Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4)

by Paula Marinaro

  “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?”

  Chapter 23

  Sandy was standing behind the counter when they entered the lobby of the High gate. Already a tall blonde who wore blood red lipstick and matching acrylic nails, her tight bright pink shirt revealed she also carried about half of her body weight on her chest.

  Riker was going to love her.

  “Mr. Abiatti booked a half hour massage and he went in about five minutes ago.” Sandy leaned across the counter and whispered, “You make sure you’re out of there in time. And don’t move anything. Don’t turn anything on. Or off. And don’t take anything. You just want to look around right?” Sandy heaved her mighty chest. “He’s not even letting our housekeeping services in.”

  “Don’t worry, he will never know we were there,” Claire promised.

  Sandy took another quick look around the lobby and waited for a man to exit through the door before she reached down behind the counter and came up with the flat magnetic key card. “Okay, here you go. It’s on the tenth floor. Take the elevator up, but just in case, I’d take the back stairs down. Go out the emergency exit. The buzzer on the door doesn’t work—maintenance won’t have time until tomorrow to fix it. Leave the key under the towels on the maid cart at the end of the hallway. ” She slipped the key car
d across the counter, adding, “I get a personal invite to the next Saints thing—and you’re gonna hook me up with Riker.”

  “Sure thing. And thanks, Sandy.” Claire smiled at her.

  “What time is Abiatti checking out?” Glory suddenly asked.

  “You bitches are gonna are kill me,” Sandy sighed. When Claire and Glory stood without moving, Sandy placed her lacquered nails on the computer key board. Three keys and a space bar later she looked up at them. “He’s leaving today. It doesn’t look like he paid for a late check-out. So good chance he’ll be out of here right after the massage. Now get your asses up there and do what you have to do, Riker’s a fine lookin’ man, but he ain’t worth my job.” Sandy drummed red talons on the counter and pursed her heavily painted lips.

  The girls kept their baseball-capped heads down as they made their way to the elevator. They pressed the button to the tenth floor then walked down the hallway and paused at the door numbered 301. When Glory slid the card through the lock and the light flashed green, the two friends exchanged a look, inhaled a sharp breath and stepped inside.

  Even without maid service, Santino’s room was, as Glory had expected it to be, in perfect order. Everything was neat and precise to the point of obsessiveness, just like the man himself. Shoes polished and lined up like soldiers, suitcase emptied and everything arranged just-so in the closet. Hair brush, tooth brush, comb, electric razor, shaving cream, cologne, and other grooming necessities all laid out at a precise angle on the bathroom counter. Bed made—and Glory couldn’t resist lifting the bedspread to look for—yep, crisp hospital corners. The sheets fitted so tightly against the bed Glory was surprised Santino could squeeze his way in at night.

  His laptop lay closed on the desk near the window and the zippered leather binder sat next to it.

  As they'd prearranged, Claire moved to the laptop and Glory went for the binder, praying that they would find them both unlocked.

  Claire pressed down on a couple of keys and whispered. “No password. He just left this sitting here like this?”

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” Glory whispered back. Given Santino’s arrogance it made sense to her. “Remember Sandy said that Santino is not letting anyone in here. And even if he did, he would never believe that anyone would dare touch his stuff.”

  “Lucky for us, then, that he’s an egomaniacal bastard.” Claire smiled, pushed the flash drive into the slot and began to scan through any files she thought might be helpful in figuring out what he was up to.

  Glory grabbed the leather binder sitting on the desk. She unzipped it and laid out the photos of Hal alongside the flight manifest and began to take pictures of them. She found two more folders in the case filled with dates, a variety of schedules, the names of a few shipping companies and what looked like bank account numbers. She took pictures of those too, in case they might be of use later. Better safe than sorry.

  The girls worked efficiently, quietly and thoroughly. Fifteen minutes later they were ready to leave. They did a quick perusal of the room to make sure everything was precisely as it had been. Satisfied, they lowered their baseball caps over their heads once again and closed the door firmly behind them.

  Glory and Claire hurried down the hallway and tucked the key under the towels on the maid cart as instructed. Then they took the back staircase and ran down three flights of stairs. Glory held her breath when they opened the emergency exit door that proclaimed in big red letters— The Alarm Will Sound.

  Thank god it didn’t.

  Now they sat together in the back parking lot.

  “Mission accomplished.” Claire shot Glory a triumphant look from behind the steering wheel.

  “Yeah.” Glory grinned and raised her hand for a high five. Then asked, “What do we do now?”

  “Sandy said that Santino was checking out soon, right?” Claire looked at Glory.

  “Yeah. That’s his rental over there.” Glory pointed to the black Escalade sitting at the far end of the lot.

  “I took a peek at his flight itinerary; he’s not flying out until tomorrow. What do you think he’s going to be doing until then?” Claire asked her.

  “I don’t know.” Glory shrugged then slid down further in the seat. “But that’s him coming around the corner now. What do you think we should do?”

  “I think we should follow him for a while and see if we can find anything out,” Claire said with purpose. Then she put her sunglasses on and turned the key in the ignition.

  Glory nodded and looked at her friend with heart-felt admiration. Claire had turned out to be the perfect partner in crime.

  Sistah had some balls.

  Hours later, when they were forced to look back on it, Claire and Glory both agreed that following Santino Abiatti was one of the more stupid and reckless decisions—in a pretty long line of stupid and reckless decisions—that the two friends had ever made together.

  But, as the saying goes, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

  Chapter 24

  Prosper hunched over the table, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to relieve himself of the pounding pain that radiated right through his temple, behind his eyes and down the back of his neck. From his stance across the room Diego scowled and shook his head. He stood at attention with his long strong legs slightly parted and his heavily inked arms wrapped tight across his muscled chest. His dark brown eyes were pinned to the small group seated at the table in an expression that clearly said—

  Unfuckingbelievable.

  Pinky sat stiff and rigid between the two terrified young women and her angry husband.

  A flash drive, a cell phone, and a 9 mm gun sat on the scarred wooden table.

  “Now tell me again—” Prosper snarled.

  “Honey, I think we have been over this part of it,” Pinky interrupted him, reaching over to lay her small hand gently on her husband’s large forearm.

  In a sudden and forceful move, Prosper flexed his wife’s hand off him. Then he pounded a fist down on the table and bellowed out in fury. “And we will go over it again and again and a-fucking-gain until I am satisfied with the goddamn answers. We’ll go over it all motherfucking night if I say we do.”

  Pinky threw her husband a look of exasperation while Glory and Claire jumped in their chairs. Glory fought back rising hysteria.

  “Well, like I was at the bakery opening—” Glory began, with fear choking her words.

  “Jesus. Not that again. I got that,” Prosper spat. “I get it about the whole blackmail bullshit. What I want to know is when it was that you two geniuses decided it was a good idea to follow the fucker.” The big man looked at Glory and Claire like he was two seconds away from putting his powerful hands around their necks and squeezing the life out of them.

  “That would be after we searched his room,” Claire said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “And once more, how did you get in?” Prosper asked between clenched teeth.

  “We bribed the day manager,” Glory answered.

  “The bitch works for us, you said?”

  “Yeah. She waitresses a few nights a week. And well—she kind of has this thing for Riker,” Claire muttered. “So I—uh—promised her I’d put in a good word.”

  Prosper glared at her. Then he threw a look at Diego. “You know who the fuck they’re talking about?”

  “Yeah. You know her too. Sandy.” Then Diego cupped his hands at his chest and made a bouncing motion.

  Prosper nodded at the gesture as recognition lit his eyes almost instantly.

  “Oh, yeah.” Prosper acknowledged. “Her.”

  Then.

  “I need a damn drink.”

  As Diego reached into his leather cut and pulled the flask out of it, he cast a quick apologetic glance at Pinky. Then he walked over to his boss.

  Prosper followed that glance back to his disgusted-looking wife. As he tore the flask out of Diego’s hand, he shouted at him, “Why you looking at my old lady? I don’t need her fucking p
ermission to have a goddamn drink.”

  Diego raised his hands up in surrender while Pinky glared right back at her husband. Prosper held the flask to his lips and paused just for a moment as if daring his wife to contradict him. When she stayed determinedly silent, but for a raised eyebrow, Prosper took a long pull of the Jack Daniels. Then he gave his woman another glare and shot back one more hit of the booze just to show her who was boss. Pinky, on her part, rolled her eyes at Prosper’s juvenile display.

  Prosper saw the eye roll and grumbled, “Fuck the heart attack, it’s the females in my life who are going to kill me.”

  Claire licked her dry lips and croaked out nervously as she nodded to the flask. “Do you think we could have some of that?”

  “Absolutely fucking not,” he barked. But then his voice softened just a bit and his eyes met his wife’s across the table. “Woman, get them some water.”

  “Yes, dear.” Pinky bowed her head in a parody of a submissive 1950’s house wife. “Whatever you say, dear.”

  Prosper narrowed his eyes at her, but when she passed him on the way to the kitchen, he gave her a light spank on her bottom. Pinky responded by slapping her husband’s hand away, but before she left the room she winked at the girls as if to say the worst of it is over.

  “So what did you say her name was again?” Prosper asked Diego.

  When Diego volleyed a confused look back at Prosper, Prosper let out a long suffering sigh.

  “The bitch with the big jugs who let Thelma and Louise here into Abiatti’s hotel room?”

  “Sandy—” Diego trailed off. Then he drew his brows together in thought. After a moment he continued with surety, “Brady. Sandy Brady.”

  “Can we trust her?”

  “Yeah. She’s cool.” Diego considered. “Especially if she’s wet for Riker. Besides, I think she’s too dumb to be dangerous.”

  “That’s right. That’s Sandy.” Glory shook her head in enthusiastic agreement.