Page 1 of Married With Malice

PROLOGUE

LUCA

“Take these.” Creed Gentry tosses his gloves. “Before you lose all your fingers.”

His tone says he’s not backing down until I agree and there’s no time for an argument.

I don’t break stride as I shove the thick leather gloves over hands that are numb and cracked after digging through snow drifts for the past half hour.

Creed is satisfied enough to push his own hands into his coat pockets and trudge behind me.

Maybe I ought to tell him the truth, that I’d gladly leave all my fingers behind in the next snow drift if that’s the bargain to bring her back.

It’s not. Life and death aren’t negotiable.

Whoever is in charge of the universe doesn’t care that I’d offer my soul, whatever that’s worth.

It’s probably not worth much at this point. My flaws are deep and infinite. Yet if anyone is interested, I have only one wish.

I need to find my wife. I need to find her before the light disappears.

But first, I’m ready to declare war on all this fucking snow.

There’s not a single pause as the shit just keeps vomiting from the sky. There’s more snow than oxygen. You could probably drown in it. You could definitely freeze in it.

Nobody needs to tell me that time is short. I’ve understood that since the moment I realized she was gone.

“It’s my fault,” I say to the towering trees, standing rigid and indifferent to whatever human drama happens at their feet.

Icy flakes blow at a slant and the wind picks up, smothering the sound of my biggest confession.

Creed’s steps pound faster until he catches up. “Did you say something?”

This man is practically a stranger. I’ve known him and his brothers for only a day and yet they didn’t hesitate to charge straight into the storm at my side.

The sight of men confronting danger is nothing novel but I’m used to a different type of danger. TheCosa Nostraworld has a limitless appetite for dead men and it gets fed regularly.

I knew this long before I took my brother’s place as our uncle’s second-in-command. Once you’re in the fold there’s an endless set of unspoken rules. Blood is drawn without flinching, all for the sake of power or revenge.

The three Gentry brothers would likely shrug if I told them my uncle is Richie Amato. No matter who I am or where I come from, they’re out here in subzero temperatures with a blizzard bearing down because they are decent men who jump in to help when someone needs to be saved.

Men like that are worth a lot more than the men I deal with. Or the man that I am.

Creed Gentry awaits my reply and I’m envious of him. His wife, and the wives of his brothers, are waiting at the resort where they’re safe.

Meanwhile, my wife is out here somewhere on this motherfucking mountain where the temperature keeps falling and deadly night will soon fall.

The resort’s security cameras showed the rental car driving off the property two hours ago, heading for the only road that winds down the mountain.

Anni, forever stubborn and tempestuous, apparently decided to take her chances in the Colorado winter rather than spend another night with me.

Maybe she figured the road wouldn’t really be impassable.

Maybe she never saw the forecast and had no idea another storm was on the way.

She knew I thought she was still at the spa. She saw an opportunity to run. From me. From us. From what we’ve become.

And yes, that is all my fault.

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