Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4) (25 page)

Glory looked back at him stunned. She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, then opened it again. Like a fish gulping for air. Jules looked at her hard before he continued on with fervency.

“Now, I know that you have your doubts and I sure as hell don’t blame you. But the way I see it is this—doubting is good. It’s okay to doubt—it can be a good thing, because that means you’re not completely sold either way. So there has got to be a part of you that thinks maybe it could work—that we might have a chance. That’s all I am asking you is to give us that chance. Will you do that, Glory? Will you give us that chance? I really hope the fuck so, because my biggest fear—the only thing that I am afraid of in this whole goddamn world—is losing you.”

Jules words held such pained intensity and vulnerability that Glory was left completely speechless. Jules waited about two beats of his heart before he looked at her accusingly.

“Well, you going to say something?” He choked out the question.

In answer, Glory got up on unsteady feet and did some pacing of her own.

“So, it’s like this.” She stopped in front of him, looked up into his stormy eyes and forced the words out from the deepest part of her soul. “I love you too, Jules. And not in some fairy-tale damsel in distress kind of way, either. And not because you’re smart, or strong or gentle or the most beautiful man I have ever seen —all those things are true by the way. I think I have been in love with you for a very long time—from that first horrible night when you pulled me out of Reno’s car and wrapped your arms around me. The time I spent away from you was the worst and loneliest time of my whole life. I don’t want to fight what I feel for you anymore. I don’t want to overthink it, or be afraid of it, or question it. I want you. I want all of you. I want the life we will build together and everything that comes with that. I choose you.”

Jules looked at her much the way she had looked at him earlier. Speechless and in awe. Her heart was beating up into her throat as she waited for him to respond. And for a crazy moment she thought that maybe he had changed his mind about her. That once she had made a declaration of her own and he was faced front and center with the possibility of their life together, he had finally realized what he might be getting himself into…

“Well, you gonna say something?” she choked out.

In answer, Jules let out a low groan, then reached out to her. Glory laid her cheek against his chest as she felt his big, strong arms wrap around her like banded steel. She let out a small sigh of contentment, because being held by him again felt warm and safe and natural.

Just like it always did.

It felt like home.

“Glory, you love me? You sure?” he whispered against her hair.

“I’m sure,” she whispered back.

“Well, it’s about fucking time.” He grinned just before his mouth closed over hers.

Three months later.

Glory held on tight for dear life as the bike dipped and swayed and hugged the curves on the road too tightly. Jules’s push on the throttle was a little too heavy for her liking. She wished for the millionth time that he had given in to her strong suggestion that they take her car. It was a great car— a 3 series BMW that Jules had surprised her with after he traded in the Ram. It was stately and conventional and screamed law-abiding. Glory thought it might be just the thing to help with the day’s mission.

But Jules would hear none of it. Not only had he insisted on taking the Harley, but he was decked out in full outlaw style—dusty leather chaps, Hells Saints cut, black T-shirt worn tight and stretched against the bulging biceps of his heavily inked arms.

And he hadn’t shaved.

No statement there
. Glory could not keep the little bit of sarcasm from her thoughts.

She adjusted her grip around Jules’s waist when one of the spikes in his silver studded belt bit into her belly. Then she winced as she chewed down on her lip too hard and wondered for the thousandth time if she had made the right decision. It had taken Glory almost a month to get up the courage to even broach the subject with Jules. Then another two months to talk him into making the trip.

Maybe they should have called first.

But he wouldn’t agree to that, either.

She understood his reasoning. Full acceptance or none at all. A polite phone call might lead to a polite, albeit awkward, invitation.

And Jules did not do awkward.

And he certainly do not do polite.

Glory just hoped that the day wouldn’t end in disaster and heartbreak for all concerned.

One day you’re crossing the street and your own mother doesn’t recognize you. That’s chasing the dragon.

Glory had heard the pain and longing that had rumbled out from Jules’s voice the night he told her about his mother. Her heart broke when he explained the devastating effects that his addiction had had on their relationship. Over the past couple of months, as Glory slowly coaxed out more information from Jules about Victoria Bonny, it became evident that mother and son had enjoyed a strong, healthy and loving bond. Of course the addiction had changed of all that. It was not her fault, Jules had assured Glory.

Victoria had done everything she could to find him—on her own, and with the help of a private detective agency. The mother had searched tirelessly for her son. Jules had told Glory that once, when he was shooting up, he heard his mother’s voice two rooms away. She had brought the police with her to an abandoned crack house an hour away from their home because she had gotten word that her son could be found there. Jules, deep in the throes of addiction, had hidden on the fire escape until they were gone.

Then, because it had to, life eventually moved on for Victoria. She pursued her nurse practitioner’s license and got married again. This time to an architect. She never moved out of their family home, or took down the tree house in the backyard. Jules was able to share all of this with Glory because he had used his connections to keep track of his mother and had made a point of driving by the house once or twice a year.

But Jules never stopped.

He never pulled over to the curb.

Never rang the doorbell or slowed down when he saw someone in the backyard.

Ten years.

A long time to go without seeing your mom.

And Glory was determined to change that.

*****

It had surprised Glory to learn that Jules had grown up in a small affluent town only about one hundred and fifty miles away from the Hells Saints compound. Unfortunately for her, that drive was mostly highway miles—cringe-worthy, white-knuckled, weaving in and out of heavy traffic miles. Miles that Glory mostly closed her eyes and prayed through. She was filled with relief when they finally turned off onto an exit ramp that led to a smaller two lane city highway. That road turned into a series of smaller roads and gave way to the well-groomed residential section of town. Jules reduced speed as they passed through the tree- lined streets until they came to a sudden stop in front of a beautiful field stone and cedar palatial style home. There was a pretty cobblestone walkway leading up past the three car garage. That path led to a front door that was large enough to drive a compact car through. The house itself had to be at least five thousand square feet and boasted some serious landscaping.

Holy shit. This was Jules’s childhood home? And Glory had thought that she had grown up in wealth and privilege. This house could certainly rival her parents’ estate, and maybe come out the winner.

The irony of it all did not escape her. Not even a little bit.

Life is a very strange journey,
Glory thought to herself as she tugged on the zipper of her leather riding jacket. She berated herself silently for not wearing the more expensive lavender shirt instead of her favorite peach cotton sweater. Her jeans were more worn than she would have liked, but they were her most comfortable ones and she knew the trip was going to be a long one. Her boots were new at least, and her hair was freshly washed and cut. All these thoughts flitted through her mind in the minute it took to unstrap her helmet and shake out her hair.

Glory blew out a small puff of air as she checked her mascara in the bike’s rearview mirror.

Jules scowled at her. “Stop fussing, for crissakes, Glory. It’s just a house.”

Then without another word, he grabbed her by hand and pulled Glory up the walkway. When they got to the front door, Jules froze. Not a muscle, not a breath, not a hair moved on his head.

With one exception.

The hold he had on her hand had increased to bone crushing pressure. Glory tried, but could not contain a small gasp of pain.

“You okay, babe?” Jules dragged his eyes away from the door and glanced over to her.

“You’re gonna break my hand, honey,” she whispered to him, suddenly very unsure of the wisdom of this visit. “Nobody’s seen us yet, if you want to leave.”

“Nah. Fuck it. We’re here now.” Jules let go of her hand and knocked heavily on the carved oak.

A minutes or so passed with no answer and Jules raised his hand to knock again when the door was flung wide open. The man, who was about to step outside, paused midstride, took a step back and closed the door just slightly.

“Oh, I am sorry. I was just about to leave. I didn’t hear anyone knocking,” he explained. Then he frowned in apparent confusion. “Can I help you with something?”

He looked to be in his early sixties, tall, slightly built, and very well, but casually, dressed. A light blue, tissue weight cashmere sweater covered his thin torso, pleated and perfectly pressed khaki pants hung from his narrow hips.

They all just stared at each other for a moment.

Jules cleared his throat.

Twice.

Then with his face a blank mask he asked, “Is my ...uh…my…uh… is Vicky home?”

The words hung in the air for a full moment, before the man at the door recovered.

“You have business with my wife?” His look of incredibility just about broke Glory’s heart.

Victoria’s husband had no idea who Jules was.

Maybe he didn’t even know his wife had a son.

Jules and the man just stared at each other for a moment. And it was all Glory could do to keep her mouth shut. She studied the ground in awkward embarrassment, unwilling to face the pain that she knew must be evident on Jules’s face.

“Do you know who I am?” His voice ground out. “Why I’m here?”

“No.” The man shook his head. “I have no idea who you are. Or what business you could possibly have with my wife.”

For all the painful messages those words conveyed, Glory noticed that the man’s tone was not unkind. To her at least, his demeanor seemed more confused than contemptuous. But Glory knew that Jules would not hear it that way.

“Enough said,” Jules growled. “Sorry to waste your time.”

With that he grabbed Glory by the hand and pulled her down the steps and along the cobbled walk to the bike.

“Wait!” The man called out suddenly. They looked up to find him running down the pathway towards them.

“My wife…she has a son.” He looked at Jules. “Are you by any chance, Jules?”

Jules cleared his throat and nodded.

“My name’s Sherwood…Nathan Sherwood… Nate,” He stammered then held out his hand.

Jules hesitated just slightly before he engulfed the man’s hand in his large paw.

“Jules.” Jules withdrew his hand and gave Glory a tight squeeze around the waist. “And this is Glory.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Glory dimpled at him.

"The pleasure is all mine, Glory.” His smile seemed genuine.

Then Nate Sherwood looked from Glory to Jules and back again.

“Will you come in?” he asked.

“Thought you were going out,” Jules muttered. He was suddenly extremely uncomfortable. His heart was racing and he had broken out in a cold sweat.

Fucking panic attack. Hadn’t had one in years…

Nate looked at him closely. “You okay, son?”

Son.

Jules bristled at the term, but when he looked at the man standing before him, Jules saw only kind concern radiating out from his eyes.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Thought you were going out?” Jules repeated as he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

“Just a lecture. There’s a few a month. Nothing I can’t miss and besides I was going out but your mother is out in the back gardening. It will only take me only a moment to go get her. Please. Come in.” Nate was not to be dissuaded.

“We’re just passing through, we’ll come back another time. We don’t want to put you to any trouble.” Jules willed his hand to stop shaking as he reached for his helmet.

“We would love to come in.” Glory’s voice rang out strong and clear.

Damn interfering…

“Jules?” A woman’s voice rang out from across the lawn towards him.

And poof.

Just like that.

Jules was ten years old again.

“Jules?” The voice was getting closer.

“Jules?”
The voice was getting louder.

“Oh my God! Jules!” His mother had pulled him into her loving arms and was holding him tighter than he had ever been held before.

“Thank you.” His mother whispered into his ear. “Thank you for coming home to me.”