Deadly Vows (10 page)

“You want to pray?”

“I keep telling you I’ve changed, Livy. When are you going to start believing it?”

She didn’t answer, just closed her eyes, his hand wrapped around hers, connecting them as Ford offered thanks for their food.

She pulled away as soon as he finished, her heart beating hard and heavy in her chest. The eggs were light and fluffy, and she scooped up a bite, trying to swallow some down, but the bitter taste of regret tainted them, and all Olivia tasted was her own heartache.

Maybe Ford
had
changed.

Maybe he really did want to make another go at their marriage.

But he didn’t want their baby.

And that was something that would never change.

“Don’t look so sad, Livy. This will all be over in a month. We can settle things, then. For now, let’s just take it a day at a time,” Ford said, covering her hand with his.

His palm was warm against her knuckles, his skin rough
from years of kayaking. When they’d first married, she’d wanted to kayak with him, to embrace his hobby with the same passion with which she embraced Ford.

He hadn’t wanted her there.

Had needed his space, he’d said. Needed time to think and plan.

She slid her hand out from under his, took another bite of eggs, forcing herself to chew and swallow and breathing a sigh of relief as Jessie walked into the room, smiling and cheerful despite the early hour.

“Good morning! Looks like we’re having breakfast. Any left for me?” She asked as she approached the table.

“I made plenty,” Ford responded, his eyes still fixed on Olivia.

Jessie must have sensed the tension in the room, she paused with a piece of toast halfway to her mouth, her gaze shooting from Olivia to Ford and back again. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Olivia said, Ford’s “yes” nearly covering the sound of her reply.

“Well, since you can’t agree, and I’m hungry, I’ll take the lady’s response and stick around.” She grabbed a plate, tossed the toast onto it and piled it with eggs and bacon. “We’ll go out for some fresh air once the sun comes up, but I’m afraid my supervisor doesn’t want you out of my sight, Olivia.”

“Your supervisor? You mean Jackson McGraw?”

“The one and only.” She settled down onto a chair and dug into her food.

“Can I take that to mean I’m free to come and go as I please?” Ford questioned, frowning when Jessie shook her head.

“No. It just means that the marshals are in charge of you, and I’m in charge of Olivia.”

“I’m in charge of myself, Agent…?”

“Parker. Call me Jessie. And we’re all in charge of ourselves, but keeping the two of you safe means limiting your amount of time away from this house. We’ve got two witnesses already dead. We can’t risk losing a third.”

“Olivia isn’t just a witness. You realize that, right?”

“If you’re asking if we see her as a person rather than just a means to an end, the answer is yes,” Jessie responded, apparently unperturbed by Ford’s questions.

“I’d like to know what your plans are for keeping her safe. How many agents are in place here? How far is backup if you need it?”

“Ford, I’m sure they’ve got everything under control,” Olivia cut in. She’d been handling the FBI and U.S. Marshals for over three months without any help from him, and there was no way she planned to let Ford take control of things now.

“We do, but I don’t mind a few questions. I’d be asking them myself if I were in your situation. We’ve got two marshals stationed outside the house. One inside. Then there’s me. Backup is as close as a phone call, so if something does happen, we’re prepared.”

A phone rang and Jessie answered, cutting off further discussion.

Olivia was glad. She didn’t need Ford to look out for her. She was perfectly capable of doing it herself. Perfectly capable of asking questions and getting answers, of making sure that the marshals and FBI were working hard to keep her safe.

She didn’t need it, but it felt good to have someone else fighting for her.

And that was a dangerous place to be.

She’d spent too many years of her life wanting something Ford couldn’t give. Too many years wanting to be more than an afterthought in their relationship. All that had gotten her was heartache. She needed to remember that, because if she didn’t, she’d end up exactly where she’d been before. Married and miserable. Only this time, she’d have a baby to worry about.

Sick with the thought, she stood, emptying her plate into the trash can and hurrying from the room, praying that the trial would come quickly so that she could put the past and all its disappointments behind her.

F
ord followed Olivia from the room, reaching the landing just as her door slammed shut. He didn’t bother to knock. There was no way she’d open it. She needed space and time to think. He respected that, but he didn’t like it. When he’d woken in the hospital after being attacked by Martino’s men, he’d realized two things—that he needed to get right with God and that he needed to get right with Olivia.

He hadn’t bargained for a baby, but if that came with the territory, he’d have to deal with it. No matter how much he didn’t want to.

Deal with it?

It’s not a problem. It’s a child. An innocent life that needs to be nurtured and loved.

The thoughts circled through his head as he walked into his room and looked out the window. He’d been trying for the past few hours to stop thinking about the baby Olivia carried, but it was impossible. As much as the thought of being a father terrified him, he couldn’t stop picturing a dark-haired, blue-eyed little girl smiling up at him with a gummy infant grin.

And each time he pictured that little girl, his heart
jumped, his stomach churned and he knew that he would do whatever it took to make sure she was safe.

Or
he.

Maybe the baby was a boy. A little guy with his mother’s strength of character. Maybe the kid would like kayaking and hiking.

And maybe Ford would disappoint the child the same way his father had disappointed him. Maybe he’d abandon his son or daughter, leaving the kid to fend for himself.

He frowned and ran a hand over his hair. He needed a haircut. He needed to check in with his real estate firm. He needed to do a lot of things, but all he wanted to do was knock on Olivia’s door, walk into her room and sit with her for a while.

A while?

He’d sit with her for an eternity if she gave him the chance.

The problem was, she wouldn’t.

She’d made that clear when she’d walked out fourteen months ago. He’d disappointed her one too many times, put business needs before hers to the point where she no longer believed he loved her.

Words weren’t enough, she’d said. What she’d wanted was time.

Ford hadn’t thought he could give it to her.

And then he’d almost died and everything had changed.

Time rather than money had become the thing on which his dreams and hopes were resting. Time to make amends to Olivia, to rebuild their relationship, to live a life that was worth more than what he had in his bank account.

He shook his head, staring out into pre-dawn. The tree he’d heard brushing against the glass the previous night, hid the yard from view. Thick-limbed and strong it had
probably been there longer than the house. Ford imagined kids opening the window and climbing into the branches, reveling in their childhood in a way Ford had never been able to. That’s what he wanted for his child. Not a life spent worrying about where the next meal would come from or whether or not his parents were coming home after a long night of partying.

He opened the window, leaned out to inhale fresh spring air. The tree had bloomed with fresh growth, the bright green leaves rustling in the breeze. The world still slumbered, and the quiet neighborhood seemed a place of safety.

But something seemed to lurk beneath the silence, something ugly and dangerous. Ford stilled, cocking his head to the side and listening. The morning was still and filled with an air of restless anticipation. As if something were about to happen. Something that Ford didn’t think he was going to like.

He frowned, searching the side yard below the window. What little he could see was empty of life.

“Get over yourself. There’s nothing out there,” Ford muttered, but he leaned farther out the window anyway. He couldn’t see the front or backyard, but the neighbor’s yard was empty. A fence separated the two properties, and Ford wondered if it had been there before the feds decided to use the property as a safe house. It was at least six feet tall and made of what looked to be galvanized wood. It would be hard to climb, but not impossible. Had one of the Martino family’s henchmen already figured that out?

He frowned again. He hadn’t survived in the business world by ignoring his intuition, and his intuition was shouting that something was wrong.

He moved away from the window and stepped back
into the sitting area. Marshal Green glanced his way and offered a quick nod. “Everything okay?”

“Just wondering who’s guarding the house.”

“Agent Parker and I are inside. We’ve got two men outside and one patrolling the street.”

“And that’s enough manpower?”

“Should be plenty. Why do you ask?”

“Just a feeling.”

“What kind of feeling?”

“That it’s too quiet outside.”

“It’s natural to be jumpy in situations like this, Mr. Jensen, but we’ve got plenty of manpower and plenty of protection for you and Ms. Jarrod.”

“How about you just call outside and make sure?”

“How about you not tell me how to do my job?” The marshal asked with a smile that was anything but pleasant.

“Look, I’m not trying to cause problems, but the Martinos already found Olivia once. There’s no reason to think they won’t find her again.”

“Sure there is. This time, we’ve got a specialized task force guarding her whereabouts.”

“I’d still feel better if you’d checked with the people outside,” he said, gritting his teeth in frustration.

“Tell you what. I’ll go downstairs and check in with Agent Parker. We’ll have our men do a perimeter check, but I can assure you that everything is exactly how it should be.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. I was getting bored sitting here anyway,” the marshal said, standing and stretching before disappearing down the steps.

Maybe Ford should wait for his report, but he’d never been good at waiting while other people acted. Especially
not when something important was at stake. He knocked on Olivia’s door.

“Liv?”

“Go away, Ford. I’m not in the mood for chatting.”

“I don’t want to chat.”

“Then what do you want?” she asked, pulling open the door. Her eyes were shadowed, her skin almost translucent with fatigue.

Ford wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay.

Of course, if he did that, she’d shove him away and slam the door in his face, so he cut to the chase. “I was thinking maybe you should move your stuff to my room.”

“What? Why?”

“I’ve got a feeling something isn’t quite right around here. It’s too quiet.”

“It’s not quite dawn. Of course it’s quiet.”

“It’s a different kind of quiet than that, Olivia. Look, there’s a tree outside the window of my room. If we’ve got to get out quickly, it may be a means of escape.”

“A tree? I’ve never climbed a tree in my li—”

Somewhere below, glass shattered, cutting off Olivia’s words. She froze, her eyes wide with fear, and Ford grabbed her hand, dragging her into his room and slamming the door.

“What was that?” Olivia cried, clutching his hand.

“I don’t know, but I don’t think it was anything good.” He locked the door, pressed his ear to the wood and waited.

“Do you hear anything?”

“No.” And that worried him. Shouldn’t a marshal or Agent Parker be checking in to let them know that everything was okay?

“Maybe someone dropped a glass.”

“It sounded like a lot more was shattering than a glass,” he responded. It had sounded like a window, but the only thing Ford could think of that would shatter double pane glass was a bullet. He hadn’t heard one fired.

Then again, men like the ones after Olivia might use silencers.

The thought filled him with cold dread, and he tugged Olivia toward the window. “We need to get out of here.”

“Maybe we should go see what happened. Or wait here until someone comes to let us know what’s going on.”

“You mean wait here to die.”

“No, I mean that I can’t believe we’ve been found again. Micah said—”

“What he said was that they’d do everything they could to keep us safe. That if the assassins got to us it would be because the marshals had given everything to keep it from happening and failed.”

Olivia’s face went pale at his words, and she glanced at the door, her eyes wide with fear. “Do you really think that’s what’s happening?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think we should wait around to find out. Once we—”

He never finished.

Something slammed into the door with enough force to shake it in its hinges.

“Move!” Ford hissed. “Out into the tree. Don’t go down. Go across to the yard next door. We’ll go down there.”

She didn’t argue, just slipped out the window, scrambling into the sheltering branches of the tree. Ford followed, balancing on a thick limb, watching as Olivia moved from branch to branch. Graceful. Strong. Confident despite the terror she must be feeling.

Behind him, something slammed into the bedroom door again. It wouldn’t take long for the door to be forced from its hinges; for their assassin to rush in.
Assassins.
There had to be more than one if they’d taken down the marshals and agent stationed inside.

Please God, help me get Olivia out of this safely. Please, keep her alive. Keep the baby alive.

The prayer echoed in his mind as he maneuvered across thick branches. He wanted to believe that God heard. That He would step in and offer help, but faith wasn’t easy for Ford. He was used to planning and doing. Not waiting and hoping. Until Olivia had walked out of their Chicago penthouse, he’d seen no need to be anything different.

Then she’d left, and everything had changed.

The empty penthouse seemed to mock his busy schedule and careful plans. Each time he walked into it, he was reminded of what he’d lost and why he’d lost it.

Maybe that’s why he’d gone to church. To find out what it was that had drawn Olivia there. To see if the faith that she’d spoken of with such confidence was something he could as easily attain.

But faith wasn’t the same as belief. It meant giving up and letting go. It meant trusting in the invisible to deal with the visible. It meant releasing control, and that was something Ford had never been good at.

But he’d get good at it if it meant Olivia would live.

A few feet in front, she began her descent, her feet searching for purchase as she slowly moved toward the ground. Behind him the sound of pounding continued, the sharp crack of wood telling Ford that he and Olivia were running out of time.

He scrambled after her, wood scraping his hands, heart pounding, the prayer still chanting through his mind, faith an elusive dream he wasn’t sure he could reach, but that he knew he had no choice but to keep trying for.