Chapter 3

Luca wakes me at dawn.

“Get dressed. We’re going to Georgia.”

I pull the blanket over my head. “Honey, I just remembered. That chapel collapsed.”

“We’ll find another one.”

So much for that excuse.

While he buttons his cuffs, I pocket a few stolen bills. If we pass the sandwich stand downstairs, I can leave them with the woman who runs it. Some local thugs wrecked her cart last week.

Luca catches me counting the crumpled notes. “Is that all you have?”

He pulls a thick stack of hundreds from his wallet.

Normally, I’d take the money and run. Right now, I don’t dare touch it.

“You don’t have to—”

“You’re my wife.” He presses the cash into my hand. “You shouldn’t have to live like this.”

I take it. At least I’ll die with money in my pocket.

Before I can try another excuse to delay our trip, a woman shouts outside.

“Where’s Luca?”

The door flies open, and Bianca DeLuca points at the cash.

“So you’re the fraud pretending to be his wife. Now you’re stealing his money too?”

I start to put it down.

“I gave it to her.” Luca takes my hand. “Watch your mouth.”

“She’s been using your name to con people for three years. I checked!”

I shrink behind him.

“Look at her hiding! She knows she’s guilty.”

“I’m hiding because you’re scaring me.”

“Shut up.”

Gladly. Staying alive comes first.

Bianca turns back to Luca. “You know me. You know how I feel about you. You said—”

“I’ve lost my memory. The last five years are gone.”

“Then you should trust me, not her!”

“She says she’s my wife. I believe her.”

That’s it? That’s all it takes?

Bianca jabs a finger toward the custom handgun on his nightstand.

“If you’re his wife, what does he call that?”

I’ve spent my life trying to stay away from guns. How would I know what he calls his?

“Frost?” I venture.

“Wrong.”

“Frost,” Luca says. “That sounds right.”

“Luca, that’s not—”

“I told you I don’t remember. I’ll take my wife’s word for it.” He calls softly, “Frost.”

A blue light blinks on the gun.

I stare at it, my mouth still open.

Bianca yanks a knife from beneath her jacket. “Let’s see if you live long enough to keep calling yourself his wife.”

Steel flashes.

Before I can move, Luca is in front of me. He catches her wrist, wrenches the knife free, and sends it clattering across the floor.

“She’s my wife.”

Bianca cradles her wrist against her chest.

“Anyone who touches her,” he says, his voice dropping, “has to go through me.”

“You’d turn on me for her?” Her voice shakes.

“You attacked her.”

He doesn’t raise his voice. Bianca backs away anyway.

Luca turns to me and gently takes my hand.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m here.”

I clutch his fingers before I can stop myself. The knife lies on the floor, and I’m still waiting for the pain.

Bianca doesn’t scare me anymore.

The man holding my hand does.