I glance toward the door Frost disappeared through hours ago, my chest warming.
“I hope you like surprises, Frost,” I whisper. “Because this one’s for you.”
CHAPTER 23
FROST
Las Vegas looks the same as it always does: loud, bright, crowded, and fake as hell. Neon lights blink like they’re trying to give the sky a seizure, and everything smells like cigarette smoke, cheap perfume, and bad decisions.
Usually, I don’t give a shit about any of it, but tonight? Tonight, I’m pissed. Colt rides beside me, his bike rumbling in a steady rhythm as we pull into Saint’s Outlaws MC compound. He glances my way, reading me too easily.
“You can stop scowling,” he calls over the engine. “We’re only here for two nights.”
I grunt. “Still too long.”
Colt laughs. “Brother, you’ve been whiny as hell ever since you left Hope’s side.”
“That’s not—” I shut up, realizing it isexactlythat. I’m not even embarrassed. I just got her back, and I’m not exactly thrilled to leave her behind so soon.
We pull into the lot, kill the engines, and dismount. Vegas stomps out of the clubhouse with Casino, his Vice President, at his side. Vegas is all grin, tattoos, and swagger. Casino is quieter but even more dangerous-looking.
“Frost,” Vegas says, pulling me into a half-hug. “Good to see you again.”
“Wish I could say the same,” I mutter.
He just laughs. “Damn, you’re cranky. Hawk warned me, but shit.”
Colt elbows me. “Ignore him. He misses his girl.”
Vegas blinks. “Holy shit. This the same girl you were torn up about before your fight?”
I dip my chin. “Can we get to why we’re here?”
Casino crosses his arms. “Yeah, about that?—”
I narrow my eyes because something about all of this feels off.
“Why exactly did you need backup for atoy drive?” I ask.
Vegas sighs dramatically. “Okay, so, listen, most of my guys are sick.”
“Bullshit,” Colt scowls.
“No, really.” Vegas lifts both hands like he’s surrendering. “Half my guys caught the flu. They’re puking their guts out. We don’t have enough manpower to load the trucks, deliver toys, and hand out meals at the shelter.”
Colt looks at Casino. “Truth?”
Casino nods. “I wouldn’t drag another club out here if it wasn’t legit.”
I study both men carefully. Their expressions are serious, and dark circles are under their eyes. The clubhouse behind them looks weirdly quiet. Usually, it’s pandemonium, but tonight, it’s practically silent. There are no brothers or women walking around, only a handful of guys coughing in the doorway.
Vegas gestures toward them. “See? We’re dying.”
One guy actually dry heaves into a bush.
Colt grimaces. “Fuck, don’t aim at my boots.”
Vegas pats my shoulder. “Look, Frost, man. I swear. We’re not hiding some MC conspiracy from you. I promise. We just need warm bodies who won’t drop dead.”
