PROLOGUE
Hope
“Everyone ready to head to Las Vegas?” Hawk asks, voice carrying through the Devil’s Gambit common room.
The place erupts. Chairs scrape back, beers lift, and people whoop loud enough to rattle the walls. The air is thick with anticipation and the same restless energy the men get when a run is coming. It’s been a nonstop month of vendors, fittings, arguments over the guest list, and Frost pretending he doesn’t care what song plays when we walk down the aisle.
We’re loading up one of the SUVs with luggage now so we can leave bright and early in the morning. Amy pushes through the crowd with her rolling suitcase and comes to a full stop right in front of me.
My eyes bulge when I see her added accessory. “You can’t bring Big Lil’.”
Amy freezes, her body angled just right to keep the very obvious wooden bat slung over her shoulder. Slowly, she looks atit, her expression one of shock, like she’s now realizing it’s there. Then she looks back at me, her eyes wide, wounded, and a little unhinged.
“Hope,” she says, voice wobbly. “That’s like asking me to leave an organ behind.”
“It’s a combined bachelor-bachelorette party in Vegas,” I say carefully. “Not a turf war.”
Amy tightens her grip on the bat. “You don’t know that.”
Chaos snorts from beside Frost, lifting his beer. “You’ll survive one weekend without your emotional support weapon.”
Amy gasps, scandalized. “Sidekick,” she snaps. “And how dare you? This bat goes everywhere I go. I can’t just abandon her.”
“Big Lil’?” Frost asks, brows lifting.
I scrub a hand down my face. “Technically, it’s Lilith.”
Frost’s head swivels to Amy. “You named your bat?”
Amy’s lips curl into an evil, satisfied grin. “You bet your ass I did.”
Chaos squints at her. “Why? Isn’t that a little juvenile?”
I groan before Amy can even inhale.
Here we go.
Amy steps closer, narrowing her eyes at him. “Why is it okay for men to name their dicks or their cars, but I name a bat, and suddenly, I’m immature?”
Chaos immediately raises his hands in surrender. “Fair point.”
I reach out and squeeze Amy’s hand, grounding her before she goes for Chaos’s kneecaps. “There’s nothing wrong with naming your bat.”
Her shoulders relax a little. “I can’t go without her,” she insists, patting the bat like it might get its feelings hurt. “Big Lil’ is my personal security. My comfort. My ride-or-die.”
“Yes, you can. Besides, I thoughtIwas your ride-or-die,” I joke.
“Hope, you’re my sister from another mister, but I can’t pick you up and swing you around to knock out people who piss me off,” she whines.
“Casino security will tackle you before we even make it to the slot machines.”
Chaos’s mouth twitches. “Honestly, I kind of want to see that.”
Amy whirls on him. “Traitor.”
Before she can fully unload, arms slide around my waist from behind. Frost presses in close, his chin hovering near my shoulder, his smile pure antagonistic.
“So,” he murmurs in my ear. “Think there’ll be strippers? Because I feel like that’s important information.”
