Chasing Claire (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club)

by Marinaro, Paula

  Great. Just great.

  After a long day on my feet, I was not feeling the love or the patience I would need to referee this new round in their old argument. Besides, I was totally on Glory’s side.

  To everyone’s surprise, Glory’s little venture had taken off big time. Having said that, it had not gone unnoticed by anyone that the rise of Glory’s star could be credited mostly to the mob. Glory’s first big break came from catering Gianni’s niece’s sweet sixteen party and she had gotten several jobs from that one successful gig.

  The boys, Reno included, weren’t thrilled with one of their own women serving the “dago wops” as they called them, but Prosper had decided that there was no harm in it. Prosper also knew, like anyone with any sort of sense would know, that it would be a huge insult to the Italians to refuse the opportunity they had extended in Glory’s direction. As long as things continued to go smoothly, it was all good with the president of the MC.

  But Jules hated the idea.

  Hated it.

  And he had made it very clear to Glory, that as far as he was concerned, Glory’s first job for the Italians would be her last. Glory was frustrated and confused by Jules’s attitude, but I got it. When Jules first met Glory, she had still been shell-shocked. Although it had taken us all a while to recuperate from that horrible day, it had taken Glory the longest. And that was because, while it had been one terrifying day for Raine and me, it had been much longer than that for Glory. Glory had been kidnapped by Gino, the bastard, and survived that and God knew what else. It had taken Glory literally months before she could even drum up the courage or desire to leave the relative safety of the home she had made with us.

  While I would never want to think that Jules preferred Glory to remain a scared little shut-in, even I had to admit that Glory’s unwillingness to leave the house had made it pretty convenient for Jules to make his play. She had never been unavailable to him in all that time, nor had she put her beautiful self out there to be available to anyone else. For a long time now, Jules had had Glory exactly where he wanted her. Under his thumb.

  This new Glory, he wasn’t so sure about.

  I grabbed my stuff and headed toward the war zone, hoping to skip by unnoticed and whisk up the back steps to the bathroom.

  Luck was not on my side.

  “Oh, no, you are fucking not.” Jules’s voice came booming around the corner.

  “Fuck you, I’m not!” Glory yelled at Jules.

  “Calm your ass down, Glory, or I fucking swear . . .”

  “What? You fucking swear what, Jules? You’re not going to stop me from doing this, so don’t even try. As a matter of fact, I have peppers to chop and you’re in my way, so I want you to leave.” Glory waved her new ninety-dollar ceramic chef’s knife in the air. Then, she pointed it toward the door.

  Jules didn’t move.

  Glory stabbed the air with the knife. “Get out!”

  Whoa. Apparently, our beautiful soft-spoken Glory had found her voice.

  It was about time too.

  Because how dare Jules try to stop her from doing something that made her happy?

  And even though I strongly suspected that Jules had the bad luck of being the straw that had finally broken that proverbial camel’s back, Glory’s rage was just about the most beautiful rage that I had ever seen.

  Good for her.

  Glory had put too much into her business to stop just because, as she said, the brothers had a stick up their asses about it. I had to hand it to her. My best friend had taken her love of cooking and baking from an enjoyable pastime to a successful business.

  And she loved it.

  So what if her first big break came from feeding an internationally known mob boss? Everyone had to start somewhere, right?

  And it had to be said, the Italians didn’t mind throwing their money around. I didn’t know what they were into, but they had our boys beat by half. Gianni’s top crew seemed to be rolling in it. Their places were all five-bedroom, five-bath mansions. These houses boasted marble everything, carefully groomed lawns, and alabaster stone fountains. Their wives dressed in Versace, and accessorized in Giuseppe Zanotti. From what I heard, their mistresses or goomahs, as I guess they were called, all had their own apartments.

  The differences between the MC world and the mob world hit us like a cold shower whenever we worked one of those events. Raven-haired, dark-eyed, handsome men in Armani suits kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting. Thick envelopes created an endless parade of offerings at the christenings of their sons and even more at the weddings of their daughters. Each shake of the hand left their palms full of green.

  The Italians wanted only the best. No open pits for the mob. They wanted their pork cut into thin tender strips steeped in marinara sauce, their tables laden with fresh fruit and the best cheeses, their table wine served in thick crystal goblets.

  Glory joked, “Give them cheese, garlic, and olive oil, and they will come.”

  She was not wrong.

  Gianni paid well. Strangely enough, some of his crew paid even better. The girls and I had talked about it, and we had noticed Gianni was never far away when we were getting our very own envelopes of cash. We all had the feeling that he had, as they say, put the squeeze on his boys to make sure that they paid us well. They always added at least half to the fee that Glory charged. Because of that and a host of other reasons, Dolly and I helped Glory out with the parties as often as we could, and even I enjoyed working them.

  I loved our boys. I did. The Saints were all big and gorgeous in that bad boy kind of way—muscled, tattooed, and born to be wild. Every woman knew that draw, felt that pull, at least once in her life. Every good girl dreamed of being loved at least once by an outlaw man. Every bad girl lived for it. Rugged, surly, dangerous outlaws in leather taking what they wanted and riding with thunder between their legs.

  A lot could be said about the good ol’ red-blooded American male.

  But the Italians wove a pretty hot man-web of their own.

  Just as big. Just as muscled. Just as dangerous.

  But instead of custom Harleys, they drove sleek black Cadillacs. Instead of hand-stitched leathers and silver skulls, they wore custom-made suits and eighteen-karat gold rings. Best of all, they spoke a different language.

  Yeah, the Italians definitely cast their own spell.

  They appreciated good-tasting food, good-looking women, and they liked to throw their money around.

  Nothing wrong with that, Glory had said. More than once.

  Glory moved quickly past me with Jules hot on her heels.

  “Hey, Claire,” she managed as she walked by.

  Jules looked at me and snarled.

  Nice.

  “Get back here and sit the fuck down, Glory. I am not leaving this house until we have talked this food fucking serving shit out.” Jules crossed his huge arms over his chest, ready to do battle.

  “Food fucking serving shit? Food fucking serving shit? Are you referring to my business?”

  “Babe, throwing together a couple of cupcakes, whipping up some goddamn Rice-A-Roni, and serving it to some fucking mobsters who are downing it, while staring at your tits, is not a business.”

  Glory’s blue eyes narrowed and glinted like ice.

  “You big, dumb moron. How dare you? How dare you? You wouldn’t know good food if it bit you in your ass! Rice-A-Roni? Did you just call my creamy wild mushroom risotto, my signature dish, Rice-A-Roni?”

  “Yeah, I said it.” Jules stood his ground and roared even louder than before. “And I don’t care if you are serving solid gold goose shit under goddamn crystal domes. My woman is not going to be serving anything to some oily-haired, dago wops. I mean it, Glory. The boys don’t like it and neither do I.”

  “Oh really? Really, Jules? You and your boys don’t like how I make my money? Well, guess what? I don’t give two shits what you and your boys like. Last time I looked, you and your boys weren’t exactly standing in line to pay my
bills.”

  She had a point.

  “And what was that? Your woman? Am I your woman, now, Jules?” Glory swung around and advanced toward him.

  Jules looked suddenly unsure of himself, and took a step back.

  “And what exactly makes me your woman? The fact that we have been doing it for over a year now? Is that it? Is that what makes me your woman?”

  “Doing it?” Jules still looked confused. “Yeah, if by doing it you mean me taking you to my bed, then yeah. I would say that, yeah, that makes you my woman.”

  “Yeah, well lucky me,” Glory hissed.

  Uh-oh.

  Jules arched an eyebrow. “That ain’t enough for you, woman? Because I sure as hell don’t remember you ever complaining. I remember a lot of moaning and groaning and you screaming out my name loud enough to wake every brother from here to Texas, but complaining? Nah, don’t recall any of that.” He stood in front of her with a self-satisfied grin and his big arms crossed in front of him.

  Glory narrowed her eyes.

  I thought that would be a very good time to get the hell out of there and into that tub. I had just started toward the door when I saw Glory hold up her hand and waggle her ring finger in Jules’s face.

  Oh, boy.

  “Do you see a ring on this finger?” Glory growled at him. “No? Well, neither do I, and where I come from, when a woman belongs to a man, she has his ring on her finger!”

  “A ring? Is that what you want? You want to get married, Glory?” Jules roared back. “Love, honor, and obey? You ready for that, baby? Because it sure as hell does not look like it.”

  Jules could roar all he wanted.

  He could stomp and yell and pace.

  But there was no covering it up.

  When Glory had flung that ring finger in his face, he’d turned an immediate and unmistakable ghostly shade of pale despite his bluster. A sheen of sweat appeared instantly on his forehead. If Glory had suddenly sprouted wings and flew over the guy’s head, he could not have looked more stunned.

  Glory did not miss that. “Did I ever say that, Jules? Have I even once said that I wanted to get married? Did you ever, ever hear me even mention the word?”

  Then she moved toward him and pushed one long elegant finger into the leather-covered steel that was his chest.

  “No, you haven’t. Because if I did, if I ever wanted to get married, why would I want to marry a gigantic ass like you, who does not know a good thing when he has it?”

  Jules looked down at that finger. Even I could see that Glory meant business.

  “Baby, I know a good thing. Course I do,” Jules growled. “And if you need green, you know that I got you covered. Whatever you need, baby. You know, I got you.”

  Way to try and save it, Jules. I cheered to myself, until he added the next bit . . .

  “But, Jesus, Glory, you ain’t serious about that marriage shit, are you? You are not standing there telling me that you want to get . . . uh . . .” Jules scrubbed his hand over his face and looked totally ill at ease.

  Jules’s confusion just seemed to add fuel to Glory’s fire. I had never seen anything even close to this side of her, and despite the awkwardness of the situation, I had to admit I was totally fascinated.

  “Oh, just forget it, Jules. Why would I want to marry a man who I had to tell that I wanted to get married? A man who is too damn stupid to think of it on his own is no one, no one I would even consider marrying. Ever!” Glory turned to walk away.

  “Woman, what the fuck are you talking about?” Jules followed her. “Damn woman, how the hell did we get from your goddamn signature dish to me putting a ring on your finger? Where is this coming from?” He looked so confused, I almost felt sorry for him.

  Then Jules arched one perfectly formed blond eyebrow and said, “Babe, you on the rag?”

  He ducked just in time.

  “Woman, you throw one more of those dishes at . . .”

  Glory kept on throwing things at him until Jules was out the door.

  When he was gone, she snapped the lock noisily behind him.

  My best friend leaned against the door and took a minute to pull herself together.

  Then she looked at me. And I knew, I just knew, that she was going to ask me if I thought Jules was the marrying kind.

  I had no idea what I should say to her. Because while I didn’t want to hurt my friend, I really did not think Jules had the first idea of what it took to be that guy.

  “Can I ask you something and will you answer me truthfully?” My girl’s light blue eyes looked sunken in her pale face. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  I moved to place my arm around her and whispered, “Of course.”

  She turned to me, one teardrop spilling over onto her smooth cheek. She sighed and put her head on my shoulder. “My whole future depends on this, Claire. So please, please tell me what you really think.”

  Oh, boy. I prepared a careful answer in my head.

  “My creamy wild mushroom risotto . . .” Glory’s lips trembled.

  Her creamy wild mushroom risotto?

  “Do you think Jules was right? Do you think it tastes like Rice-A-Roni?” Glory sputtered those last words out like she was trying to rid poison from her blood stream.

  I heaved a sigh of relief. This question I could answer with one hundred percent honesty.

  “Not even close, honey,” I answered and hugged her tight.

  CHAPTER 26

  By the time I got back from class at midday, Glory was home putting on the final touches for the catering job that she had booked for tomorrow. The screen door was wedged open and I could hear Bono singing through the open windows. As I walked toward the house, the mouth-watering scent of perfectly seasoned sausage, onions, and peppers wafted through the air.

  I glanced at my phone to find a text from Reno. He and the rest of the brothers had been home about a week now. Since their return the air had been charged with tension. The rumble of exhaust pipes had been echoing through the compound for days. Chief officers from the surrounding chapters been called in for a meet, and it was safe to assume that whatever business was keeping the outlaw men behind closed doors was risky, dangerous, and illegal.

  It wasn’t the first time I had felt that wave of secrecy and surge of violent urgency wash over the compound. It all came with the territory. Raine had learned to navigate these times, but I knew they scared her just as they scared me. I knew that Reno expected the same of me. I just didn’t know if I could do it. Or if I even wanted to. A part of me still yearned for that normal everyday kind of life.

  The kind of life that I knew loving a man like Reno could not provide.

  Sometimes I felt like he and I were just a big puzzle to be solved and every time I got close to solving it, I discovered a new piece that just didn’t seem to quite fit.

  I sighed and turned my attention to my roommate. I stood in the doorway for a minute and watched Glory work her magic. I had to hand it to her, it had been a few weeks now since that scene with Jules and undeterred by his ultimatum, our girl had cut her losses and moved on. While I knew that letting go wasn’t easy for her, I was once again impressed by Glory’s strong will and strength of character. At times it even made me a little envious. While Glory was enjoying enormous success with her business, I was still struggling with my course work. While Glory was busy getting on with the Life After Jules, I was still busy figuring out Reno and me.

  Standing in the doorway watching her now, I thought for the millionth time that I could learn a lot from Glory.

  Besides, Glory in the kitchen was a thing of beauty. Blond hair flying, blue eyes flashing, and long limbs swinging, Glory was like a one-man band. Only instead of crashing the cymbals, beating the drums, and humming into a harmonica, Glory got her groove on by stirring, melting, and sifting.

  My best buddy was feeling the happy. Most days. Most days Glory was feeling the happy.

  But as always in life, at least in our lives, everything was a
tradeoff. Every grain of happiness had its price.

  That last huge disagreement between Glory and Jules turned out to be the last huge disagreement between Glory and Jules.

  Reno had heard from Jules that things had gone bad between him and Glory. And even though I had been careful not to divulge any of the particulars Glory shared with me, Reno knew how deep our friendship went. He took as much of my ranting and worrying as he could before he said, “Babe, if it don’t involve me or you, I honestly don’t give two shits about it. Now get your sweet self over here and I will show you exactly what I do care about.”

  I stopped talking about Glory and Jules as much after that, but I never stopped fretting. I hoped for a happy outcome. Glory seemed content to wait it out, and I thought that might be a good sign. Then Jules did something really stupid.

  In a very poorly played, typical Hells Saints fashion, Jules started to pay a lot of attention to Bambi. Bambi was a twenty-five-year-old club whore with bottle-blond hair, skinny legs, huge tits, and eager eyes, and her only ambition was to snag a brother.

  The first time Glory saw them together, Jules had stared hard at her. His eyes issued a challenge, his body language smugly signaled his ultimatum.

  Glory took one look at Bambi pulled tight to her man’s side, and decided to let him go for good.

  When she turned and walked out that door, there was such a look of utter disbelief on Jules’s face that I almost felt sorry for him.

  Almost.

  But mostly, I felt sorry for Glory, because I knew just what turning away from the man that she loved had cost her. I knew because in the days that followed, Glory reverted back to a lesser version of herself. I knew standing her ground wasn’t easy for her. Glory gave herself a few weeks after the final blow to learn how to live without him.

  Then she rallied, like I knew she would, and bravely kept on keeping on.

  My girl had this.

  And we had her back.

  CHAPTER 27

  It had been a long night, but another smash hit for Glory Days Catering. The booking had been the wedding of Julio “Little Finger” Pagnatellio and Antonia Baccalaria, the daughter of Anthony Baccalaria, a well-known, high-profile attorney and reported consigliere for the Bonzini family. Raine, Glory, and I were all in a great mood.