5. Hades
Chapter five
Hades
Bobbie and Psycho’s wedding arrived with a warm breath of spring to chase away the winter chill. Buttery golden sunlight spilled through the clubhouse windows, casting a hazy, dream-like illumination over the main room.
Every inch of the place had been scrubbed for the event.
The sticky floors were mopped and polished to a smooth shine.
Ironside’s wife, Lena, brought flowers from her shop, transforming our man cave hangout with snow-white daisies, frothy baby’s breath, and blushing pink roses.
The old bar counter—pockmarked with scars from years of abuse at the hands of rough bikers—was now covered with a gauzy linen cloth, piled with wedding gifts and engagement pictures of Bobbie and Psycho.
Since it was a private affair, the clubhouse was closed to outsiders for the day. Only friends, family, and patched members were allowed to attend. There would be no wayward drifters passing through, no flirty club bunnies, and no drunk troublemakers.
“When are we going to have cake?” Casey declared. “I’m hungry.”
The smell of Jenny’s cake that emanated from the kitchen was torture, but we wouldn’t be eating until after the ceremony. Casey sniffed the air. I grabbed the back of his shirt before he could make a run for the kitchen.
“We will have cake when your mother says it’s time to have cake, you rabid creature,” I said.
Trooper sidled up next to us, hiding something in his hand.
“Hey, kid,” he said in a loud whisper.
Casey stopped squirming and glanced up. Trooper put a finger to his lips and opened his hand to reveal two peanut butter cookies in his palm. Casey gasped with delight.
“I swiped these from the kitchen,” Trooper said. “Share them with your sister.”
Casey’s eyes brightened and he took the cookies with both hands. Then he hurried off to find Mia.
“What about me?” I demanded. “Did you bring me anything?”
Trooper snorted and waved me off.
“Fuck no. Get your own damn cookies. Jenny almost smacked the hell out of me with a spatula. There’s no way I’m risking my neck like that again.”
I chuckled.
“Didn’t you serve in the military?”
“Yeah. What’s your point?” Trooper countered, playing along.
“A literal war zone doesn’t scare you, but my Jenny armed with a spatula makes you shit your pants?"
“Exactly. That’s why I’m staying out here with you, where it’s safe. Does she know you were at Recoil's race yesterday?"
"Absolutely not," I replied. "And you won't tell her either. She worries too much."
"I figured," Trooper said with a sage nod. "She's not chewing your ear off about how unsafe it is."
"Let's keep it that way, all right?"
When Jenny called me to pick up the kids yesterday, I was at one of Recoil's races.
The damn things were death traps, but adrenaline, alcohol, and fast bikes always drew a big crowd.
I had no intention of participating myself since it was a younger man's game.
And Jenny didn't need to wonder what I was doing at a bike race that wasn't exactly legal…
The clubhouse kitchen had been a beehive of activity since seven o’clock this morning.
Jenny was putting the finishing touches on the wedding cake she made—a three-tier masterpiece with golden brown hazelnut cream, dripping in caramel sauce, and piped with swirls of white chocolate rosettes.
Ironside was lending a hand making desserts for the reception, along with Tarzan’s wife, Keely.
When Lena was done with the flowers for the wedding, she volunteered to babysit Keely’s little one, Dot.
And she looked like she was in heaven—rocking the baby in her arms, playing with her tiny pink toes.
Ironside and Lena got married last year, but they hadn’t mentioned anything about having kids of their own yet.
After this, I wouldn’t be surprised if they would be trying for a baby as soon as possible.
An ache twisted in my chest. I remembered when Mia and Casey used to be that small, and I would hold them for hours, mesmerized by every burble and coo that they made.
Would Jenny want another kid when she remarried? She was only thirty-three. That left plenty of time to get pregnant again. My throat grew tight at the thought.
Jenny was…breathtaking…when she was pregnant and I couldn’t take my eyes off her while she was carrying Mia and Casey.
She wore these billowing, breezy maternity dresses that draped and bunched in all the right places to accentuate the fullness of her breasts and the swell of her stomach.
She fretted about gaining weight when she was already plus-sized, but every time I looked at her, I saw a goddess incarnate and I worshipped every inch of her like she was holy.
“Let’s get this show on the road, ladies and gentlemen.”
Hillbilly, our former President, was officiating the wedding, and it was good to hear his Kentucky drawl presiding over us again the way he used to.
Now that he had retired and passed the responsibility of leadership to Pretty Boy, he didn’t handle the hard hitting, heavy lifting club business anymore, but he still showed up for the fun stuff, like picnics, rallies, and charity rides.
Bobbie emerged from the back rooms, with Pretty Boy’s wife, Lila, adjusting the train of her gown.
She was a vision in white, with sheer sleeves and a lace bodice freckled in pale blue flowers.
Psycho was waiting for her at the bar, with the biggest smile on his face that I’d ever seen during the years that I’d known him.
Jenny slipped out of the kitchen and came to join me.
She smelled like wedding cake—vanilla and sugar and hazelnut.
Her lilac gown was gathered at one shoulder, leaving the other shoulder bare.
My gaze strayed to the smoothness of her skin, thinking of nothing else except the desire to press my lips there at the juncture of her neck and shoulder where I knew from previous experience she would give the sweetest sigh…
“You’re staring,” Jenny murmured, clasping her hands in front of her. She kept her gaze on Bobbie and Psycho with a dreamy little smile on her face. She was such a romantic at heart, playing matchmaker at every opportunity, gushing over weddings and bridal gowns.
“Can’t blame me for that, honey,” I replied. “You are a fucking vision.”
She hummed and cast a glance at me through her lashes. Then she leaned in, dropping her voice even lower.
“Just because I didn’t bring a date doesn’t mean you can flirt your way into my panties, Simon.”
I chuckled and trailed my knuckles down her arm, threading our fingers together. Then I tucked her hand into the crook of my elbow.
“It’s worth a shot.”
Jenny could have pulled away, but she didn’t. Instead, she absently squeezed my bicep, stroking her thumb along the ink there.
“You're relentless.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I replied.
“Sometimes it’s important to know when to call it quits and accept defeat,” Jenny pointed out.
I made a thoughtful noise, tilting my head to kiss her cheek.
“If my cock was buried inside you right now, chasing your third orgasm,” I whispered. “You would be singing a very different tune, mi amor.”
She gasped and swatted my chest. I laughed.
After the ceremony, the bar was cleared to make room for the buffet. Bobbie and Psycho wanted to keep everything as simple as possible, so we had pizza catered from Recoil’s family-owned Italian restaurant, Pepper’s Pizzeria.
With over two dozen pizzas, hot fresh garlic knots, and giant pots of bubbling pasta in rich creamy sauces, there was more than enough food for everyone to eat their fill.
Jenny hadn’t touched a single bite though. She was too busy flitting from one thing to the next, keeping the reception running smoothly. I finally caught her wrist and pulled her into the empty chair beside me, nudging her plate closer.
“You need to eat, honey,” I said. “Sit down for a minute.”
“But we’re almost out of ice—”
“Then you come talk to me and I’ll send one of the boys to fetch more for you. That’s the perk of being a superior officer. Anyone below my rank has to follow my orders.”
Jenny picked at the crust of her pizza, tearing off a piece and nibbling at it.
“You just want an excuse to boss people around.”
I huffed with amusement and cupped my palm to the back of her neck.
“The only excuse I want is to get my wife off her feet so she can stop running herself ragged.”
Jenny released a heavy sigh and gradually sagged into me. She was so close, so cozy, that I could have turned my head and kissed her temple easily.
“That does sound nice,” she admitted.
I let out a short, sharp whistle and Viper glanced up from the bar, piling his plate with more pizza.
“My Jenny says we’re low on ice,” I said. “Can you make a quick run and restock the kitchen?”
“Yeah, sure, let me finish—”
“Now,” I said with steel in my voice.
Viper grumbled but he didn’t protest. Defying orders from a higher ranking officer was met with zero tolerance.
The club’s hierarchy required the utmost respect at all times.
If Viper wanted to make a big deal about it, he would be reminded of the lessons he was supposed to learn as a Prospect—humility, obedience, and no backtalking.
Usually through scrubbing toilets, or other menial, unpleasant dirty work that no one wanted to do.
Fetching ice was the least of his concerns.
“Dad,” Casey called, running up to my side. “Can I have another slice of pizza?"
“Jesus, kid, are you actually going to eat it, or wear it?”
I surveyed the sauce all over his face in dismay. Grabbing a napkin, I placed a hand on top of his head to hold him still while I scrubbed him clean. He wrinkled his nose and squirmed in protest.
“I can take him,” Bruiser offered as he passed me.
“Go with your Uncle Bruiser,” I told Casey. “Don’t cause any trouble, and make sure you say thank you.”
Casey skipped along beside Bruiser’s hulking figure as they headed to the bar. Then Bruiser scooped up Casey to give him a bird’s eye view of the pizza selection.
“All right, little man, the choice is yours,” Bruiser said. “What will it be? Pepperoni? Sausage? Cheese? You better not be one of those pineapple freaks, like your Uncle Psycho.”
“I heard that,” Psycho shot back from across the room.
I chuckled as they tossed friendly jibes at each other back and forth. When I turned to my plate, I caught Jenny staring at me.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing,” she replied with a shrug and quickly focused on her food again.
I draped an arm over the back of her chair, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.
“I know that look, honey. It’s not nothing. You’re undressing me with those pretty hazel eyes of yours. And if you don’t stop, it’s going to be damned difficult to hide what you’re doing to me.”
Jenny choked on a bite of pizza and covered her mouth with her hand. Her gaze flicked to mine, eyes twinkling. She cleared her throat and hurriedly pushed her plate aside.
“I should go check on the cake. It’s about time to bring it out anyway.”
“You’re not running away, are you?” I replied.
Jenny cast a glance over her shoulder, trying to appear serious. But I didn’t miss the flicker of a smile on her lips.
She liked this game—cat and mouse, a little lively chase.
And I was more than willing to indulge her as long as she wanted to play.