Chapter 23 Frost
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 is exactly that. 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 a toy 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.”
Helping kids isn’t exactly the worst way to spend a night.
I crack my neck and roll my shoulders. “Alright, brother. Show us where you need us.”
Vegas snaps his fingers dramatically. “Casino, you owe me twenty bucks. I told you he’d agree.”
Casino grunts. “You said he’d smile, too.”
I glare at both of them. I’m used to them making bets, but I won’t lie and say it’s annoying as hell when they’re using you as a means of entertainment.
Vegas nods. “Yeah, okay, fair point.”
Colt laughs again. “Let’s get this shit done.”
We head into the main room where stacks of toys, boxed meals, and wrapped gifts cover every available surface. It looks like Santa’s workshop got drunk and exploded everywhere.
Vegas gestures around. “We gotta load the trucks, deliver to three different neighborhoods, and help out at the community center. Think you two can manage?”
Colt and I share a look. “This everything we’re working with?” Colt asks.
“This is it,” Vegas confirms.
Colt rolls up his sleeves. “Let’s get started.”
For the next few hours, we load boxes, organize toys, check names off lists, fix a busted dolly, and help Vegas haul in a massive wooden donation bin someone idiotically left outside overnight.
At one point, while I’m lifting a stack of stuffed animals, my phone buzzes in my back pocket with a message from Paige.
A picture from Hope fills the screen. She’s in the clubhouse kitchen, covered in flour. Her head is thrown back in laughter. My chest warms instantly, knowing she’s making herself at home.
Colt glances at the screen. “She’s cute.”
“She’s mine,” I say automatically.
He smirks. “Whipped.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
I can’t help the smile that stretches across my face, and for once, it doesn’t feel like a weakness.
Vegas walks past and peeks at the photo. “Aww… Frost’s heart is growing like the Grinch.”
I flip him off.
He grins. “You’d better get back quick, brother. Women who bake in your kitchen? That’s wifey behavior.”
My stomach tightens, not in a bad way but in a dangerous, hopeful way.
Colt slaps my back. “Come on, lover boy. We got more toys.”
I slip my phone away, heart lighter than when I arrived. This might not be what I had in mind when we took off this morning, but the kids need us, and deep in my soul, I know Hope will be waiting for me when I return.
By the time we finish loading the last box for delivery tomorrow, I’m exhausted.
I scroll through my phone for the thousandth time, staring at the picture Paige sent earlier—her smile soft, her hair messy, and flour on her face.
I want to be there with her, not here doing toy deliveries in Vegas, even if it's for a good cause. Mind made up, I hit the call button.
“Hi,” Hope answers, her husky voice damn near brings me to my knees.
Fuck, I missed that voice.
“You in bed?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. I can hear the quiet behind her.
“Yeah,” she says. “Everyone went to sleep hours ago. Amy took digs at Chaos all day. Trying to keep them apart was an adventure.”
I huff a laugh. “Sounds right.”
There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again, softer this time. “How’s Vegas?”
I look around the empty lot, the neon flickering off the club’s metal siding. “Shitty.”
She laughs lightly. “That bad?”
“It’s not home,” I admit. “That’s the bad part. What’d you do today?”
“Oh, you know…” I can practically hear the grin in her voice. “This and that. I did some light baking and tortured your club brothers, mostly Chaos.
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “Hope.”
“What? He deserved it.”
“For what?”
“Okay, he didn’t necessarily deserve it, but Amy’s right. He’s fun to fuck with,” she admits.
I actually laugh at that. “You’re evil.”
“You like it.”
I drag a hand over my jaw. “Yeah, I do.”
She exhales softly, and for a moment, neither of us speaks. I can hear the faint rustle of her sheets. I picture her curled up, wearing one of my oversized shirts. My cock jerks to life, imagining her in my bed for the rest of our lives.
“You, okay?” she asks quietly.
“I am now.”
There’s a little hitch in her breath. “Frost…”
I close my eyes. “Today sucked. All I could think about was getting back to you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, gentle but firm.
“I know,” I admit.
“Hawk told me you were helping Saint’s Outlaws with their toy drive,” she says softly. “I’m proud of you.”
That hits deeper than she knows. “Feels weird hearing someone say that.”
“Well, get used to it.” Her tone brightens a little. “Also, I may or may not have baked you cookies. Although, Amy and your brothers stole half of them.”
“That tracks.”
“Frost?” she whispers.
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“Come home safe.”
Something inside me pulls tight, fierce, and protective. “Always.”
“I’ll be here,” she says. “You come back to me.”
I grit my teeth because her words hit hard. “I will.”
“Goodnight, Frost.”
I smile into the darkness. “Goodnight, Hope.”