“And Hal?” Jules prompted. “What did Hal do?”
“Hal played cards.” She swallowed hard. “With the money I made, Hal bought his way into the private gaming clubs. Growing up in Vegas, there were always plenty of guys hanging around who were a lot like my dad. Hal looked up to all of them. I remember him getting in big trouble once after he got caught hanging around the back door of one of the casinos my dad used to frequent. My mom was furious. But in a weird way I think my dad was proud. Turns out my father’s idea of father-son bonding time was allowing Hal to sit in on the games that dad hosted. At first he was just allowed to do kid stuff like empty the ash trays, or grab a couple of beers out of the fridge for the guys. But my brother was always a smart kid with an amazing memory and intense focus. He paid attention, asked questions and the guys got a kick out of teaching him the tricks of the trade. Then, as Hal got older, he was allowed a place at the tables. And he became pretty good at it. My dad used to brag about his son winning a large bet the way that other dads brag about their son winning sports trophies, or college scholarships.” Glory paused and gave Jules a rueful smile.
Jules nodded, maintaining his intense focus on her.
Glory looked down at their clasped hands and continued, “So that’s what Hal did to help make ends meet. And he did pretty well. Well enough to take my meager pay check and turn it into something we could live on. Hal had a quick mind, a good memory and thrived on the adrenalin rush. But unlike my dad, he was able to keep it all in check for a while. For just a little over a year, it was all good.”
“Until it wasn’t,” Jules guessed.
“Yeah. Exactly. Until it wasn’t.” Glory let out a fractured breath. “Hal started to lose. At first the losses were small and only occasional. But it seemed that in no time at all those small and occasional losses turned into bigger and more frequent losses. By the time it all came crashing down around him, my brother was into serious debt with some very serious individuals. The serious of them all was—” Glory stopped as if loath to say his name.
“Vincenzo Abiatti?” Jules asked, but it really wasn’t a question.
“Vincenzo Abiatti,” Glory confirmed with a frown. “I found out just how deeply my brother had gotten himself into trouble when I woke to find him lying across the threshold of our apartment door beaten and bloodied. I called an ambulance and Hal spent almost a week in the hospital. Two of his ribs had been kicked in and his spleen had to be removed. The story was that he had been mugged. That’s what he reported to the police, but he didn’t even try to lie to me. I knew that he was in serious trouble.”
“Trouble that you thought it was your job to get him out of.” Jules scrubbed a hand over his face trying hard to contain himself. But he knew if he wanted to get the whole story out of Glory, it was important that he remain calm and outwardly unaffected by her words.
“The dancing is how you got him out of it,” Jules surmised with a clenched jaw.
Glory nodded her misery.
“Vincenzo Abiatti had been one of my father’s business acquaintances. He had been out at the house a few times. I remember that one of the biggest arguments that my parents had was because my dad thought that Vincenzo was paying too much attention to my mom. After the accident everyone on the strip knew our story, but no one ever bothered to talk to the two kids who had fallen on hard times. Except Vincenzo, he was kind and solicitous whenever he came to the restaurant. He always took a minute to talk to me and he tipped me big when I showed him to his table. He came in often. At least three times a week,” she went on with difficulty. “He said if I ever needed anything —if there was anything he could do for us to let him know.”
“So you let him know.” Jules’s jaw hardened.
“Yeah. I did. I let him know,” Glory said with sadness. “I thought that maybe considering the history between our families Vincenzo would make it right for us, maybe even give Hal’s debt a pass. And that was my first mistake. Because while I thought I was asking for help from a family friend, what I got was a deal with the devil. But I didn’t understand all of that until it was too late. By the time I realized the trap I had caught myself in, Hal was in the Marines. He was happy. My brother was finally a part of something bigger than himself. Surrounded by men who had his back, he had found his family. He had become the man he was meant to be.”
“And you? What happened to you?” Jules kept his voice even with effort. Glory’s story was killing him. Fucking killing him. To be that young, that vulnerable and that trusting only to become a victim of some old lecherous bastard. When Jules thought of how the motherfucker probably sat in a dark corner and jerked off while he watched Glory dance, Jules was filled with a violent rage that had him clenching his teeth so hard that he felt a back tooth crack.
Glory broke into his thoughts with quiet alarm. “Jules?”
“Yeah baby. I’m right here. Keep talking,” he reassured her with a long measured breath. “Hal joined the Marines and I get it was good for him. Now I want to hear what happened to you.”
“Me?” Glory bit down on her lip as she seemed to struggle for the words. “I was—lost. I couldn’t be the person I had been before. And I had no idea what kind of person I was supposed to become. I was just grief and sorrow and the only thing that stood between my brother and a wasted life. So I did what I thought I had to do to keep Hal safe— feathers and sequins and all. Now I see that if I wasn’t so desperate and—” Here she grimaced and flushed in embarrassment, “Dumb. I might have been able to work out the truth behind the lies. At the time, working for Vincenzo seemed a small price to pay for holding on to what little I had left. Then I met Gino. Gino was Vincenzo’s nephew and he would come out to Vegas every few months and throw his money around. He was nice to me. Nice in a way no one had ever been before. When he offered to give me a chance at another life, I jumped at it. I don’t know what kind of deal Gino struck with Vincenzo, but he got me out of there. And I was grateful enough to believe all his lies. It wasn’t long before I realized that I had made a horrible mistake. I put up with the cheating and beatings all the while waiting for my chance, and planning my escape. It all came to head that night in his garage when we caught Raine with that box. He was seconds away from bashing her head in when I hit him with his own gun and ran away. I thought that finally I was free.” Glory paused with a shuddered breath and brushed an angry tear from her cheek. “But I didn’t have a lot of money or any real place to go so of course it didn’t take him long to find me. And when he did—” Glory lowered her eyes and flushed in shame. “After he— after he punished me— he got it in his mind to go get Raine. And you know the rest.”
Glory’s chest filled with fear and her mouth went dry with the pain of remembering.
“Yeah, baby, I know the rest,” Jules reached out with a gentle touch and tilted her chin up until their eyes met again. Until the only thing that she could see was his love and concern. When she sagged slightly in exhausted despair, Jules gathered her up in his arms and moved them both towards the bed. He murmured gently to her until she felt her eyes grow heavy and her exhausted limbs turn into lead weights. Finally she surrendered herself into the warmth of his strong arms and thanked God that he didn’t press her further.
Because she couldn’t talk about it anymore.
She couldn’t talk about how, after Gino found her, she realized the hell that she had been living in was merely a fraction of the perversion that he was capable of. He had raped her and sodomized her. He had caged her in and made her crawl and beg like an animal, then had beaten her with closed fists for days.
And days.
And days on end.
Glory couldn’t tell Jules that the only thing she had felt when Reno blew off the back of Gino’s head was gratitude.
And she was ashamed to tell him that the thought of Vincenzo being dead, even at the hands of her own brother, filled her with relief.
*****
He punished me.
After Jules had tuc
ked an exhausted Glory safely into his bed, he fought through the rage as he walked across the compound to the clubhouse where he knew Prosper and his brothers would be waiting.
He punished me.
Her words stopped Jules in his tracks. He took a deep breath, pulled the flask out of his back pocket, and took a deep hit. Then another.
He punished me.
A red haze of murderous rage clouded his vision as the memories of the night Glory had arrived at the compound filled his mind.
Glory huddled in fright, wedged between Claire and Raine.
Glory—bruised, battered and suffering from shock.
With barely controlled violence, Jules spied the ax that sat near the fire pit. He hefted the twenty pounds of wood and steel over his shoulder and leveled it down on the thick log as easily as if he were running a knife through a soft pat of butter.
Glory’s hair hacked off.
Whack!
Glory’s eye blackened and swollen shut.
Whack!
Glory’s lips peeled, torn and bleeding.
Whack!
Glory’s vocal cords permanently damaged from screaming out against the torture.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Jules continued his rage until the pile of wood was splintered all around him. Not for the first time he wished it had been him and not Reno who had blasted a hole through the skull of that motherfucking piece of shit, Gino Abiatti. To think that Glory had put herself at risk at the hands of another one of those fucking…
“Brother, you done making matchsticks?” Diego’s shout cut through the red haze of Jules’s murderous thoughts and filtered through the cool night air. “We need you at the table.”
Chapter 27
Because Prosper was natural born leader with the instincts of a killer, and a man who acted quickly and decisively, Jules was not surprised to see that Hezekiah Jones—president of the Aces, and Gianni Abruzzi—front boss of the Bonzini crime family were already at the table. Jules took his seat opposite Diego. Once all the information was gathered, Prosper would bring in the rest of the crew and they would vote on what action would be taken. When Jules saw Hal seated at the far end, he lifted a questioning eyebrow to Prosper. Not customary for a non-patch member to sit in on a meeting. Gianni’s presence fell under the umbrella of associate, and Hez’s club was an affiliation, but having Hal here as a civilian constituted a breach in protocol.
Prosper clearly read the look that Jules threw him and announced to the room, “I don’t know shit about this Santino asshole. Right now we only have the girls’ account of what the motherfucker is all about. Hal knows him— has dealt with him, and I want him to look at the video and put his two cents in. Executive damn decision. Anybody got a problem with that?”
When the men in the room stayed silent, Prosper got up, dimmed the lights and nodded for Diego to begin streaming the video to a projector from Glory’s phone. It soon became begrudgingly obvious to every man in the room that the girls had done a damn fine job recording the events under the circumstances. The video was clear if a little shaky.
Play, pause, repeat, play, pause, repeat.
Rewind.
“That’s that asshole Bautista all right, boss.” Diego narrowed his eyes at the screen. “What’s he doing this far up the East Coast? And how the hell did he get here with us being unaware?”
“Damn good question, brother.” Prosper snorted out. “Dettinger and Beast have been monitoring the Colombian action in Miami and the Keys. And as far as we know the Aces have been doing a pretty good job of containing that bullshit up to this point. But my gut’s been telling me all along that the cartel has been a little too quiet. Maybe this is why,” Prosper turned to Hezekiah in angry speculation. “What’s your take on this, Hez?”
Jules turned an interested eye to the president of the Aces MC. In the MC world, the Aces were a relatively new club and Hezekiah Jones had risen high in the ranks quickly. Jules did not know him well, but what he did know, he liked. Jones was a tough motherfucker who stepped up when called upon, but could also be counted on to keep a cool head when needed. He had been a heavyweight champion in another life. When one of his punches resulted in the permanent brain damage of an opponent, Jones quit the ring.
“The only thing I can figure is that with my boys keeping things tight in Florida, looks like the Colombians found another way of expanding. With respect—” Hez gave Prosper his full attention. “Your women being at the scene is telling me that the Saints know a lot more about this than the Aces do. And I’m not feeling real good about that. You know as well as I do that this alliance we got is only as good as the trust that comes with it. The Culebras and the mob are making their heroin deal on our turf,” Hez said with emphasis. “Motherfucker was setting us up. Hate to think that the Saints had a heads up on that.”
Prosper looked hard at the president of the Aces and scowled. “Let me make one damn thing clear. Our girls were not there out of any fucking prior knowledge or say so on this club’s account. We don’t use our women to do our dirty work, and they are going to answer to their men and me for shoving their noses in where they don’t belong.” Prosper lashed out in anger and let his words be heard. The he grumbled out reasonably, “You got a woman, Hez?”
Hez snorted in the affirmative.
“Then you know what the fuck I am talking about when I say some of the shit they do—” Prosper shook his head and sighed.
“I hear ya, brother.” Hez commiserated. “Long as it’s understood, going forward anything the Saints know, the Aces know too.”
“Word, brother.” Prosper assured him. Then he turned his attention to Gianni Abruzzi.
“Did Santino have the backing of the family in Nevada to do the heroin deal with the Culebras?”
Gianni sat taller in his chair and his eyes met each man’s at the table.
“I can assure you that the family in Vegas is not a part of what happened here,” Gianni said with surety. “The Cosa Nostra has no interest in brokering a deal with the Colombians. After Vincenzo’s death, the son looked to take over his father’s family. Santino is known to be—let’s call it—unstable—and the reins were passed to the family member next in line. Santino’s cousin, Giuseppe, now heads up the West Coast family and Santino did not take that well. He made some threats before he left Vegas. As a matter of fact, the family has been eager to talk to him for a while. Santino acted on his own in this,” Gianni told them.
Nods all around the table.
“Wonder why they tried to kill him?” Jules looked at the video clip that was paused on the screen.
“Because they found out that he didn’t have the juice behind him that they thought he had. So at that point he became expendable,” Hal broke in.
“How the fuck do you know that?” Jules swiveled his head to look at Hal.
“That guy you called Bautista said it.” Hal kept his eyes trained on the video.
“When?” Prosper growled out.
Hal gave Prosper a quick glance, then volleyed a look to Diego. “Hey, man can you rewind that? Hold. No. Go back. Yeah. Right there. Pause it now.” When Hal got up and stabbed at the screen, the men in the room followed the motion closely.
Sure enough, Bautista said something to Santino just before he got off that first shot but of course the girls were too far away to record any of the conversation.
“You reading his lips?” Diego asked incredulously.
At Diego’s tone, Jules turned and looked to see every man at the table eyeing Hal with respect and maybe a little suspicion. Hal looked back at the group and shrugged.
“It’s something I picked up in special ops. And I’m actually not that good at it. I’m good at video shit like this where I can watch what’s being said over and over again. Syllable by syllable. But in the field there are guys who could read lips in real time. Right on the spot. From fifty feet away,” Hal told them. “They are unbelievable.”
A moment of incredulous silence filled
the room.
“What did he say exactly?” Gianni asked.
“ ‘My Sicilian friends in Vegas tell me you won’t be missed.’ Those were the Colombian’s exact words to Santino before he started shooting,” Hal said.
“Mafankulo!” Gianni spat out. And when he did every man in the room turned to him with an expression of shocked expectation. Because for just a second, it seemed that Gianni was going to shed that perpetual veneer of tight control and composure. But then with a rigid gesture he shot the cuffs of his heavily starched white shirt and straightened the already perfect knot of his imported silk tie. His face was once again a blank mask when he said, “Leave this to me. I’ll find out who these Sicilian friends are that the Colombian claims to have.”
Jules regarded the mobster carefully. He thought begrudgingly and not for the first time that there was something innately confident and authoritative about Gianni Abruzzi. He had it. That unique quality that transcended time and circumstance. There was only one other man that Jules had ever met who exuded such a magnetic force and presence.
And that man was seated at the head of the Hells Saints table.
“I’m gonna put the club on high alert status, but I’m not sure lockdown is the smart way to go.” Prosper got up and paced the floor. “We can get everyone in here and secure the perimeter—that’s not a problem. But that would be tantamount to warning the fuckers that we know what they’re up to. Right now, all they might know is that two women saw them out in that field. Bitches could have been anyone, yeah?”
Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4) Page 17
