Page 1 of Married with Mayhem

PROLOGUE

MONTE

The End of Summer…

The carnival carries on like a sick joke.

The lights flash, the Ferris Wheel spins, the shrieking laughter spikes.

There might be a person or two, sitting way up high and scanning the night scene, who sees there’s something happening in the parking lot.

Out here, the screaming has died down and people who mean nothing to me have collected at the corners of my vision. They stare and they gasp and they raise their phones to record someone else’s tragedy.

Some will look at us and feel deeply sorry. Others will just be glad that whatever terrible drama is unfolding has nothing to do with them.

“They hurt you,” says my girl with soft sorrow and I finally notice the bloody hole in my arm where a bullet entered. It’s still there, having committed its primary evil before ending its flight in the fleshy muscles three inches above my left elbow.

If only that was the worst of the damage.

If only it hadn’t passed all the way through her body first.

If only…

A new noise tears into the night. An urgent wail of sirens rises and draws closer.

“They’re coming,” I assure her. “Stay with me. You’ll be just fine.”

“Stand back,” thunders the gravelly voice of a man who sounds like the type used to being in charge. He’s assigned himself to crowd control.

The curious gawkers get waved into the background. The man stands head and shoulders above the others and turns his head. The deep lines carved into his face show he’s done a lot of hard living and he’s probably witnessed worse sights than this. But his mouth still turns down and sympathy softens his sharp eyes.

“They’ll get through in a minute,” he says. “Hang on.”

I nod and curl my arms around her body as tenderly as I can for now. The shirt I pressed to the wound in her chest is already soaked through.

She’s losing too much blood. There’s no telling how much damage the bullet did when it tore through her. She needs to be taken from me in order to have a chance.

And I know I won’t be allowed to go where she’s going.

The dead man sprawled on the ground a short distance away has made sure of that. I haven’t looked at him since he fell. There will be questions and the people asking those questions won’t be willing to wait for answers.

This doesn’t matter. They can keep me if they want. They can throw me in a fucking subterranean dungeon and lose the key forever if that’s part of the deal to save her.

“Monte?” Her eyelashes flutter. “Will you promise me something?”

Hot tears roll down my cheeks but I force an upbeat tone into my voice. “Anything, cupcake. You name it.”

Slowly, her eyelids pry themselves all the way open. Even this tiny feat is a struggle for her and yet she uses her failing strength to give me a smile anyway. “Can I have your last name? As if I really am your wife?”

The air in my lungs feels like it’s been replaced with cement.

“Youaremy wife, Sabrina. You have been all along.”

“Good,” she whispers. “For once, I saved you.”

I touch her soft cheek. No agony can compare to this.

Yet even now, in the darkest of hours, I know I have plenty of company. Millions of hearts have been broken and millions more will be broken still.

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