Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4) Page 5

  The more things change, the more they remain the same.

  Over the past week or so Glory had gone through a myriad of emotions. At times it felt like she had never really left the cozy confines of the pretty cabin. At other times it felt like it had been a lifetime since she had breathed in that cool fresh air and had fallen asleep to the soft lap of water against the dock.

  When the loud grunts of Hal’s weight lifting sounded out from the gym room and filled the comfortable silence, the three friends swung their eyes to the closed door of the new addition. “How’s he doing?” Claire lowered her voice and leaned in.

  “Who? Hal? I think he’s okay,” Glory answered hesitantly. “But the truth is, I don’t really know. He seems to be settling in. That gym has been a godsend. He spends all of his time in that room or doing laps in the lake. Yesterday, he went for kind of a walk/run. Which is really incredible, considering.”

  “It’s good that he’s taking such an aggressive approach towards his recovery.” Raine adopted a nurse-like tone.

  A dark shadow passed over Glory’s face. “Yeah, it would seem so. But honestly, I think he’s just trying to exhaust himself. Wear himself out. I still hear him at night sometimes, pacing the floor.”

  “Give him time, honey. These things take a while.” With kindness, Raine reached out to pat Glory’s hand. Glory gave her a tentative smile, then she stood abruptly and went over to the kitchen counter. She put a bakery box down in front of the girls.

  “I almost forgot these.” Glory began to put the goodies on a plate.

  At the sight of the obviously store bought pastries, Raine raised an eyebrow and threw a glance towards Claire. Glory did not miss the look that passed between the two sisters.

  “What?” Glory put a hand on her hip.

  “Nothing,” Raine squeaked while she took a scone and shoved it into her mouth. “These are great.” Her voice grew muffled with bites of blueberry.

  “They look yummy!” Claire burst out in agreement.

  Glory looked down at the box filled with the store bought confections. Then she murmured, “I just can’t make myself do it.”

  The girls exchanged another a brief look.

  “Do what, honey?” Raine made her eyes wide and her tone innocent.

  “Oh, cut it out.” Glory looked at the two women in honest exasperation. “Because you know that I know exactly what you’re both thinking. You’re thinking that there was a time when I would rather cut myself with a cleaver than serve up anything but homemade in this kitchen.”

  Glory waited for the confession. Raine sputtered and stammered in protest, but as usual Claire had no such compunction.

  “Well, yeah. Of course that’s what we’re thinking,” Claire admitted with a rueful grin. “I mean you really rocked the whole catering thing. I guess everyone kind of expected you’d fall right back into it.”

  “Everyone?” Glory emphasized.

  “Well, by everyone, I think Claire means herself,” Raine hurriedly interjected, then gave Claire a warning frown.

  Claire raised her shoulder in a small shrug.

  “I just can’t seem to do it. I just can’t seem to get back in the kitchen.” Glory’s shoulders slumped a little as she capitulated with a long sigh. “I do miss it, though. There is something just so innately good about baking bread. You know? It used to give me such a kick to see the dough rise into a perfect dome or the crust of a pie turn that perfect golden brown. When I was going through the worst of it with Hal, I swear those memories of Glory Daze Catering kept me sane.”

  “You know you should talk to Dolly. She and Gianni are starting that bakery. The opening is soon, you got the invite right?” At Glory’s nod, Claire continued with enthusiasm. “When you’re ready, you might want to think about giving her a hand. I know she’d love to have you be a part of it.”

  “So Glory and Gianni are like a thing?” Glory used the opportunity to steer the conversation away from herself.

  Claire muttered under her breath with a smirk. “Boy, are they ever.”

  Raine swatted at her sister playfully. But before Glory could ask anything more on the subject of Dolly and Gianni, the door to the gym room squeaked open and Hal’s big form filled the threshold. As was his habit, his eyes did a thorough scan of the room before entering it. When he saw the girls sitting there in the living room, he froze for a moment.

  “Hey, Hal,” the women called out.

  Hal lifted his chin slightly in greeting, but Glory noticed that he angled his neck so that he presented the girls with the right side of his face. The side that was not scarred and burned. The side where his beautiful blue eye did not droop and the edge of his mouth did not twist. The side where his smooth skin was not peppered by the black craters of shrapnel.

  The good side.

  Then he walked past them without saying a word and went right to the refrigerator where he grabbed a carton of orange juice and walked out to the door. When Hal had safely passed by the open windows and was out of earshot, Claire and Raine shot out their questions with well-meaning, but barely contained, curiosity.

  Questions that Glory answered easily.

  Just fine.

  Just great.

  Better every day.

  Chapter 9

  “Hey, big brother.” Glory took a sip of her morning coffee and smiled out a greeting as Hal entered the kitchen. She was surprised to see him dressed and showered. Usually he was in the midst of his workout routine at this time of day.

  “You want?” She raised the cup in her hand and gestured to the coffee pot.

  “Nah, I’m good.” Hal walked over to the hook hanging on the wall and lifted the car key off the ring.

  “You’re taking the car?” Surprise flittered across her face.

  “Yeah. I’m going out,” Hal told her.

  “Out?” Glory stopped the cup midway to her mouth.

  “Yeah. I need some shampoo and shower shit. Getting kind of sick of take-out, too. Thought I’d stop at the market. Pick up some steak and burgers to throw on the grill.” His tone was casual, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for Hal to take the car out for errands when he had been living in self-imposed isolation for weeks.

  “Okay just let me get some shoes on." Glory walked over to the closet.

  “Stay where you are, little sister. I got this.”

  “You got this?” Glory looked bewildered.

  “Yeah. My face might look like shit, but the brain is still working.” Hal knocked on his head with an exaggerated gesture and smirked at her. “Might get this buzzed too. This hair is making me sweat like a sonofabitch when I’m working out.” Hal scrubbed a hand over his scalp.

  “So you’re taking the car and going shopping for food and shaving stuff then maybe going to get a haircut?” Glory frowned. The thought of her brother venturing out on his own surprised and unnerved her. “And you want me to stay home?”

  “No.” A tone of exasperated impatience rang out in Hal’s voice. Then he said with emphasis. “I don’t want you to stay home. I want you to go out. But you never do, so now to get away from all your hovering, I’m gonna go out. Alone.”

  At the hurt expression on his sister's face, Hal sighed loudly and said with more grace. “Glory, I’m okay. Things are gonna take a while for me to figure out, but it ain’t gonna happen any faster with you spying on me and watching over my every move.”

  “I am not spying.”

  “Little sister, you spy any harder, I’m gonna have to go out and buy you a goddamn trench coat,” Hal said with just a trace of humor.

  “Very funny,” Glory muttered.

  “No. Glory it isn’t. Seriously, you gotta give it a break.” Hal narrowed his eyes at her. “It might take a while—but like I said—I got this. I’m on my way back. It’s okay. I’m okay. But what I want to know is—are you?”

  “Am I what?” she asked, puzzled.

  “Okay? Are you okay?” he repeated.

  “Me?” Glo
ry looked at her brother warily. “Of course I am, I’m—”

  “I know. You’re perfect, just great, better all the time.” Hal’s tone mocked her.

  Glory raised an insulted eyebrow.

  “I pay attention, little sister. Those words have been coming outta your mouth for a long time now. Too long. And after the hell you’ve been through, we both know that just ain’t true. I’m working on finding my way back, and you’ve got to do the same.” He looked at her long and hard.

  “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.” Glory shook her head. And when her brother crossed his arms and waited, she felt her heart sink in dismay and her face redden in embarrassment. She thought that she had done a great job of hiding her feelings. Feelings that she wasn’t ready to face herself, let alone discuss them. But now her brother seemed hell bent on calling her out.

  “Really?” Hal clearly knew that look. “You gonna make me say it?”

  Glory fought the sudden urge to cover his mouth in duct tape.

  He snorted out and threw up his hands. “Maybe I got a fucked up eye, but I can still see, and my hearing is as sharp as shit. So I’m not missing that every time a bike roars past here, you hold your breath until it’s gone by. Or the fact that in the few damn times we’ve gone out, you drive five miles out of your way to avoid the entrance to the Saints compound. You don’t cook anymore, even though you’ve got a state of the art kitchen right here in front of you. You sleep less than I do. I know what’s haunting me. But what I want to know, little sister, is what the fuck is haunting you?”

  When Glory placed a small hand on her hip, lifted her chin and stayed resolutely silent, Hal muttered angrily underneath his breath, walked across the kitchen and slammed the door behind him.

  *****

  Well, that’s gratitude for you, was Glory’s first thought was she heard the engine of the old car sputter then roar to life.

  A flash of pain drummed into Glory’s temples and her hand shook slightly as she reached for the pot and poured herself another cup of the hot, strong coffee. Then she pulled open the cabinet below the sink and poured a healthy shot of whiskey into the mug.

  Hovering. He made her sound like one of those damn helicopter moms. And that was totally unfair.

  She did not hover.

  She—uh—well, she wasn’t sure what she did, but it was not hovering, or spying.

  It was more along the lines of—a jumble of verbs ran through her head before she settled on hiding. Glory grimaced as she conceded the painful truth to herself. She would be damned if she would admit it to Hal, but she knew the truth when it bit her on the nose, she had been hiding.

  From Jules.

  The fact of it was that her brother’s isolation had really not been self-imposed at all. She had been keeping Hal hostage at the lake house with her because she couldn’t face a chance run in with him. The confused emotions that rose up whenever she thought of Jules were making her a prisoner of their own design and she honestly had no idea how to set herself free.

  There was absolutely nothing she wanted more than to see Jules Bonny.

  And there was absolutely nothing she wanted less.

  Glory knew that it was only a matter of time before she ran into him, but she was absolutely doing her best to make sure that it didn’t happen until she was ready. The way she looked at it, that first meeting with him would set the tone for the rest.

  She just had not figured out when the right moment would be.

  So she was going to bide her time at home until she felt ready to face the emotions that seeing him again would unveil.

  Unless he had changed dramatically, Jules was and probably always would be a creature of habit. Glory had learned early on that Jules could be intractable to a fault and that included his weekly routine.

  He was a wash your clothes on Monday, pay your bills on Tuesday, buy your groceries on Wednesday kind of guy. He stopped at the same coffee shop every Friday morning for his weekly quarter pound of dark roast, and at the little butcher shop on the corner of West and Williams to stock up on cold cuts for the brothers’ Saturday meeting.

  Glory figured if she could avoid the compound and his regular haunts in town long enough, when they finally did run into each other it would be less awkward. She realized it was probably faulty reasoning on her part. But it gave her a small measure of comfort to think that her readjustment to life in Crownsmount would not have to be made more complex by a chance meeting in with her former—whatever he was.

  Whatever he was? Glory pondered for a moment. The easy answer to a very complex question would be that Jules Bonny was the most infuriating and complicated man she had ever met in her life.

  If life was at all fair, Jules would look exactly what Glory knew him to be. A stiff, unyielding man whose ideas concerning a women’s role dated back to the 1950s. He should be sporting a three piece suit, wing-tipped shoes and a dab of Brylcreem in his slicked back hair. He should be greeted after work by a wife, wearing an apron over her shirtwaist dress, holding a martini in one hand and his pipe and slippers in the other.

  If life was fair at all, a man like Jules Bonny should come with a warning for an independent minded woman like Glory Thomas.

  He should not be tall or muscle bound. He should not be sporting lots of black ink on his strong arms, leather coverings on his muscular thighs or long blond hair that just screamed Viking god. He should not be an officer in an outlaw motorcycle club. One with international criminal affiliations.

  He should not be her perfect—absolutely perfect—counterpart in bed.

  But to be fair, Jules never tried to hide who he was from Glory. He was a strong man with strong opinions who spoke his mind. As a matter of fact, the more ridiculous and oppositional his views of the world were, the louder he liked to voice them. In short, Jules loved nothing better than a good argument, a good time in bed and a good meal.

  And at one time Glory had been happy to provide him with all three.

  It was all good between them.

  Until it wasn’t.

  *****

  Jules was just finishing up polishing up the chrome on his bike when he heard the loud knocking of a car engine that needed servicing. He turned to see a small Toyota wheezing up the hill to the compound.

  He recognized the car as the old beater that had pretty much done nothing but sit in the driveway of the lake house for the past couple of weeks. Not that Jules had gone out of his way to check on Glory's comings and goings. It wasn’t like that at all.

  Sure, it fucking was.

  Despite his best effort to clamp down on his feelings in all matters concerning Glory Thomas, Jules felt a stab of disappointment when he saw Hal and not his sister emerge from that car.

  Now he lifted an eyebrow in surprise. Except for that first initial welcome home drive-by, no one in the club had seen the Marine since his arrival. But Prosper had told the boys about the thanks that Hal had extended to the club. Jules also knew from overhearing the women talk that Glory had been in touch with her girls but only barely.

  Jules got that.

  He knew that Hal probably needed a minute. And he knew that Glory probably needed that too.

  And shit, while he was at it, he might as well put himself on the list.

  Because he really wasn’t sure how he felt about Glory being back. He only knew that he couldn’t stop thinking about Glory being back.

  As Hal had stepped out of the car Jules’s eyes automatically scanned him for signs of injuries. His first thought was that Hal looked okay for the hell he had been through. His back was straight, his muscle tone still kicked ass and even though he walked with a slight limp, Hal’s gait was strong and his foot didn’t drag behind him.

  That was good.

  Real good.

  But when Hal turned around and gave Jules a full view of his face, Jules, who prided himself on being a stoic motherfucker, was glad he had his sun glasses on. The guy looked like Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the dama
ge to his face so bizarrely symmetrical that it looked like a really good Halloween costume—or a really bad joke.

  Poor fucking bastard.

  But Jules had to hand it to him, when Hal looked at him, he turned his full face towards him and pinned him straight with his good eye.

  “Jules,” Hal rumbled out a low greeting.

  “Hal.” Jules lifted his chin in response.

  “Got a minute?” Hal surprised Jules with his question.

  “Yeah.” He cleaned his hands off on a clean rag. “Club house is empty, if you wanna go inside and grab a beer."

  “Yeah. That’d be great.” Hal nodded.

  Jules slapped Hal on the back. “Good to see you, man.” And as Jules said it, he realized that he meant it. Jules and Hal had had their differences. They hadn’t met under the best of circumstances, but Hal had found a way to make that right—that among other things made Hal a stand-up guy in Jules’s book.

  Once they had cold brews in hand, Jules continued his quiet assessment of Hal. Even though outwardly the Marine looked like he was riding nothing but calm, Jules knew better. Hal hesitated just slightly before entering the room. His good eye scanned every square inch and Jules could almost see him mentally making notes of the exit areas. He didn’t sit at any of the empty bar stools or at any of the empty chairs, but stood instead with his back against the wall while his eyes kept darting back and forth to the door.

  And Hal was having a hard time standing still.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he spoke, like a boxer priming himself up for a fight.

  Jules took all this in and waited.

  It took Hal a good couple of minutes before he seemed to settle in and feel comfortable enough to let his guard down enough to begin the conversation. Then he looked at Jules and simply said, “Heavy bag, weight bench, Bow Flex machine.”

  Jules tipped his bottle back. “Club takes care of its own.”