Читать книгу Deadly Vows - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 12

Every muscle in Ford Jensen’s body tensed with anticipation as Olivia slowly turned to face him. It had been four months since he’d last seen his wife, four months that he’d spent hounding FBI agents and U.S. Marshals, trying to get a lead on Olivia’s whereabouts. He’d finally found her, and he wanted to rush forward and pull her into his arms, but he knew she wouldn’t thank him if he did. Just as he knew she wouldn’t thank him for finding her. He’d broken one too many promises, ignored her one too many times. When she’d called to tell him she’d seen a murder and that she was entering witness protection, she’d said it was for the best. A clean break.

It hadn’t been clean for Ford. It had been painful, filled with regrets and rife with a million lost opportunities.

“Ford. You shouldn’t be here,” she said quietly, her hand resting on the door of a dark blue Ford.

“But I am.”

“I’ve got some dangerous people after me. You don’t want to get caught up in my troubles.”

“I already am. I have been from the night you called to tell me you planned to disappear from my life.” He walked toward her, letting the streetlight fall on his face.

She frowned, her gaze dropping to his cheek and the ridge of scar tissue that bisected it. “The Martino family did that to you?”

“That’s not important.”

“Of course it is. We may not be together anymore, but I still care about you, and I’d hate to think that you were hurt because of me.”

“Maybe the fact that you feel that way means we should still be together.”

“I care, Ford. I’ve never pretended otherwise, but we both know it’s not enough. Pouring love into you is like pouring it into a black hole. It’s never filled and it never returns what it takes.”

“No need to hold your punches, Liv. Why not tell me exactly how you feel?” But she was right, that was exactly how it had been. Olivia giving affection and love. Ford taking it. He hadn’t meant it to be that way, hadn’t even realized it was that way until she’d walked out of their Chicago penthouse nearly fourteen months ago.

“If being blunt will get you back in your car and back in Chicago, that’s what I’ll be.”

“It won’t.” He moved toward her, searching her face, wondering about the dark circles beneath her eyes, the hollows in her cheeks. Was she eating right? Sleeping well?

“Please, Ford, don’t make this difficult. You being here has put both of us in danger. I’ve made a clean break from my old life, started a new one. I can’t have that jeopardized by your presence.”

“And you think I’m just going to walk away and leave you to face Vincent Martino’s trial alone?” he asked, knowing that was probably what she did think. He’d walked away plenty during their marriage, left her alone more times than he cared to admit. Maybe God hadn’t completely given up on Ford, because the second chance he’d been praying for was happening. A second chance to love Olivia the way she deserved to be loved, to create the home she’d often talked about. The one he’d stopped believing in the day his alcoholic father had walked out and left him and his three siblings to care for their drug-addicted mother. A home filled with love and laughter.

“You don’t have a choice. Neither do I. The U.S. Marshals have made it clear that I’m to have no contact with anyone from my previous life. Not you. Not my parents. Not my friends. Not the people I worked with. No one.”

“There’s something you and the marshals seem to have forgotten. I’m not part of your previous life. You and I are still married.”

“We’ve been separated for over a year.”

“We’ve been separated for less than four months. Or have you conveniently forgotten what happened in December.” The words were out before Ford could stop them, and he regretted them immediately.

Olivia stiffened, her eyes flashing with anger and hurt before she turned away.

“Liv—”

But she was already opening the door and sliding into her car.

He grabbed the door before she could close it. “Olivia, I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

“What way would have been right?” she asked, then sighed and shook her head. “Never mind. I’ve got to go call my contact in the marshals. He’ll want to know you’ve found me. If he doesn’t already.”

“If he doesn’t, I’m going to want to know why not.”

“There’s no need to get macho and protective, Ford. The marshals have done a great job of keeping me safe so far. I’m sure they’re not shirking their duty now.”

“Two women in witness protection have been murdered in the past few months. Someone somewhere is shirking his duty.” The fact that both women had the hair like Olivia’s had made Ford all the more desperate to find her. There was no doubt Vincent Martino’s family planned to silence Olivia. They’d nearly killed Ford trying to find out where she was. Whether or not they’d mistaken the other two women for Olivia was something the FBI and the U.S. Marshals refused to speculate on. At least in their conversations with Ford.

“Micah told me two women had been killed, but I’m not sure their deaths mean the Marshals aren’t doing their jobs.”

“Micah McGraw?” Ford had spoken to him several times, but the way Olivia said the guy’s name made him sound like an old friend rather than someone being paid to keep her safe. The surge of jealousy he felt at the thought was as unwelcome as the guilt that had been eating at him since Olivia had run from her Chicago home and disappeared into the night while he discussed a real estate venture with an associate. He’d hung up the phone and tried to follow, but she’d been long gone before he’d managed to get out the front door. If he’d ignored his cell phone when it rang, if he’d refused to take the call, Olivia wouldn’t have been out walking beside the river when Vincent Martino committed cold-blooded murder.

“Yes. Micah is my contact, and he’s not going to be happy to know I hung around chatting with you when I should have been home packing. Thanks for caring enough to search for me, Ford, but as you can see, I’m fine.” She offered a quick smile, started to shut the door, but he held it open, leaning in so he could look in her eyes.

“I’m not walking out of your life, Olivia.”

“Why not? You were happy enough to let me walk out of yours fourteen months ago. Besides, our marriage has been over for a long time. What happened after Christmas was a mistake. It’s best if we both forget it.” She pulled the door from his hand, the sharp retort as she slammed it echoing through the parking lot.

Maybe Olivia was right. Maybe it was best if they both forgot what had happened in December. If they moved on with their lives, moved forward with the divorce that had seemed so inevitable when she’d packed a bag and walked out of their penthouse.

Maybe, but Ford didn’t think so.

It took him several seconds to cross the parking lot and get into his car. By the time he started the engine, Olivia was pulling out onto the street, her blue Ford disappearing from view. He followed, thankful that they were driving through the small town of Pine Bluff rather than Chicago. No way would he have been able to keep her in sight otherwise. As much as he’d always loved city life, he had to admit there were benefits to the small towns and rural communities he’d visited during his search for Olivia. Slower pace of life, quieter atmospheres, people who noticed what was going on in their communities and who cared. If not for them, Ford wouldn’t have known he was on the right track when he began searching for Olivia in Montana. The fact that two women who resembled Olivia had been murdered in the state had been reason enough to go there, but it wasn’t until he’d shown Olivia’s photograph to a few people in Billings who’d recognized her that Ford knew he should keep searching there.

Olivia pulled into the driveway of a 1920s bungalow, and Ford parked behind her, getting out of his car as she hurried to her front door. There was no doubt that she’d rather he leave, but Ford couldn’t. There was too much history between them, too much love buried beneath layers of resentment and pain. He wasn’t willing to give that up any more than he was willing to let Olivia face the danger she was in alone.

“Go home, Ford.” Olivia shoved the key in the lock as he stepped onto the porch, her long dark hair falling across her face and hiding her expression.

“I can’t.” It was the truth.

He’d nearly been killed the day after Olivia went into witness protection. Martino’s men had been brutal in their questioning. When he’d woken in the hospital, his only thought had been finding Olivia and making sure she was safe. It had taken him months to do it, but he’d finally succeeded, and there was no way he was going to walk away.

“Sure you can. Turn around, get back in the car and drive to Chicago.”

“And forget that you’re in danger? Forget that Chicago’s most well-known crime family wants you dead?”

“You don’t have to forget anything. You just have to remember that we’re nothing to each other.” She glanced over her shoulder as she stepped into the house, her expression hard, her gaze steely.

What had happened to the twenty-year-old with dreams in her eyes? The one who’d laughed when he’d nearly knocked her over while hurrying to an accounting class? She’d been dressed for ballet, her hair in a tight bun, a knit dress hugging her slender frame. Ford had picked up the books that had spilled from her arms, looked into her eyes and decided that being late for accounting class wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

“Nothing? You used to tell me I was everything to you.”

“You were. That was the problem. You were everything to me, and I was—”

Secondary.

She didn’t say the word, but Ford knew she was thinking it. Hadn’t he said it to her the day she’d asked for a divorce and walked out of his life?

My career is priority. Everything else is secondary.

The words seemed to hang in the air as Ford followed Olivia into the house. The walls were sage-green, the floor dark wood that was faded and nicked with time. There was little furniture in the living room. Just a love seat that faced the fireplace and a coffee table that held a few magazines and a book. Olivia grabbed the book as she walked past, shoving it into the table’s only drawer.

A romance novel?

Probably.

He’d laughed when they’d been dating and he’d seen her reading one, but she’d just smiled and said romance was the perfect escape from the mundane world. He’d told her that a world with her in it could never be mundane.

When had he forgotten that?

“Olivia—”

She looked over her shoulder and met his gaze, her eyes empty of emotion. “I need to call Micah.”

“I have a better idea.” He grabbed her hand before she could lift the phone. “How about we get in my car, drive to the nearest airport and fly to Paris? I’ve got a friend there who is willing to put us up until the trial.”

“If we live that long.”

“All we have to do is make it to the airport and onto a plane. There’s no way the FBI will let any of the Martinos out of the country.”

“They won’t need to. The Martinos have enough money to hire an army to come after me. And they won’t need an army. All it will take is one person to get the job done. If you were thinking clearly, you’d realize that.”

She was right. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Hadn’t been thinking clearly since she’d called to tell him she was being put in protective custody and they’d never see each other again. “So, check in with Micah. Tell him I want to fly you out of the country. It seems to me the farther you are from the Martinos, the better.”

The phone rang before Olivia could respond, and she answered, turning away from Ford as she spoke.

“Hello? Yes. He is,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and frowning in Ford’s direction. He didn’t even bother pretending that he wasn’t listening.

“I know. All right. I’ll be ready.” She hung up, and turned to face Ford again. “I’m going to be relocated.” Thanks to you.

She didn’t say the last, but Ford could see the accusation in her eyes.

“I’d say I was sorry I found you, but that would be a lie.”

“Since when did lying bother you?” she retorted, the words more resigned than venomous.

“I’ve never lied to you, Livy. Not before and not now.”

“Maybe not.” She offered a tired smile. “Look, I’ve got to pack and you’ve got to leave.” She walked to the front door, her movements graceful and fluid. Even if he hadn’t known she’d studied dance for twelve years, he would have thought she was a dancer. She carried herself with understated confidence that he’d always found alluring.

“I’ll leave when you do.”

“You don’t have to stick around, Ford. The marshals will be here any minute.”

“Maybe I should rephrase that. I’ll leave with you. I didn’t spend all this time searching for you to let you disappear again. Wherever you go, I’m coming.”

“You can’t.”

“Of course I can,” he responded. He’d been offered a place in the witness protection program after Martino’s men had nearly killed him. When he’d learned he wouldn’t be placed with Olivia, he’d refused. Finding her had been his first priority. His only one. Now his priority was making sure he didn’t lose her again. No one, not the Martinos, not the FBI and not the U.S. Marshals would keep him from doing that.

“So let’s say you can. That doesn’t mean I want you to.”

“You’d rather I let you face this alone?”

“I’d rather you’d stayed in Chicago. I’m sure your business is suffering without you there.”

“I don’t care about my business. I care about you.”

She laughed, the sound short and sharp. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“Olivia…”

A quick rap at the door interrupted his words, and Ford was almost glad. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many ways he’d imagined saying them. Somehow, though, none of them seemed like enough. Not to convey what he felt or to express his sorrow for the pain he’d caused Olivia.

She started toward the door, but Ford put a hand on her arm. “I’ll get it.”

He was a foot away when the door swung open and two men stepped inside. Tall and dark-haired, the older of the two flashed his badge. “I’m U.S. Marshal Sebastian James.”

“Ford Jensen.”

“And I’m Olivia Jarrod,” Olivia said, offering her hand to the tall, dark-haired marshal as if having marshals barge into her home was an everyday occurrence. For all Ford knew, it was.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Jarrod. Marshal McGraw said he’d contacted you about relocation?”

“That’s right.”

“Good. You’ve got ten minutes to pack a bag. Then we’ll head out. Mr. Jensen, you’ll be going with Marshal Louis. He’s going to escort you to Billings where you’ll be briefed to enter the witness protection program.”

“Sorry, but I’m staying with my wife.”

“Wife? You two are separated, right?” The second of the two men spoke up, his gaze shooting from Ford to Olivia and back again.

“We are,” Olivia said.

“We were.”

“Sorry to have to break off the discussion, but we’ve got to get moving. Headquarters wants you both out of Pine Bluff. The sooner the better.” Marshal James smiled but there was a hardness to his expression that Ford didn’t miss. He seemed on edge, his gaze darting from one corner of the room to another as if he expected to find danger hiding there.

“You think the Martinos know Olivia is here?” Ford asked, his muscles tensing at the thought. The men they’d sent to question him about Olivia had been more than willing to murder to get what they wanted. That knowledge had driven Ford from Chicago to Atlanta, from there to Maryland and finally to Montana following leads from the private investigative firm he’d hired to help him with the search.

“If you found her, someone else might. Better to relocate now than regret that we didn’t tomorrow.”

“I just need to pack a few things, and I’ll be ready to go,” Olivia said, cutting into the conversation and stepping toward the hall.

“I’ll give you a hand.” Ford followed, ignoring the hard look she shot in his direction.

“Thanks, but I’ve been packing for myself for a long time.”

“An extra set of hands will get it done more quickly, and I agree with the marshals. The sooner we all get out of here the happier I’ll be.”

“I’ll work more quickly without a distraction.”

“Is that all I am?” he asked quietly so that only Olivia could hear.

“We’re in a hurry, Ford. I don’t have time for word games or deep discussions about what you are to me.”

She was right. They didn’t have time to hash things out, but they would. There were things he needed to say, promises he still needed to keep. He’d been given a second chance. He wouldn’t waste it. “Go ahead and pack. I’ll wait here.”

She nodded and disappeared into a room at the head of the hall. He wanted to stand in the threshold, watch her pack and assure himself that she wasn’t going to disappear the way she had in December, but there’d been too many times in their marriage when he’d disregarded her feelings and ignored her requests. He wouldn’t do it now.

“Mr. Jensen, I’m going to put in a call to our Billings office. We may be able to get the okay to move you and Ms. Jarrod together. I can’t promise anything, though.” Marshal James pulled a cell phone from his pocket.

“It doesn’t matter what the Billings office says, I’m going with Olivia.”

“Look, I understand how you feel, but—”

Glass shattered and something exploded, the living room filling with smoke and flames. Thrown backward by the force of the explosion, Ford slammed into the wall, the breath forced from his lungs. If he was hurt, he didn’t feel it. All he felt was the panicked need to get to Olivia, to make sure she was alright. He scrambled to his feet, weaving a little as he moved into the hall.

“Olivia!” He shouted, the words lost in the crackle and hiss of the fire that was spreading toward him.

Olivia raced from the room, her face a pale oval in the thickening gloom. “What happened? Where are the marshals?”

“I don’t know, but we’ve got to get out of here. Is there a back door?”

“Through the kitchen.”

“Come on then,” he grabbed her hand, tugging her past hot flames and into the kitchen. He’d never been a praying man, had never believed in anything but his own strength and determination, but over the past few months he’d started doing what he’d never thought he would, asking for a miracle. He’d gotten it. He’d found Olivia. Safe. Alive. Was it too much to ask for more?

Please, just let me get her out of here.

He pulled her through the kitchen, opened the back door, inhaling cool, fresh air.

“Ford, no,” Olivia shouted. “They might be out there. Let’s wait for the marshals. They’ll know what to do.”

The marshals.

Ford hadn’t seen either since the explosion.

Were they alive?

He couldn’t leave the house without being sure. Couldn’t abandon two men to the flames.

“Wait here. I’ll go see if I can find them,” he said, stepping away from the door and the sweet promise of escape.

“You can’t go back in there. The smoke is too thick. You’ll never be able to find your way through it.”

“I can’t leave two men to die. Give me two minutes. If I’m not back by then, you’re going to have to make a run for it.”

“No!”

“I love you, Livy. I always have.” He pressed a kiss to her lips and sprinted out of the kitchen and into the thickening smoke, the words echoing in his ears, reminding him of all the things he should have said, all the time he should have spent. He’d worked hard, made millions of dollars in hundreds of real estate deals, but he’d lost the only thing he’d ever truly valued.

Lost, but found again.

He couldn’t die. Wouldn’t die. Not when Olivia might still need him.

He dropped to his knees, smoke stinging his eyes and lungs and crawled back into the living room, praying that he would make it back to Olivia before the flames consumed the house and everything in it.