by Ana Jolene
GLORY
Ana Jolene
GLORY
GLORY MC SERIES, BOOK ONE
Copyright © 2016 Ana Jolene
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover Design by Arie Bea
Formatting: Champagne Formats
ISBN: 978-0-9952412-1-3
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
DEFINITION
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY- FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
For Mom and Dad
Thank you for giving me the time to let me figure out who I was and what I wanted to be.
GLORY:
A state of splendor, magnificence and prosperity
ONE
Sucker for Red Soles
Indy
It wasn’t everyday that you walked into hell. Today the doors were wide open, encouraging people foolish enough, like me, to enter. The sound of heavy metal music poured from unseen speakers and much like I’d expected it to be, it was hot in here. Scorching, really. But so far, there was no brimstone or devil in sight.
“Can I help you?” a voice called out. I turned to face the woman behind the bar, eyeing her golden skin and shock of bright red hair. If word on the street was right then she had to be the owner of this little dive bar. “Hellooo,” she said as I stared at her. “Are you lost?”
Lost? I wish I were. But I’d actually come here on purpose. “Are you the boss around here?”
“Depends on who’s asking.”
“I’m India,” I said, holding out a hand. “But people call me Indy.”
A brow shot up to her hairline. “You got a last name, India?”
Crap. This was why I hated meeting new people. They always asked too many damn questions. When I took too long to answer, the owner started walking away.
“Hey, hold on.” I quickly jumped into the nearest stool at the bar. “Can I get a drink?” The owner paused, turning slowly. Sharp eyes assessed me from head to bust. By her body language and the way she moved cautiously around me, she clearly didn’t trust me. “Are you just going to ignore a customer?” I asked when she continued to analyze me.
“You aren’t a customer.”
Reaching into my pocket, I slapped enough credits on the bar to cover a drink. “You sure about that?” Despite my cool words, my spine was ramrod straight. I forced my body to relax inch by inch, slowly loosening up tight muscles that would give away my nervousness.
Thankfully, the redhead took the bait and tipped her chin at me. “What do you want?”
Anything really. I didn’t care. “Why don’t you surprise me?”
In record time, a drink was placed before me. I sipped at it, nodding as my taste buds did a little dance. At least now I had the liquid courage to do what I came here to do. No more excuses.
The owner leaned into the bar, now more comfortable with my presence. “Well, Indy. Now that you have your drink, why don’t you tell me what brings you to this fine establishment?”
Fine was a relative word. The dive bar we were in had seen better days. Sunlight poured in through the open windows, illuminating the bar instead of electrical lights. Four hours ago, another solar flare had hit us, knocking out all electrical power for an unknown period of time. As heat swarmed over us, everyone ran for cover, staying indoors where the lethal rain of radioactive sun sparks couldn’t reach us. With no electricity though, people had to make do with the harsh sunlight. Many opted to remain in the dark for the sake of cooling off when things got too hot to handle.
Six years ago, the first set of solar flares hit us, purging the world of buildings, land, and people. The human population thinned considerably as several waves hit us without warning. The world as we knew it had ceased to exist. There was no government. No ruling queen, no power structures, which left big opportunities for new rulers to take control and new societies to form. It would’ve been nice to have a little democracy, but who was I kidding? That would never happen. We lived in a greedy world and the more you had, the better off you were. Those who survived the initial blasts were forced to acclimate to the dry, humid air and learn a new way of living. Every so often another solar flare would occur, making us worry if this wave would be the one to take us all out.
I wiped a bead of sweat that gathered on my forehead with the back of my palm. These days, the desert heat was so thick it was like breathing in sludge. “I’d like to apply for a job,” I said, meeting the woman’s gaze head on.
She paused in the middle of wiping down the bar top to gave me a suspicious look. I stared right back. I wasn’t going to be deterred. I needed this job too much to give up simply because she was using her kung-fu intimidation tricks. Blue capable eyes examined me from head to torso as if she was totaling my worth right there on the spot. “Are you even old enough to work?” she finally asked.
“More than old enough,” I assured her. “I’m nineteen.”
“You don’t look like it.”
With a slim build and a heart-shaped face, most people thought I was younger than I really was. “Trust me, I am. And if I wasn’t, you’d have just given alcohol to a minor.”
The look she gave me told me that probably wasn’t the best move. Especially considering that I was asking her to hire me. But all she did was shrug her shoulders. “Who’s going to punish me?”
“You’ve got a point there,” I said on a laugh. Without government, there was no police. And since there was no police, there weren’t many people who cared about who you sold alcohol to. “So what do you say, are you looking to hire?”
As the owner leaned into the bar, the low V of her top dipped low to reveal some cleavage. “Do you know what kind of bar this is?” she whispered.
“I know this place has the best collection of alcohol in Ward Four.” But Neptune’s wasn’t just any old dive bar. It was widely known that the most badass and dangerous of all motorcycle clubs, Glory MC, used Neptune’s as their clubhouse.
Redhead snorted. “No need for the compliments. I already know that. I’m asking you if you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
My smile disappeared. “I know the risks.” I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t already aware. Glory MC weren’t just wannabe bikers. They were the real deal. And they didn’t mess around. And yet, here I was, hoping to land a job that would put me in the line of fire on a daily basis. Live fast. Die young. Be stupid enough to put yourself in a dangerous club’s way? Yup, that was me. Desperation kind of made you stupid.
/> “And you still want to work here?”
I laughed at the clear disbelief in her voice. “Look, I’m young and have a lot of energy. I’m willing to clean up after people and I can start right away. I need this job.”
Redhead leaned back, still eyeing me like we were in the midst of a staring contest. Game on. If this is what was needed of me to get this job, I could lock eyes with her all day.
Seconds passed and when she blinked, I knew I had won. “So?” I prompted. “Think you can take me on as a bartender? I’ve got the experience.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “God, you’re a pushy one. Do you ever take no for an answer?”
“What can I say? I’m persistent.”
“Annoying is what I would call it.”
Good. The corners of my lips tipped up. She was bantering with me now. I was making some ground. I could feel it. “Most people like a little initiative from their employees,” I shot back. “Come on, when’s the last time someone came in here to offer some help?” My guess? Never.
On a sigh, Redhead nodded. “Fine. You want a job, you’ve got it. Glory MC is riding in in fifteen minutes. Let’s go on back and we’ll see how well you can handle yourself.” The smile she shot me was all teeth.
Momentarily taken aback that my tactic worked, I mentally high-fived myself as I followed her through to the back of the bar and into a small office. “Wear this,” she said, tossing something at me over her shoulder.
I looked down at the fabric she gave me and blinked in surprise. “What is this?” Balled up, it looked like a rag.
“It’s a shirt, darling.”
“You call this a shirt?”
She laughed. “It says Neptune’s on it, doesn’t it? You wanna work here? You wear that every day and learn how to work the bar.”
I probably couldn’t even fit one arm let alone my entire torso in the thing, but if that was what it took . . . “Aye aye, captain,” I muttered. Removing the tank top I wore, I slipped into the tight T-shirt. The fit was snug and accentuated my boobs to its fullest, which was a big deal since my rack was not packing the same heat as Redhead over here.
She eyed me down, her satisfied smile telling me what she thought of my appearance. Her hand shot out. “Name’s Hanna by the way.”
“It’s a pleasure to work with you, Hanna.”
She snorted. “You won’t be saying that after your first shift.”
“When is that anyway?”
“Right now.”
I frowned. “Aren’t there some papers I need to sign first or something?”
“That’s later. You’re on clean up duty for the rest of the day. Once your shift is over, come by here later to sign your papers.”
Wait. Clean up? “But I thought I was hired for a bartender gig!”
Red tendrils danced around her face as she shook her head. “Nope.”
“But I—”
“No.” Hanna stepped forward, shooting me with a look that silenced me. “I’m the boss so I’ll decide when you can work the bar, got it?”
“Fine,” I gritted. Something suddenly told me this wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.
Shooting me another smile, Hanna flipped her hair up into a high ponytail and swept out of the room. The sudden deep rumbling of engines sounded outside and I froze, knowing what that meant.
Glory MC had arrived.
Hastie
Being outside was like stepping into a fucking furnace. Pure torture. The cut I wore was hot to the touch. It wouldn’t have surprised me if the next person who came in contact with me got first-degree burns. We wore the leather vests because they were both protection and identification rolled into one. The patch on the back clearly marked Glory MC with our logo, a hooded female called The Tempter, holding a scythe sitting on the edge of a blazing sun. It was something fully patched members wore with pride.
Settling in front of the clubhouse, I cut the engine of my Harley and hopped off, moving with a one-minded determination. I needed a cold one. Stat.
Peeling off my leather jacket was like shedding skin. I immediately felt better for it. Music beat distantly from somewhere, but I was too consumed in quenching my thirst. When an ice-cold beer was placed before me, I thanked God that it hadn’t warmed up with the power being out. Tipping it back, I drank it all in one shot.
It was a bad idea to ride in the sun today. Could’ve killed us all but business needed to be settled, and where Knuckle went, the rest of Glory MC followed.
As soon as my father, who just so happened to be the president of Glory MC, walked through the doors, Hanna ambled over and gave him a kiss on the lips. Large hands wrapped around her voluptuous body as Knuckle pulled her tight against him. I looked away, not liking the scene my father was making with the bar owner. Except that was a big reason why we were allowed here in the first place. As long as my dad was fucking Hanna, Neptune’s would be our clubhouse. I kept my eyes glued to the ground, far more interested in the state of the rundown hardwood floors than that shit.
The sound of clicking heels caught my attention. Without me moving, a pair of hotter than hell heels attached to long, slender legs stepped right into my line of vision. Louboutins, they were called. I knew ’cause they had the red bottoms.
Desire jackknifed through me at the sight. Before I could raise my eyes to meet who those sexy legs belonged to, Hanna yelled and the girl jumped, eager to do her bidding. All I saw next was an immaculate ass showcased in a pair of short shorts retreating to the men’s bathroom.
“Damn,” I breathed. Who the hell was she?
Indy
My choice of shoe wear was not conducive to today’s tasks. When I got dressed this morning, the job I had in mind had been slinging shots and pouring drafts. High heels meant loads of tips. Not this bullshit. But in order to get the position I wanted, I had to show Hanna that I was a diligent employee who could demonstrate leadership wherever that may be. Today it was in the men’s bathroom apparently.
Lovely.
The only toilet here was malfunctioning. Water overflowed from the bowl, running across the tiled floors. Hanna shot me a thank-God-I-had-the-foresight-to-hire-you-earlier smile and left to tend to the big bikers that required drinks.
Despite whatever bacteria or vile fluids I’d likely find in here, she wouldn’t receive too much argument from me. Rumors circulated about the bikers of Glory MC, but seeing them up close with my own eyes was different. They looked bigger and scarier than I expected, and there was something about them that emanated power and control. All that black leather, the big bodies and hard faces, definitely caused people to step back in awe or fear. I might be a bit reckless, but I wasn’t stupid.
T-shirt drenched with sweat and dirty water, I wiped my brow and leaned back against the wall after having finished mopping up the mess.
Looking down, I knew my Louboutins were ruined. I had the option to remove them, but standing bare foot in dirty water in the men’s only bathroom was not appealing to me in the least.
My Louboutins were one of the only things salvaged from my old home before the flares. It was why they held such sentimental value to me. I was sixteen at the time I got them, saving my first few paychecks to buy them. As a young woman, material things were the only things I cared about before my life fell off the tracks. The other things I grabbed when the flares hit were less girly and had to do more with my mental illness.
The feelings I had been experiencing finally had a name and an explanation. I was diagnosed with bipolar II disorder before the flares, and had gotten help and managed to control my rioting emotions for the most part. It differed from the other category of bipolar because my hypomania states often didn’t pose a problem for others. Instead, the cycles of depression were what made me and my family take notice. Making sure I had my medication was important. Even as I took my pills with me, while everyone else was looting for food, gas, or clothing, I was searching for more lithium.
I had been rationing the medication,
slowly weaning myself off the drugs because as time went on, they were getting more and more difficult to find. To prevent relapse, it took months to taper off the medication. Hopefully one day, I would be able to function without them, as long as I kept my head on straight.
As of right now though, I was functioning better than ever. The hypomania state I was in brought on increased energy, heightened productivity, and an overall sense of rightness in the world. I had my game face on and I was determined to get this toilet in working order.
Looking down, the water was still filled to the brim. Had Hanna called someone to get this checked out? Unless something was seriously lodged down there, we could use a plunger to clear it. Yet the brimming water left me with little faith. It would overflow no matter what I did next. Trying my luck, I pressed down on the handle on the toilet, praying that this time the water (and other things I didn’t want to think about) stayed inside the bowl.
The second I held the knob down, water rushed to the surface and didn’t stop coming. “Son of a—”
I looked down at my heels drenched in mucky toilet water and sobbed.
The Louboutins were total goners.
Hastie
I stood in the doorway to the men’s bathroom, watching as the bombshell mopped up toilet water. With the way she was cursing under her breath, I should have stepped in. But interrupting her would mean that I couldn’t stare at her any more.
And I’d been right. Her legs did go on for forever.
The mop made a sick, wet sound as she dragged it across the tiles. She was cursing louder now, and I bit back the smile that was forming on my lips. Eyes glued to her ass, I approved of the way she was backing up to me, that booty swaying enticingly in those short shorts, not at all realizing that I was watching. My hands itched to grab her hips and bring her back to my body, but seeing as she was cursing in a blue streak, I knew not to press my luck.