Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4)

by Paula Marinaro

  “Yeah, baby, it sucked. I know—I was there.” He gave her a small smile, then he cocked his head at her in apparent confusion. “Hmmm, but I can’t remember.”

  “Can’t remember what?” She looked at him with eyes bright with unshed tears.

  “Is this the first time that you and I have had at it?” Jules asked.

  “Had at it?” Glory echoed.

  “Yeah. Fought. Is this our first argument?” He arched his brow.

  “Our first?” Glory was surprised out of her misery. “No, Jules, we fight all the time.”

  With that Jules stood and with easy strength pulled Glory away from the table. Then he wrapped his big arms around her and held her tight. After a brief attempt at a struggle, Glory surrendered to her most fervent wish and settled into his warm chest.

  When he felt her slim body press against his in capitulation, he whispered against her hair. “We don’t fight all the time, honey. And you can’t run away every time we disagree on something or say stupid hurtful things.” Then he added in a teasing tone, “It’s not what adults do.”

  Glory smiled slightly against chest and muttered. “I never was too interested in being an adult, I guess.”

  Then she pulled away from him and looked him in the eyes with heartfelt sincerity “What I said— about the club. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful for what they have done for me or to be disparaging about something that means so much to you, Jules. I love those boys, you know I do.”

  “I know. I know that, Glory.” He heaved a sigh. “I said some shit that I didn’t mean either. And honestly, I don’t know if there is a way we can sort this out, but I couldn’t leave it like this. I think we’ve done enough of the figuring it out alone bullshit. We have to find a way to settle what this is between us once and for all and either move on together or move forward alone. You down with that?”

  Glory nodded mutely.

  “Before we get into it though, you want to go for a ride? Relax for a while?” He looked at her hopefully, the weariness in his voice now evident. And Glory noticed for the first time how his hand help the cup tightly and how the muscle in his jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. For all his swag, Jules was wound tighter than a drum, and he looked exhausted.

  “A ride?”

  “Yeah, I made arrangements to have a bike waiting for me when I flew in.” Jules shrugged.

  “Of course you did.” Glory shook her head and smiled.

  *****

  Glory held on tight as Jules drove the borrowed Road King through the pretty ribbons of winding roads and the softly rolling hills of the Virginia countryside. The morning sun glinted off the chrome fittings of the bike, stretching its fingers over the land ahead. The meadows on either side of the road were bursting with wildflowers, thick carpets of green grass and blooming dogwood trees. After a few miles, Glory felt the rigid muscles in Jules’s abdomen begin to ease up as he became more familiar with the bike and the road ahead. Glory leaned her cheek against his back, closed her eyes and breathed in the fragrant honeysuckle. They rode for hours, enjoying each other’s company and the feeling of peace and contentment that traveling down an open road can bring. When Jules finally pulled off onto a little out of the way rest area, Glory felt both a measure of disappointment and relief. Her backside was getting sore and she had to pee, but she had so enjoyed the ride and knew that they really couldn’t put off the talk any longer.

  When she got back from her trip to the bathroom, Jules wasn’t at the parked bike, so she followed the little dirt path down the road a bit. When she came to a fork in the lane she let out a soft call to which Jules responded with a hearty whistle. Smiling to herself, Glory continued a few yards along to where the path led open to an open field. To Glory’s delight and amazement, Jules had laid out a blanket and put out some food and drinks that he must have had stored in the saddle bags of the full dresser Harley.

  A picnic.

  Glory clapped her hands together in delight and raised a questioning brow to Jules. He responded with a strange aww shucks grin that looked so out of place on his handsome face that Glory burst out laughing.

  Jules lifted his big shoulders in a shrug. “D brought Raine on a picnic once and we all gave him so much shit about it. But he swears they made Willow that day, and he said that bitches…uh…I mean …women… really dig this shit, so here ya go.”

  Glory remembered that picnic. A bunch of the brothers and their families had been busy helping to clean out the lake house when Diego had come to take Raine out on his bike for the afternoon. She remembered the good natured ribbing Diego had taken from everyone, especially from Reno. Diego had insisted that it wasn’t a picnic and he didn’t do picnics. Glory hadn’t realized that Raine and Diego had made Willow that afternoon, but now that she thought of it, the timing definitely made sense.

  Glory smiled brightly at the memory and said, “Yeah. I remember all the grief the club gave Diego about that. And he is definitely right. Women love picnics!”

  “Well, don’t be too impressed.” Jules shrugged casually, but he looked happy at having pleased her. “It’s nothing fancy. Just some sandwiches, chips, apples, and a couple of sodas. I was gonna get wine but it’s not a good idea to drink when I’m driving a borrowed bike on roads I ain’t too familiar with.” Jules motioned to the blanket somewhat awkwardly. “Have a seat. It’s pretty around here, huh?”

  Glory smiled her agreement and sat down next to him. It was a beautiful spot. A little patch of heaven hidden from view by the boughs of pines, the fringe of sweet smelling cedar and big oak trees lined with moss and vines. Through the covering of trees, the sun dappled on the thick grass and warmed the fragrant fields of wild flowers until their scent hung lightly in the breeze.

  This man is just full of surprises, Glory thought to herself as she ate her sandwich. She was unwilling to break the magic of the afternoon with the talk that was soon to follow. And because she was well aware that the outcome of their conversation may result in her and Jules going their own separate ways, Glory ruminated on the past couple of years.

  Why him?

  What had attracted her to Jules in the first place?

  Had it been the way he had made her feel so very safe from that first fateful meeting?

  Or because he had taken care of her when she was incapable of taking care of herself?

  Had it been his bravery? Or his sense of loyalty?

  Or had she been intrigued by the surprising gentleness she knew the big rough man was capable of.

  Or had it simply been because he was so damn good looking?

  Glory squirmed at thoughts of his naked body—all hard muscle and sinewy strength. Their sexual chemistry was off the charts hot.

  “Babe. If you want to keep your clothes on when we talk about shit, you have got to stop looking at me like that.” His voice rumbled softly, effectively breaking the spell.

  Glory turned her attention to him. She was wide-eyed with embarrassment at the extent to which he seemed to be able to read her lustful thoughts.

  “So, Glory…” Jules began somewhat awkwardly, while he threw her a wary look. Then he got up and began to pace. “It’s like this.”

  He paused and scrubbed a hand over his face. Then Jules drew a long breath. Glory watched in fascination as the big man actually appeared…she searched for the unlikely word….nervous?

  “I love you,” he blurted out.

  Just. Like. That.

  Glory felt her heart stop beating.

  Jules gained speed as he continued, “And not in some half-assed want to get in your pants kind of way either. And it’s not because you’re a challenge, or because I think you need me, or because you’re a fucking fantastic cook or because you are smokin’ hot—which are all true by the way. It’s because when I look at you I see everything I ever wanted in a woman. You’re brave and funny and strong and when I am inside of you I feel whole. This isn’t a game I’m playing here, Glory. I know you think I’m not good with commitment—which
you are dead wrong about, by the way. And I know that you have a whole bunch of ideas going on in your head about the lifestyle I chose. Maybe a future with me is the last thing you’d even consider. Maybe you can’t ever see yourself crossing over the line that brings you to me.”

  “Jules, I—” Glory interrupted softly.

  “Let me finish.” He went on, his voice raspy as though he might be strangling or having trouble breathing. “I know that you’re confused. I see the fear, and indecision in your eyes. And maybe you will never get past that. Maybe asking you to love me—the man I am—just like I am—is too much. And you’ve got to know, that you can’t ask me to choose between you and the club, Glory. Not ever. That’s just a conversation that I’m not willing to have. And it has nothing to do with how much I love you because my heart is just about bursting with everything I feel for you. I couldn’t fucking love you more, you’ve got to know that. But I pledged a vow to those men—my brothers—my family —my tribe. And I won’t go back on that vow. No more than I would go back on a vow I made to you. And that has got to be worth something.” Jules suddenly stopped his pacing and looked at her. “I know that you’re not sure if you can handle all that being my woman means, but baby it ain’t that hard. Just love me and I’ll take care of the rest of it.”

  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.

  Epilogue

  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.”