“Insurance.”
I raise a brow. “Insurance?”
I reach into the bag and pull out a beautiful white sash with the wordBRIDEwritten in rhinestones across it. Amy helps me get it situated just right across my chest.
“Thank you.” I tug her into my arms. “Explain to me how this is insurance, though.”
Amy grins. “With as sexy as you look, this will let everyone know you’re taken and keep Frost from beating everyone to a pulp.”
“So, in other words, if you can’t beat anyone, neither can Frost.”
Amy taps her temple. “It’s like you’re in here or something.”
I laugh as we gather our purses and head to the elevator. “Let’s go party with some Outlaws.”
Saints Outlaws’ clubhouse pulses with music, laughter, and the unmistakable hum of MC energy when we arrive. Vegas greets us like family as the men slap each other’s backs, and his club brothers hand out beers.
There’s a band set up in the corner, and the room is thumping from the bass. I drift away from Frost’s side but make sure I’m in his line of sight, per his request. The club knows I’m off limits, but there are outsiders here who won’t necessarily care.
I watch Frost across the room, laughing with Chaos, beer in his hand. He looks so confident and comfortable here. He’s also completely unaware of all the women’s eyes targeting their sights on him.
One of the club girls slides in close, all curves pressing herself against his side. I stiffen but am unable to move my legs toward him.
Frost steps back immediately, holding up a hand. “Not interested. I’m getting married.”
I immediately exhale the breath I was holding… until she laughs like it’s a challenge.
Amy appears at my side, eyes narrowing. “Oh, no, she didn’t.”
The girl reaches for Frost again. Amy moves fast before I can stop her.
“Oh, shit.”
CHAPTER 3
FROST
“You’re not married yet, handsome.”
When we arrived, Vegas explained that his club members and club whores were told that Hope and I were off limits. Hell, everyone knows we’re here to celebrate our upcoming wedding.
I take another step back. “Doesn’t matter. I won’t cheat on my woman.”
“Honey,” she purrs as she steps closer. “It’s a bachelor party. Haven’t you ever heard the old saying, ‘What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’?”
She reaches for my chest again, and I'm about two seconds from being a complete asshole about it when I hear the unmistakable sound of heels marching toward us. I barely have a chance to turn my head in the direction of where Hope is coming from, except it isn’t Hope, it’s Amy.
“Oh, fuck,” I mumble.
I don’t have any time to react before Amy’s hand disappears into her purse and emerges with a mini-Louisville Slugger bat.
Crack.
Amy's mini bat connects with the girl's kneecap with surgical precision. The sound echoes through the clubhouse, andsuddenly, despite the music still thumping, the room goes silent. Every conversation dies, and all heads turn our way.
The girl crumples with a shriek, grabbing her knee. “What the fuck!”
I don't move. Instead, I take a pull of my beer and watch Amy stand there, bat resting casually on her shoulder like she's waiting for her turn in the batting cage.
