Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4) (21 page)

The next day, while Dr. Giordani was in with Jules, Glory took the opportunity to have a cup of coffee with Dolly and Pinky. Hal stood at the counter toying with some kind of electronic device.

“Prosper gave us the clear to be on our way home sometime tomorrow," Pinky said. "I guess there are just a few more security issues that they want to check on. And there is still work to be done at the Saints compound. But by some miracle the kitchen house and the boys' rooms weren’t hit by the blast. The Aces have sent some of their crew to help with the repairs on the other buildings. The fence and security system will be fixed by then too. And it has been verified that the danger to everyone has passed, isn’t that right, Hal?”

Hal kept his eyes on the schematic manual he was reading, and grunted, “Yeah, that’s right. Fuckers got the message loud and clear. Tomorrow’s a go.”

“That’s good. I am anxious to get home myself.” Dolly took a long sip from her coffee cup then added with a sigh, “But it’s been great for Valentina to have people around. I hope now that she has met most of you, she’ll feel more comfortable getting out more.”

“You said she works at the bakery?” Glory prodded.

“Yeah, but only in the mornings. She stays in the back and leaves before it gets too busy. She’s uneasy in crowds.”

Hal paused from reading and looked up. “Who you talking about?”

“Gianni’s daughter.”

“Gianni’s got enemies? Is he worried that someone is looking to nab his kid?”

Pinky looked at Hal in puzzlement, then nodded. “Oh, that’s right. You haven’t met her yet. She’s not a child, Hal. As a matter of fact, she’s a lovely young woman—a teacher. And no, it has nothing to do with Gianni.”

“Then what’s she afraid of?” Hal wanted to know.

“Remember that awful earthquake that hit the Caribbean a while back?” Dolly asked.

Hal looked at her blankly, but Glory spoke up. “I think Hal had just been transferred to Walter Reed when it happened. But I remember it. It was horrible—like an eight on the Richter scale. Took out a whole bunch of villages. And all those school children died.”

Claire frowned at the memory. “Oh no, Valentina wasn’t there, was she?”

“Yes. She was,” Dolly confirmed. “The school crumbled like paper. It was almost four days before Gianni got word that she was alive and all that time she was under that rubble. By some miracle she survived. She was disoriented and severely dehydrated by the time they got her out, but not a scratch on her. Meanwhile she was trapped underneath with all those poor dead and dying children.”

“For how long?” Hal asked, as Glory let out a gasp of horror.

Dolly paused in thought.

Then a voice sounded out from the doorway behind them.

“Three days, nine hours, and forty-five minutes.”

For a moment no one spoke.

No one moved.

Glory watched in dismay as everyone turned their eyes toward the woman standing in the doorway.

Pinky, Dolly and Claire blushed in apology, obviously embarrassed to the core to be caught gossiping about the young woman. Hal pushed himself away from the counter and stared at Valentina with rapt curiosity.

After taking a small moment to compose herself, Valentina Abruzzi crossed over the threshold and sent out a small gracious smile. “It’s okay, I know that people are talking about me and I know my continued absences probably need some explanation.”

Her sad eyes touched everyone in the room as she went on to explain.

“It’s crowded places that I find difficult. And tight spaces. And places where there is too much noise. Or too much quiet.” Valentina gave a small cheerless laugh. “And the dark. I’m afraid of the dark. Oh and really, really bright light. I’m afraid of that too. So basically it’s everything. I am afraid of everything.” She frowned and raised her shoulders in a shrug. “My father has made so many excuses for me with the family, it’s a relief to hear somebody tell the truth.”

Valentina looked at Hal with a small apologetic smile and said courteously, “I’m sorry. I don’t usually make such a dramatic entrance. You must be Glory’s brother, Hal, isn’t it? My father speaks very highly of you.”

Typical of Hal, he did not respond to Valentina with any more than a cool nod. But for the first time since the accident, Glory noticed that he didn’t try to angle his face to show the good side. He met her look straight on, almost as if he were issuing a challenge.

And on her part, Valentina seemed not at all bothered or intimidated by Hal’s lack of verbal response. Or by his injuries.

She simply waited him out.

When he remained silent, Valentina was undeterred. Instead she went on to say to him in a voice filled with compassion, “I have spent some time with children from refugee camps and I have seen first-hand what war can do. I appreciate your service and I offer my condolences on the loss of your men. I know how deeply you must feel their sacrifice.”

For months and months Glory had danced around the devastating issue of the bomb and the death of Hal’s men, and she had watched others do the same.

Now barely two minutes after being introduced to him, Valentina Abruzzi had ripped the Band-Aid off of what could only be a very deep wound. Glory had no idea how her brother would react to that. Her heart constricted in her chest and she winced at the pain those words may have caused him. But as seemed to be the case these days, her brother’s response totally surprised her.

Hal regarded Valentina slowly and completely. An electric energy charged the air and as Glory watched on she could have sworn she saw Hal stand a little straighter.

“I appreciate that,” he said simply.

With a small nod Valentina turned away from Hal and bid them good-bye. After a few minutes of contemplative silence Hal turned to Dolly, his voice a low rumble as it filled the quiet room. “Valentina Abruzzi? Anything she needs? You let me know.”

Before Dolly could stammer out a surprised response, Dr. Giordani stood in the doorway.

“The patient is doing well, but he’s going to need someone to keep a close eye on that wound. I hear that you will be moving him tomorrow. The situation at the Hells Saints compound isn’t the best for Jules’s condition. I understand there need to be repairs to the property. However, he needs a clean, comfortable environment to recuperate in. The prognosis is excellent, but there remains a danger of infection. All that dirt and dust…”

Doctor Giordani looked around the room expectantly.

“He is going to be staying with us. With my brother and me. At the lake house,” Glory announced with a look at Hal.

“Can’t see it happening any other way,” Hal agreed.

“Good. That would be best.” The doctor looked pleased. “Mr. Abruzzi has my number. Please feel free to call me with any questions or if there is any change at all in the appearance of the incision—discoloration, swelling, heat—anything.” Then he looked pointedly at Glory’s worried regard. “Just precautions. I’ll check back in on him in a few days.”

“Thank you for everything, Dr. Giordani,” Glory said with heartfelt sincerity.

“My pleasure.” The physician gave her a reassuring smile and turned to go. Then he stopped at the doorway and called out behind him. “Oh, I almost forgot he asked me to tell you that he needs to see you.”

When Glory leapt up and almost spilled her cup, Dr. Giordani smiled and shook his head kindly at her. “Relax and finish your coffee, Glory. I was talking to your brother.”

“Hey man, looking good.” Hal grinned at Jules from the doorway. He could see that Jules was struggling to reposition a pillow under his leg and in the process had got the sheets all twisted around him. “You know you’re just making it worse. Stop thrashing around like a chained tiger.”

“Fuck you,” Jules growled. But when Hal moved to straighten out the mess he had made of the bedding, Jules sank back in the pillows with a sigh of relief.

“Sucks, don’t it?” Hal looked at him in commiseration.

“Yeah it does. You got any weed on you?” Jules looked hopeful. “Prosper came by earlier and left me a bottle, but those damn pills the doc gave me make my stomach feel like shit. I took a hit of whiskey and almost lost my damn lunch. That’s all I need is to puke all over Gianni’s hundred dollar sheets, but I need some damn pain relief.”

When Hal reached into his back pocket and pulled out a plastic bag with three fat joints in it, Jules let out a low whistle. “Besides your sister, best fucking thing I’ve seen all day.”

Hal let out a chuckle. “I bet. Although, I think you and I both know that there are a hell of a lot worse places to land—after getting shot up—than a multi-million dollar mansion.”

Jules closed his eyes in bliss and inhaled deeply from the offered joint. “A-fucking-men to that. And don’t think I ain’t grateful. Just ready to go home. That’s all.”

“Well, home’s gonna be the lake house for you for the next few weeks. Debris is still all over the compound. Not a good idea for you to have to navigate through all that dust and rust,” Hal told him. “You good with staying with Glory and me for a while?”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Jules answered with a casual shrug but actually he was filled with relief. In truth, he had been worried about getting around all that dirty debris that littered the compound. The doc had left him a wheelchair to use for a week or so, and then crutches after that for another couple of weeks. Jules was okay with that. The shit that he had seen out in the field, the pain he was in—although he never voiced his fears aloud, he had been afraid he might lose his leg. He had seen it happen too many times not to have that cross his mind. But no bones had been broken or shattered by the bullet and the wound was clean. And although Jules still wasn’t crazy about the idea of a mob doctor working on him, he had seen enough to know that Doctor Giordani knew his stuff.

Jules turned his attention back to Hal and handed him the joint. “Glory okay with that? Me staying?”

“Yeah. More than okay.” Hal paused while he inhaled. “She’s gonna be glad to have someone to fuss over again.”

“Nah, man. You got that wrong,” Jules told him.

“Yeah? How so?” Hal looked at him with curiosity.

“Glory don’t like to fuss—she just can’t help herself. She takes it all on—everybody’s issues.” Jules had had a lot of time to think the past two days. And most of that time he had spent thinking about Glory.

Hal pondered the statement for a minute. “Yeah, you could be right. Never thought of it that way. She was always like that, even as a kid. Fuss and worry, fuss and worry. But I guess she kind of felt she had to-—my mom, my dad. ” Hal shrugged. But Jules didn’t miss the cloud of pain that passed over him as memories gave way to understanding.

“Which is why she don’t need more on her plate.” Jules told him.

“Yeah, I think I know what you’re getting at. Prosper talked to me yesterday about joining the Saints. Part of it I know was his gratitude for the way I stood with the boys against the Colombians. But I like to think that a bigger part of it is that he sees me as a good fit for the club.  I know for sure the club would be a good fit for me. The whole band of brothers’ thing? I miss it. But I know that my little sister is not gonna be down with that,” Hal told him.

Jules considered what Hal said for a minute before he nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, you joining the club? Love to see that brother. You’re right though. Glory probably won’t like it.”

Hal snorted as he inhaled the last of the joint.

“But you’re a grown ass man. You gotta do what you gotta do,” Jules said in no uncertain terms. Then he nodded to his cigarettes by the table. “That’s not what I’m talking about, brother.”

Hal got up and handed Jules the Marlboros. “Okay. So what is it then?”

Jules used the time it took to pull the cigarette out of the pack, light up and draw deep to gather his thoughts. But the pain and the nausea he was experiencing did nothing to improve his natural tendency towards a lack of tact.

“You gotta tell Glory the truth about Vegas, man. I know you were pissed off and believe me I get it. There have been times when I wanted to wring your sister’s neck, myself.” Jules smirked for a moment. “But you can’t put that on her. You can’t let her go on believing that you killed that motherfucker, Vincenzo. You know she’s gonna blame herself for that.”

Hal looked at Jules guiltily. “Yeah, I know. Pretty fucking shitty of me to lay that on her. Words spoken in anger and all that. I guess I figured maybe I could shock some sense into her by making her realize the consequences of her actions.”

“Yeah, well I think she gets it now,” Jules huffed and shook his head. “Woman’s been through hell and back. Some of it her own doing, granted. But you can’t argue with the size of her heart, man. She’s harder on herself than you could ever be. You got to know that.”

“Yeah, I know. And I’m going to tell her the truth. I’m a dick, but I’m not that much of a dick.” Hal frowned. Then he gave Jules a long calculated look. “How did you know? What gave me away?”

As Jules paused in contemplation, he took another long draw on the cigarette, exhaled and squinted through the curl of smoke. When he saw the frank puzzlement in Hal’s face, he felt his whole body relax. Because up to this point he really hadn’t been sure that Hal hadn’t killed Vincenzo. But he sure as hell hoped he hadn’t. Not that the sleaze ball didn’t deserve it. He deserved ten deaths for what he put Glory through and the way he played Hal. But the way Jules looked at it, the two of them already carried enough shit to last a lifetime. They didn’t need a cold blooded execution weighing on their conscious.

“So how did you know?” Hal asked again.

“The security cameras, man. Not something that you’d let happen,” Jules shook his head.

“Yeah. You’re right.” Hal told him. Then added with a self-deprecating grin. “Complications of Plan A.”

“You gonna explain that?” Jules was all ears.

“Sure. But before I do I just want to make something clear. I planned on killing Vincenzo. I went to Vegas for the
sole purpose
of killing Vincenzo. And it wasn’t my conscience or regard for human life that stopped me. Plan A was to get him away from that hotel, lead him out to the

desert, cap him, and leave his body for the buzzards. When shit got in the way of plan A I had to go to B and sad to say, plan B didn’t have a killing option.” Hal shook his head in regret.

“What was the shit that got in your way?” Jules asked in fascination.

“I thought I had a guy inside that could interrupt the monitors, but that fell through. So when I realized that I was getting cheated out of killing the motherfucker, I decided to settle for beating the shit out of him. And I did, I beat Vincenzo’s ass pretty good, but I didn’t kill him. Not only was Vincenzo alive when I left, but he got a couple of good punches in before I laid his ass out. Strong for an old fucker. Dirty fighter too. Bastard tried to bite off my ear.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“So you’re gonna tell her, right? Ease her mind?”

“Yeah, man. Of course,” Hal assured him.

Jules nodded in satisfaction. “So if you didn’t kill Vincenzo then who do you think did? Who do you think wanted him dead?”

“You kidding me? Let’s start with who
didn’t
want him dead because that list is a hell of a lot shorter.” Hal snorted. “Vincenzo was like the rest of the Abiatti family. They’re all cheaters, liars, drunks and con-men.”

Then he paused in thought.

“Had to be Santino. Time line and circumstances fit.” Hal continued in disgust. “Slimy snake killed his own father. Thought he would get the keys to the kingdom but appears the joke was on him.”

“Reads like a Shakespearean goddamn tragedy,” Jules added, like he knew. Then he reached into the baggie and lit up another joint.

“Hey, I watched Jeopardy when I was laid up too. That show is the shit. You thinking Henry VI? Where the son offs the father to get the throne or some shit?” Hal asked.

“Yeah. That’s it. Henry the fucking VI. Wasn’t he the one with all the wives?” Jules brought his brows together in thought and took another deep hit off the joint.

“Yeah I think so,” Hal agreed.

Then for no apparent reason other than enjoying a good high and releasing a lot of the tension of the past few days the two big men looked at each other and burst out laughing

Suddenly Glory appeared in the doorway and let out a loud cry of vexation as she waved through the smoke in the room and went to open a window.

“Really?” she said. “I thought the weed was just to be used to take the edge off the pain not so you two fools can act like hyenas and pretend you know anything at all about Shakespearean literature or the history of kings. Which—by the way you are both wrong —the guy who had all the wives was not Henry VI—he was Henry VIII.” At Jules and Hal’s giddy expression she lifted her nose at them and added imperiously. “And Henry VIII died in the Tower of London
possibly
killed on the orders of Edward IV.

“What’s she talking about?” Jules passed the joint back to Hal.

“Fuck if I know.” Hal took a long toke.

Then they looked at each other and burst out laughing again.

Glory sniffed in disapproval, squared her shoulders and walked stiffly out of the room. But just as she was about to turn the corner, Jules saw the corner of her lips lift merrily and heard her let out the small gasp of giggle that she could not quite contain.