Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LUCIFER
“I hate weddings,” Nightmare grunts. He lifts his beer to his lips and takes a long gulp, keeping his eyes pinned to where Shadow’s dancing with his new bride on a makeshift dance floor behind the clubhouse.
“Yeah,” Dread drawls, shaking his head. “I’m not a fan of them either.”
Something tells me their disdain of weddings stems from the fucking shitshow surrounding this one.
Shadow and Della planned to marry at the ranch, under some fucking oak tree with the sprawling acres of land acting as the backdrop for their nuptials.
But three days ago, the contractors we hired to build the dude ranch upended those plans.
Ground wasn’t supposed to break for another month because they had another job.
That job got canceled, and the contractors came to Maddox, informing him they needed to move things around and start construction immediately, or the entire project would be delayed another two months.
No one, not Maddox, or the club, could afford that.
Maddox made the call, giving the contractors the green light, and twenty-four hours later the ranch was flooded with construction workers and heavy-duty equipment. That grand old oak tree became a stump as an excavation team cleared the trees for the site, annihilating any chance for a wedding.
Della was devastated, and Shadow turned into a basket case. That’s when he decided the show must go and they were going to have the wedding here at the fucking compound. He declared it an all hands on deck situation, and every man with a patch became his fucking bitch.
Tormentor built an arch that Maddox’s wife decorated with flowers she got from the farmers’ market, and a couple hours ago, Shadow stood in front of it as Della walked down a bootleg aisle the prospects made from a pallet of paving stones they robbed from a garden center two towns over.
Now, we’re all standing here like a bunch of schmucks, watching him spin his bride around.
“What about you, Prez.?” Dread questions, ramming his elbow into my gut. “What’s your take on weddings?”
My jaw clenches, and I glare at him. I wonder if Maddox will mind if I bury a body on his land.
“I fucking love them,” I growl.
Dread grins, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Do you prefer shindigs like this or are you more of a City Hall kinda groom?”
Better yet, I can dump his ass in the cement mixer. He can be an everlasting part of Della’s dude ranch when they pour the foundation.
Before I can wrap my hands around Dread’s throat, Homeboy walks up to the table and kills the moment. “Hey, can I ask your honest opinion about something?”
“This should be good,” Dread says.
“Those fucking cowboys over there are talking shit about the decorations,” Homeboy says, jutting his thumb over his shoulder.
My eyes move to where he’s pointing, and I see a few of Maddox’s ranch hands standing over by the fence, toying with crepe paper that’s draped over the edge.
One of them chuckles, and another points to the stripper pole in the corner of the yard—the one that we used to keep inside the clubhouse but decided to get rid of when we got the new pool table.
Nightmare was supposed to take it to the scrapyard, but with everything going on, it wasn’t a priority, so we improvised and hung paper fans from it to make it more aesthetically pleasing.
The cowboys laugh, and one walks over to it and starts gyrating on the fucking pole.
Such a classy wedding.
“Oh, yeah,” Dread says. “What are they saying?”
“Well, I heard the one dry humping the pole tell the other one with the plaid shirt that the only thing missing is a pi?ata.”
“I’ll tell you what’s missing,” Nightmare says, setting his beer on the table. “Fucking pussy. That’s what’s missing. Where the fuck are the saddle bunnies?”
I take a swig of my bourbon. “Persona non grata.”
Nightmare’s eyes narrow into tiny slits. “You’re joking.”
I shake my head and lower the glass from my lips, motioning across the yard to where Mammon stands.
“Nope. I learned that when I busted Mammon’s balls for bringing his sister as his date.
Apparently, it was a concern of Shadow’s.
He didn’t want Della to feel uncomfortable since he fucked half of them. ”
Nightmare’s jaw clenches. “How fucking selfish of the bastard. There aren’t even any bridesmaids to catch a blowjob from.”
Dread claps him on the back. “Looks like it’s you and your hand tonight, brother.”
“Fuck this,” Nightmare growls. “I’m going to get more of those cornbread sliders.”
“Wait for me,” Homeboy calls, running after him.
Dread chuckles. “That kid is never getting his colors.”
I take another sip of my bourbon, letting the burn distract me from the shitshow unfolding around me. The sound of tires crunching on gravel draws my attention to the driveway, and I spot a pickup rolling onto the property, the new Fallen Meadows logo emblazoned on the side.
“Jesus, another cowboy,” Dread mutters. “How many of them are there?”
“Too many,” I reply.
I don’t particularly have anything against them. They all seem like a bunch of good guys. I just don’t like being outnumbered.
The truck parks entirely too close to the line of Harleys near the entrance of the clubhouse, and I watch as the driver’s door swings open. A tall guy in a Stetson steps out. He rounds the front of the truck and opens the passenger door, holding out his hand like some fucking gentleman.
Then everything in me stills as my eyes land on Jess.
She’s dressed in a long, flowy purple dress that sways with her movements.
Her brown hair is pulled to the side in a braid, tendrils falling to frame her face.
She says something to the cowboy, and he tips his hat at her before offering her his arm as he kicks the passenger door closed with his boot.
When they start to walk slowly toward the reception, she lifts her head, and her eyes connect with mine.
“Oh, shit,” Dread mutters. “Did you know she was coming?”
“Do you think she’d be on the arm of another man if I fucking knew she was invited? I haven’t spoken to her in a fucking month.”
That day at the hospital, when she told me to leave, I realized I was totally gone for my wife, and walking away from her was necessary. I needed to cut her out of my life like a surgeon cuts out cancer before it spreads.
It was a struggle at first, but I went from thinking about her twenty-four seven to only letting thoughts of her invade my mind at night, and I drowned them out with a bottle of my favorite bourbon.
Then Tori called to tell me they had discharged her, and I started driving by their apartment every day like a fucking creep, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
I shove the glass against Dread’s chest and start in Jess’s direction.
“Hold on, man,” Dread says, dropping the glass and grabbing the back of my cut. “Think about what you’re about to do. No one knows you’re married to her.”
I shove him off me. “But she fucking knows, and she came here, to my fucking clubhouse, with another man.”
“You really want to blow this up? Now? At Shadow’s wedding?” Dread hisses.
I grind my teeth. Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to close the distance between us, to grab that cowboy by his fucking throat and show him exactly who she belongs to. But Dread’s words cut through the red haze clouding my vision, and I force myself to take a breath.
He’s right.
This is Shadow’s day. The last thing he needs is his president making a scene because the wife no one knows I have showed up on the arm of another man.
“Fine.”
Dread relaxes his grip on my cut, but his eyes stay locked on mine, making sure I’m not about to bolt. I take a step backward, putting some distance between myself and the direction of Jess, and lean against the table.
“Do you know who that is with her?” I ask, my molars grinding.
Dread squints, studying the cowboy as he guides Jess across the yard with his hand pressed against the small of her back. The gesture makes my blood boil, but I keep my expression neutral.
“I’m pretty sure I saw him fixing a tractor over at the ranch when I went over there to pick up the food for tonight.” Dread scratches his jaw. “So, maybe he’s a mechanic. I think Shadow said his name was Julian or some shit like that.” He glances at me. “You want me to find out?”
“Yeah.”
Dread nods and slips away, disappearing in the direction where the ranch hands still gather around the stripper pole.
I turn my attention back to Jess, watching as Amelia spots her from across the yard. Her face lights up, and she rushes over, arms outstretched. The two women embrace, and Amelia pulls back, saying something that makes Jess laugh—a sound I haven’t heard in what feels like a lifetime.
Amelia links her arm through Jess’s and leads her and the cowboy toward a table near the dance floor. Maddox is sitting there with Amelia’s son, Dylan, and an older woman I don’t recognize.
The cowboy pulls out a chair for Jess, then sits beside her, his Stetson tipping forward as he leans in to say something to Maddox.
It should be me pulling out her chair.
Me sitting next to her.
Me fucking draping my arm around her shoulders as I tug her against my side, making sure every man with a pair of working eyes knows she belongs to me .
I swallow hard, and my gaze slides back to her.
She looks fucking incredible. The purple dress hangs low around her neck, showing off the barest hint of cleavage, and my mouth goes dry at the sight.
It’s been a long time since I let myself look at her in that way.
The way where I memorize every curve and dream about uncovering every inch of her body.
I tear my eyes away from the swells of her tits and openly stare at her face, committing all her stunning features to my memory.
Her eyes . . . those lips . . . even the scar on her forehead is fucking beautiful.
She looks just as radiant and alive as she did before the fire.