Page 2 of Bride for the Bikers

“Over here.” Shadow motions to a door labeled “Dome Maintenance”. We slip through, closing it behind us.

It’s a good thing I’m not scared of heights, because the door puts us right on a platform overlooking the casino seven floors below. The building’s designed around a central column, like a straw standing on its end, with the hotel rooms wrapped around a large central column that extends up from the casino on the first three floors. Filling the base is a huge ballroom, with black and white checkered tile floor, burgundy walls, and a gigantic gold-plated white marble fountain in the middle of it. Fat baby angels spurt water outta their mouths into a pool filled with the biggest fucking koi fish I've seen in my life.

And right in front of us hangs the crowning glory of the whole fucking palace, Mesner’s pride and joy. The largest chandelier in the world, tens of tons of crystal, diamonds and steel. It stretches from where it's anchored on thick steel girders on our level, down past the next few floors. I can’t even guess how much this shit cost him, but it’s his baby. The thing that put him on the cover of architecture magazines, and what he uses as the logo on everything from the website to the fucking napkins. The lights inside pulse like candles, making the whole thing shimmer.

I point. “Should we get something like that installed in the clubhouse?”

“Nah,” says Outlaw, grinning through his beard. “We got class.”

Thunder snorts.

Fucking it up is a perfect metaphor for what we'll do to him if causes trouble in South Side again.

There's a wedding about to start, and in about ten minutes the space will be packed with guests in tuxes and fancy dresses. We knew that, of course. It's the whole fucking point. Mesner's daughter's getting hitched, and we're gonna make sure it's a day he never fucking forgets.

Nitro, one of the boys back home, gave us a little package designed to go boom, and Shadow pulls it from his jacket. It's compact, wrapped in brown paper and looks completely fucking harmless. You'd never think something that small could do the kinda damage it's designed to.

I gesture at him. “Toss it here. I'll go place it.”

Shadow looks at me like I'm a fucking idiot. “I’m not tossing shit. If any of us are going to do it, it’s me. I don’t want the supports to give out under you.”

“If the dome can handle the fucking chandelier, it can handle me. I'm not gonna make a fuck of a difference.” If anyone's the actual wrecking balls in team Wrecking Ball, it's Thunder and me, but it’s not like I’m Godzilla, for fuck’s sake.

I snag the package before he can open his trap again and step onto the metal catwalk that provides access to the top of the chandelier. My first steps are cautious, testing its strength. Intheory, I have no fucking doubt it's strong enough, but the lizard brain wants to know.

“If you’re going to talk the talk, then walk the fucking walk,” Thunder says in a low growl.

“I'm going, I'm going. Jesus.”

From up here, the ground floor feels a mile away. If I look down, I can see straight to the fountain below, and while I don't have a fear of heights, there’s a damn surge in my gut like I'm coming down on a roller coaster. Still, I keep going. We need to time this so it makes a huge, expensive fucking mess and scares the shit out of people, instead of tearing the wedding guests to shreds.

At the center of the catwalk, there's a round metal platform, and a maintenance ladder that descends into the core of the chandelier. It's so fucking monstrous that it's got the room for it. I slip the explosives into my vest and climb down so I'm outta sight.

With all the bulbs on, it's like being inside the fucking sun. I unwrap Nitro's little package, then start attaching the C4 exactly like he showed me. If I do this right, the whole fucking thing's gonna come crashing down when we hit the button. I want a good view when it happens, because it's gonna be fucking glorious.

Music starts up below. The wedding’s about to start. I find a space between the bulbs to peek down into the foyer.

There's the man himself, Vincent Mesner, and on his arm… holy shit.

We knew this was his daughter’s wedding, but he must’ve had her hidden away because nobody knows who the fuck she is. Ifigured she’d be hot, but I thought it would be in an artificial boob and nose job for her sixteenth birthday kind of way. I wasn't expecting to see a gorgeous girl next door with the kind of figure that makes you want to sin, over and fucking over. Cleavage I want to slide my dick through, and the kind of hips I’d dig my fingers into as I slam my cock into her. I bet that ass would jiggle just right as I put her on all fours in front of me and showed her exactly what I'm fucking good for.

She looks up, and if I didn't fucking know better, I'd think she could see me, like she just heard my thoughts. For a moment, I swear we lock eyes, before she looks away.

Never mind her figure, her face…

Big eyes, cute nose, rosy lips and artfully styled blonde curls pouring down over her shoulders from under a crown of diamonds. Fuck, I know she's all done up for a wedding, but you can't fucking paint that beauty onto a face if it's not there to start. I shouldn't be distracted by this shit while I'm busy planting a fucking bomb, but here we are. Jesus fucking Christ. Her man's gonna be lucky. I'm jealous of that fucker already. I almost feel bad for what we’re about to do.

But that's not the face of a woman on the happiest day of her life. Fucking wedding day, she should be beaming, but she looks miserable. Her expression is blank and fragile, like one wrong move and it could shatter just like this chandelier is about to. What the fuck kind of wedding has the bride looking like she'd rather be anywhere else but here?

Whatever. It's none of my fucking business. And I can't make it my business. I've got a fucking job to do.

Still, it makes me wanna smooth her hair back and kiss her senseless until she forgets all about what's bothering her. And from how tight my jeans feel, I'd be happy to comfort her in some other ways too.

With a resigned sigh, I give the explosives a last check. Need to get this over with so I can have one of the sluts take care of business and clear my fucking mind. I can’t be letting some crooked billionaire’s brat get to me so much that I can’t do my fucking job. I shimmy back up to the ramp and across back to the guys. “Job's done.”

Shadow pulls out his phone and flips up an app with a big button on it. “Time for the fireworks?”

I throw a last glance over my shoulder. We’re out of time. In a minute, the doors are going to open and Mesner and his hot as fuck daughter will start the walk. I nod. “Start the timer.”

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