Claire asked. Then she added with hope, “They can do tons with photos these days to alter them.”

“I honestly don’t know. The time stamped photos, maybe those could be altered, but that flight manifest? No. That was real and the time line definitely adds up. So as much as I like to think it’s not true, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that Hal went there to kill Vincenzo.”

“What does Santino want?” Claire asked in a voice filled with fear.

Glory hesitated and met Claire’s wide eyes with a look of misery.

“Oh my God! He wants you to go work for him, doesn’t he? Glory, you aren’t going to do it, are you? You are not thinking of going back to Vegas with him?” Claire gasped.

“I really wish it were that simple.” Glory shook her head. “That’s not it. It’s not about me. Not yet, anyway.”

“Then who? What?”

“He wants information on the Saints.” Glory lowered her voice and didn’t realize she was twisting her hands until a sharp pain sprang up from her bruised finger.

“What kind of information?” Claire let out a cry of despair.

“I don’t know. He hasn’t told me yet.”

“This is bad.” Claire paced the floor. “Really bad.”

Then she went to the cupboard where she knew the wine was kept. She poured them both a large glass, handed one to Glory and grabbed the bottle. They both sat down on the living room couch.

Just like old times
Glory thought with a mixture of gratitude and regret. Because even though she was happy to have Claire by her side, she had really hoped that the days of dealing with dangerous assholes was behind her.

Was behind both of them.

Claire, deep in contemplation, ran her fingers around the rim of the wine glass. She was the first to break the intense silence.

“I wonder what kind of information he’s going to ask you to get?” Claire puzzled.

“I wonder that too. I mean what do I know about the Saints business? Nothing, that’s what.” Glory snorted.

“I bet he starts with something small just to see if you will do it. Last year, I had a credit card stolen and my bank called me. They said that there had been a bunch of small charges placed on my account somewhere in the Midwest—like twenty dollars at several stores in the same mall within a half an hour. The lady on the phone said that was pretty typical. The thieves were testing the waters to see if the card worked, once they found out it did, the bastards went in for the kill. They were able to rack up about two grand worth of stuff before the account was flagged for suspicious activity.”

“So you think Santino is doing that? You think by getting me to agree to help him get intel on the Saints that he is testing the waters?” Glory frowned.

“He already got you to meet him, didn’t he?” Claire pointed out.

“How did the whole thing turn out? With the credit card?” Glory asked in a burst.

“It stopped once someone with enough power to end it, realized what was going on. They put a freeze on the account and the bastards were caught. All the charges on my card were reversed and it all turned out okay.”

“Well, then between you and me—” Glory began.

“Honey, that’s my point,” Claire interrupted her. “We can’t do this ourselves. Girl power and all that stuff, but I’m not sure that even together we’d be strong enough to stop this guy. We really don’t have a clear enough of an idea of what we are dealing with here. This is just the beginning of what he has planned for you.” Claire stood up and began to pace. “And what if we give him what he asks for? Some little piece of information on our boys that we think means nothing and it ends up hurting them?”

“There’s something else—” Glory chewed on her bottom lip. She knew she was about to reveal something devastating to Claire and she wished with all her heart that she didn’t have to.

“Something else? What do you mean something else?” Claire stopped pacing and volleyed a look at her friend.

“Something I haven’t told you.” Glory studied her feet.

“Well—now might be a good time,” Claire said in exasperation.

“Santino knows about Gino,” Glory grimaced.

“What does he know?” Claire narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

“He knows that Reno shot—” Glory looked up at her.

“Stop!” Claire flung her arm out as if she were warding off an evil spell.

Then she gripped the counter as the full impact of Glory’s words hit her. “How? How does he know that?”

“I don’t know.” Glory heard the panic in Claire’s voice. She rushed over to her friend and tried to reassure her. “But I don’t think that they are going to try to use it against Reno.”

“They? Who is they?” Claire whipped around to face Glory.

“I don’t know,” Glory moaned.

“Oh for God’s sake, Glory! Stop saying I don’t know,” Claire snapped at her. “And think.”

Glory winced at the tone of her friend’s voice and suddenly the tears that had been building up pressure behind her eyes for days spilled over onto her cheeks. With an angry hand Glory swiped them away.

But she could not stop the mournful small hiccup.

Or the loud sniffle.

Claire was at once by her side with a tissue and an apology.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry. I just thought, I had
hoped
, that this part of our lives was over—that the danger and the secrets and the violence and the having to save ourselves and those we love from total assholes was something we could finally put behind us.” Claire mirrored Glory’s exact thoughts.

“I know. Me too,” Glory commiserated. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Are they going to come after Reno, do you think?” Claire’s voice was hushed, as if she were thinking of a question that she dared not ask aloud.

“Santino said something about the family not really caring one way or another about Gino’s death because he was such a wild card. And I believe he meant that, or else why not avenge his murder years ago when it happened? I just think he wanted me to know that he knew.”

“Did he say when he would be in touch again?” Claire asked woefully.

“He said he’s got some business in the area and would be meeting with someone tomorrow. He'll be in touch after that. He’s staying in town.”

“Where?”

“At the High gate Hotel.”

“Sandy, a waitress at Ruby’s, is the day manager there.” Claire’s tone turned conspiratorial.

“She is? Do you think we could get her to let us into his room so we can snoop around a little?” Glory asked with hope.

“I don’t know.” Claire considered. “She seems to have a thing for Riker. She’s seen him a couple of times at the bar and has asked about him.”

Glory’s thoughts flashed to Riker, a sexual lunatic who was especially hooked on twenty-something blondes with big tits, small brains, and willing mouths.

“Perfect!” Then Glory steeled her spine and added, “Claire? By any chance—do you know how to use an automatic weapon?”