Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4)

  Saving

  Glory

  HELLS SAINTS MOTORCYCLE CLUB

  Paula Marinaro

  Also By Paula Marinaro

  Raine Falling

  Chasing Claire

  Taming Crow

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2016 Paula Marinaro

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by Dawn Brundige

  Dedicated to everyone who was lucky enough to have a second chance at love.

  And was brave enough to take it.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Welcome to the bank for broke people, Glory thought to herself as she pushed against the steel security bars that would open the door to the Quick Cash Pawn Shop on Rossville Boulevard.

  Carefully cradled in her hands was the 21.4-megapixel Nikon that she had bought with the first big paycheck of her catering business. Glory had used the expensive camera to take advertising shots. And even though, for over a year now, its only purpose had been to provide her with a sad reminder of the past, she had saved the delicate instrument as the very last thing of value to be parted with.

  “You planning on moving up or what?” Glory heard the heavy rasp of a long time smoker. She looked over her shoulder to find a rumpled woman in line who appeared to be in her late sixties. A diamond-clasped string of opera length pearls threaded through the woman’s dirty fingers while a razor sharp desperation blazed in her eyes. Glory knew from experience that the jewels would be worth much less than the woman hoped to get for them. As she took in the woman’s threadbare coat and watched the way her hand shook as she clutched that necklace, Glory thought with sadness that addiction did not age discriminate. She knew that the woman was going to have a long painful night ahead of her without enough for her next fix. Glory bit back the snarky retort that sat ready on her lips and instead murmured an apology. Then she took another step up in line and braced herself for the disappointment that was sure to follow her own transaction. Because she was afraid that she probably wasn’t going to score much better for her Nikon than the senior-citizen junkie was going to score for those pearls. She glanced at the line ahead of her, looked down at the camera in her hand and wished for the hundredth time that she owned a gun.

  Because unlike flashy jewelry and fancy cameras, guns held their value.

  “Our business is built on repeat business." That was Fast Eddie’s motto.

  Especially when it came to firearms.

  After months and months of selling off everything that was of any worth in order to pay the never ending pile of bills, Glory had become well-schooled in the art of pawn shop bartering.

  A customer could bring in a handgun, get a $200 dollar secured loan to pay off a debt and then buy the weapon back for about $240 bucks the next month when their check came in.

  She had also learned that, in the case of firearms you could do this as many times as you wanted, every month if you wanted, pawning and redeeming that same weapon over and over again without ever having to worry about depreciation factoring into the transaction.

  Yeah, Glory sure wished she owned a gun.

  “Hey, doll. Thought you were picking your brother up today? Everything okay over at Reed?” The guy behind the counter motioned for her to step up. With his thick neck, crooked nose and squinty eyes, Mack had the look of an old boxer whose last fight had ended badly. But underneath all that rough and ready, Glory had learned that the aging clerk had a heart of gold.

  “Hi, Mack. Yeah, everything’s great. Small delay that’s all. Just a little infection that needed clearing up. But Hal will be out soon. Better safe than sorry!” Glory adopted the cheery tone she had honed down to a science. Now she coupled it with a winning smile.

  “Couldn’t agree more. I’m sure he’ll be back on his feet in no time.” Mack winked at her. But when he did, Glory did not miss the look of pity that flashed across his lined face.

  It was a look that she had seen often on others and had grown to hate.

  Because of all the things that Glory felt for her brother and his comrades in the military hospital—pity was not one of them.

  Those brave men and women had earned her respect, compassion, and undying gratitude. No matter how great their sacrifice, Glory thought that to look upon them with pity would be to diminish their courage and honor. So now she lifted her chin slightly while her eyes flashed with pride and determination.

  “Thanks for thinking of him, Mack. It really is just a small setback.”

  Then she nodded to the camera to signal the end of the conversation.

  "You got the lenses to go with?” His tone turned all business.

  “Sure do. Charger and cord too.” Glory reached into her bag and put the items on the glass counter.

  “Memory card?” As the shop-clerk turned the item over in his large hand, the heavy gold bracelet that circled his wrist glinted under the fluorescent lights.

  “Still in it.” Glory pointed to the slot. “I made sure to delete everything on it and I took the time to charge the camera before I left home today.”

  Mack nodded. “Okay, doll. Be back in a minute. I’m just going to take this in the office and check it out.”

  As Glory began her now familiar stroll around the large and well-lit showroom, she realized she would miss these excursions. Despite the desperation that made these trips necessary, she liked coming to the store. Part of that was because of Mack and the easy rapport they had developed over the last few months.

  The other part was because the store itself fascinated her.

  As Glory found at her first visit, the busy pawn shop was not piled high with the dusty out-of-date electronics and weapons of questionable origin that she had expected to find. Instead it appeared to be a department store. Jewelry on the left, guitars on the right, electronics straight ahead. There was also a large section of the shop that was filled with interesting and timeless curios. Glory loved that part most of all. She really enjoyed looking at all the unique objects and imagining the stories that went with them.

  Her absolute favorite was the glass case that boasted a sign that read Charles Shultz Peanuts Character Memorabilia. From the time that she was a little girl and had discovered The Great P
umpkin on television, Glory had adored the cast of little friends. Charlie Brown, Sally, Snoopy, Woodstock and the rest of the gang with their funny adventures and hard won life lessons had always held a heartfelt fascination for her.

  There, in the gleaming case among the lunch boxes, ceramic banks, and small porcelain collectibles sat her very favorite item. It was a framed yellowed comic strip that dated back to May of 1966. It was one of the few strips that Glory had ever seen that made reference to the fact that perhaps the unrequited love that Lucy feels for Schroeder was not so hopeless after all. In the strip, Lucy has moved away from him and Schroeder suddenly realizes that despite all of her faults and flaws, Lucy has become his muse and he can no longer play the piano without her.

  “Ready, doll?” Mack’s voice pulled Glory out of her reverie.

  She ran a finger once over the shiny glass case and sent a silent thank you and fond farewell to the little characters in the small rectangular paper comic. She thanked them for the comfort and the hope that Schroeder’s little epiphany had given her.

  Then with determination, Glory marched over to the counter to begin bartering.

  “Pawn or sell?” Mack began the now familiar drill.

  “Sell,” Glory answered without hesitation

  “What’s it worth to you?” Mack shot out.

  “What’s it worth to you?”

  “Two hundred is the best I can do.”

  “Two hundred bucks, Mack? It’s practically brand new. You know you can do better than that.” Glory kept her voice steady, but felt her heart sink. Even though, from experience, she knew that she would be able to bargain slightly up, the initial offer was much less than she had expected.

  “You got the receipt?” Mack countered.

  “Well… no.” Glory wrinkled her nose.

  “Warranty?”

  Glory shook her head.

  “Probably no good even asking if you have the original packaging?” He threw her a hopeful look.

  “Come on, Mack. Who keeps the original packaging? It’s a great camera. A DSLR. And there are three lenses that come with.” Glory fought to keep the desperation out of her voice as she emphasized, “It’s a great camera.”

  “You get no argument from me there, doll. But I’ve got two more just like it.” Mack waved his hand toward a shelf in the back of the store.

  Glory tried to quell the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she turned in the direction he had pointed.

  Because Mack was right, he had two more just like it. And both were displayed in the original packaging.

  Glory slumped her shoulders slightly in capitulation as she realized that Mack was doing her a favor by offering her the two hundred bucks.

  “Okay, I’ll guess if that’s the best you can do, I’ll take it,” she said in defeat.

  He gave her a brief hard look and mumbled something under his breath.

  “Guess the additional lenses are worth somethin’—three hundred is my last offer.”

  She glanced up at him in surprise. Glory felt tears of gratitude build up behind her eyes as she swallowed hard around the lump in her throat.

  “Mack… thank you.” She impulsively laid her hand over his gnarled aged one.

  He responded to her touch with a small squeeze of his own before he said, “Four hundred bucks and not a dime more.”

  Glory widened her eyes in surprise. “Mack, you don’t have to—”

  “So we got a deal or not? Because I’ve got a damn business to run.” He bent his head to the receipt book on the counter.

  “We got a deal!” Glory bounced on her heels and had to stop herself from clapping out loud.

  Mack scribbled a few figures on the note pad, then handed her the ticket. “Go in the back and have Terry write you up. He gives you any shit about the price, you tell him to call down to me.”

  With a grateful smile, Glory snatched the receipt out of Mack’s hand. Then she leaned across the counter and planted a quick kiss on his wrinkled cheek.

  “Thank you, Mack. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through all these months without you,” she said with heartfelt sincerity.

  “No need to get all sentimental on me, doll. Now get the hell outta here,” Mack retorted with his usual gruffness. “You make sure you take care of yourself and that brother of yours.”

  Glory hurried to the back of the store to seal the deal with Terry before Mack had a chance to change his mind.

  Chapter 2

  Armed with the optimism that a few extra dollars could buy, Glory decided to stop at the Shop-and-Save on the way home and treat herself to a pound of the good coffee, real cream, and a container of that fruited steel cut oatmeal that she had been dying to try.

  “Hey, Glory.” The pretty check-out clerk flashed Glory a welcoming smile.

  “Hi, Annie.” Glory smiled back.

  Annie lived in the apartment across from Glory’s. After bumping into each other in the narrow hallway and commiserating in the dank basement laundry room a few times, the two woman had struck up a friendship.

  With three children, two jobs and no man, Annie’s life was not an easy one, yet the young mother seemed to meet each day with a smile and sense of sanguinity that Glory admired. That Annie could maintain that cheerful outlook despite the fact that Glory had seen Mr. Taylor, the landlord, slip the same you are late with your rent notice under Annie’s door as he did under her own, pretty much sealed the friendship as far as Glory was concerned.

  As she pushed the button to start the automatic conveyer belt, Annie inclined her head to the package of premium coffee.

  “Wow! Dark Roast in the gold bag! I know where I will be having my morning cup from now on. That will be twenty dollars please, Miss Fancy Pants!” Annie read the register display with her usual good humor. Then she leaned in over the counter and whispered conspiratorially, “I saw Mr. Taylor’s car pulling up to the building when I left for work.”

  Glory grimaced and glanced through the automatic doors to the parking lot outside. The meeting with Hal’s doctors had gone on longer than she had intended. The added stops at the pawn shop and the grocery store meant that she was headed home much later than she had planned. And while the apartment complex wasn’t far, a sleeting rain had begun to fall and it would soon be dark. She couldn’t delay any longer, but she couldn’t risk running into the landlord either.

  “Goddamn it.” Glory blew out a long frustrated breath.

  “No worries. Silver lining.” Annie paused from loading the groceries in the bag and smiled her reassurance. “My nephew Cole came over to watch the game last night and in between eating all my food and drinking all my soda, he jimmied the lock to the back door for me. Now that the elevator is broken, I’ll be damned if I am going to walk into that building from the front and haul three kids up all those stairs every day. At least coming in from the back eliminates those two extra flights.”

  “Cole jimmied the lock? Isn’t he like twelve years old or something?” Glory’s tone was both incredulous—and she felt a certain shame in admitting it—filled with gratitude.

  “Thirteen next month.” Annie smirked. “But Cole is my half-sister’s kid and that side of the family—well, let’s just leave it at black sheep. I think you better hurry, though, if you don’t want to run into the old bastard in the hallway. He had a stack of papers with him, so he’s probably going to be in his office for a few hours. No sense trying to wait him out, I doubt he’ll be leaving anytime soon. I think your best bet is just to sneak in the back and try to get up those stairs as fast as you can.”

  At her friend’s words of warning, Glory glanced at the clock hanging over the floral section of the store. The small area was filled with riots of rich blossoms gathered in colorful vases. Bright yellow balloons danced like sunshine through the air. The comforting aroma of freshly baked goods and aromatic Arabic coffee beans wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

  And suddenly there it was again.

 
; That ache that Glory couldn’t quite seem to totally quell.

  Even after all this time and circumstance.

  And before she could stop it and without any warning, Glory was suddenly transported back there again. To a place of delicious smells, good friends, bright flowers and endless sunny days. A place where, for a brief time, she had been safe and happy.

  So much had happened.

  So much had changed.

  How long had it been since those days at the lake house with Glory and Raine? She wasn’t even sure anymore. A year? Maybe more. Time had stopped existing for her as it once had. The minutes, the hours, the days were all marked by Glory’s brother’s tenuous hold on life.

  Those first agonizing weeks at the military hospital in Germany where Hal lay lost between the worlds of the living and the dead were still nothing more than a blur to her. But while the specifics remained fuzzy, Glory would never forget the cold fear that had wrapped around her heart as she had listened to the doctor warn her against optimism. She knew that, considering the force of the blast, it had been a miracle that her brother had lived through the bombing at all.

  Glory had been so grateful that Hal had defied the perilous odds stacked against him that she did not realize that her brother’s fight for survival had only barely begun. Because once he was stabilized and assessed at the trauma hospital, Hal had been transferred to Walter Reed.

  And that’s when the fight for life really started—the long months spent waiting for Hal’s broken body to get strong enough for the next painful step towards recovery.

  And the step after that.

  And the step after that.

  After his first dozen or so surgeries they all began to blur.

  Despite her resolve, the setbacks, the triumphs, the constant never-ending struggle to stay hopeful all blended together to push Glory beyond her endurance.

  Sometimes she feared that she might be going crazy. She was afraid that her recollections of the pretty house by the lake and the friendships she had made there were no more than make-believe.