Deadly Vows (8 page)

“I was thinking it was a little rustic,” Jessie responded, stepping into the bathroom and pulling open a medicine cabinet that hung above the sink. “They did manage to remember toothpaste, toothbrush and soap, so that’s good. We can send someone out to grab anything else you need tomorrow. The house is safe, but stay away from the windows. Just in case.”

“I will.”

“Good. Like I said, holler if you need anything,” she stepped out into the hall, offering a quick smile and wave before she shut the door.

Olivia dropped down onto the bed, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and the little voice in her head that kept asking why Ford hadn’t been allowed to follow her into the house.

Trying.

Failing.

Was the car still in the garage? Was Ford still in it? Would he be driven off somewhere, put through a briefing that would prepare him to go into witness protection and then sent off to another state to begin a new life without Olivia?

It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.

There’d been so many times during the past fourteen
months when she’d longed to see Ford, to talk to him, to be wrapped in his strong arms. For twelve of her thirty-three years, he’d been part of her life, and being separated from him had been more painful than anything she’d ever experienced. When she’d walked out of their Chicago penthouse, she’d felt as if part of her heart had been ripped out.

But staying had seemed so much more difficult than leaving.

Playing second fiddle to Ford’s work, giving up her own dreams to accommodate his, in the end, losing herself for the sake of her marriage hadn’t worked. She’d had to leave or she risked a slow fade into the ugly morass of resentment. Eventually, hate.

Toward herself for putting up with Ford’s indifference.

Toward Ford for
being
indifferent.

She stood, knowing she needed to put Ford out of her mind. Thinking about him and their past wouldn’t accomplish anything. She pulled open the dresser drawers, eyeing the clothes that someone had placed there, but Olivia didn’t have the energy to change out of her T-shirt and jeans. Instead, she pulled off her jacket and returned to the bed. Settled down again, this time lying with her head on the pillow. Light still on, she closed her eyes.

The house was silent and still. No noise drifted in from outside. Alone in the room, Olivia could almost imagine that her life was her own again, that she could fall asleep and wake up to the kind of freedom she used to have. No U.S. Marshals watching her every move. No FBI agents worrying that she wouldn’t make it to trial. No Martino crime family trying to make sure she didn’t.

She could almost imagine it.

But the sick churning in her stomach anchored her in
reality, reminding her of danger, heartache, disillusion. Reminding her that her life was completely out of her control.

“But it’s not out of Yours, Lord, and I’m going to trust You to keep me safe. Because I really don’t believe the marshals and the FBI can,” she whispered, as the silence settled more deeply and she settled with it, closing her eyes and letting herself drift into sleep.

F
ord stalked up the stairs of the two-story Victorian, his jaw clenched and his muscles tight. After an hour and a half of circular questioning, McGraw had finally finished the interrogation he’d begun after Olivia left the car, but his questions were still echoing through Ford’s head.

Still irritating him.

Why had Ford been searching for Olivia? How had he found her? Had he told anyone where he was searching? What had he planned to do once he found her? Who had he called when he’d learned that Olivia was in Pine Bluff?

By the end of an hour, Ford had been ready to punch the younger man. Only thoughts of Olivia had kept him from doing so. After spending most of the past month crisscrossing Montana, hoping and praying he’d get a lead on his wife’s whereabouts, Ford had no intention of ruining it all by assaulting a federal officer.

No matter how tempted he was.

He scowled as he hit the landing and a tall, plain-faced older man greeted him.

“Mr. Jensen, your room is to the left, through that open door,” he said, gesturing to one of two doors to the right of the sitting area they were standing in.

Maybe he thought Ford would disappear into the room and hide away until morning, but that was as far from Ford’s personality as black was from white.

“Where’s Olivia?”

“Ms. Jarrod is sleeping,” he said, lifting a magazine from a small table and sinking down into a chair.

“That wasn’t my question.”

“She’s sleeping, and I have strict orders to make sure she’s left alone.”

“Strict orders from whom?”

“My supervisor.”

“And that would be Marshal McGraw?”

“Look, Mr. Jensen, it’s late. Everyone is tired. How about we discuss this in the morning?” Obviously, the older man was trying to be reasonable, and Ford should be, too. He took a deep breath, trying to free himself from nearly four months’ worth of frustration and anxiety.

“Let me put this another way, Marshal—”

“Rick Case.”

“Marshal Case, I’ve been separated from my wife for months, worried sick about her. After driving several thousand miles searching, I finally found her. Now you’re trying to tell me I can’t be with her. That’s not working for me.”

“Your wife? I thought you two weren’t together anymore.”

“If we weren’t, then why would I be here?”

Marshal Case eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. “All I know is what I was briefed on.”

“Well, your briefing was wrong, so where is my wife?”

Case frowned, but gestured to a closed door to the right of the stairs. “In there.”

“Thanks.” Ford bypassed the marshal, knocked softly
on the closed door. When Olivia didn’t answer, he hesitated, then tried the doorknob. It turned easily, and the door swung open.

Soft light illuminated the room and the bed where Olivia lay. She hadn’t bothered to change clothes, hadn’t even kicked off her shoes. Curled up on her side, her hair spread across the pillow, she looked pale and worn. Even in sleep she seemed troubled, faint lines creasing her brow, her lips turned down in a slight frown.

He should walk away and leave her alone. The thought flitted through Ford’s mind as he approached the bed, but he ignored it. He’d traveled thousands of miles to find her, would have traveled thousands more.

He smoothed a lock of long dark hair from her cheek, letting the silky strands slip through his fingers. He’d always loved her hair.

He’d always loved her.

Too bad he’d been so bad at showing it.

He glanced around the room, looking for a chair, something to sit in while Olivia slept. No way did he plan to wake her, and no way was he going to leave her alone. He was tempted to lie down with her, but Olivia would probably rather sleep with a rattlesnake than with him. He’d have to grab some bedding from another room and sack out on the floor. First, though, he’d pull Olivia’s shoes off, cover her with the quilt that lay at the end of the bed.

He’d barely touched her foot when she jerked upright, her eyes wide with terror, a soft scream sputtering to silence as she focused on him. “Ford! What are you doing here?”

“Taking your shoes off so you’ll be more comfortable.” He pulled the first shoe off and dropped it to the floor, then pulled off the other.

“I could have done that myself,” she said, pulling her knees up to her chest, and wrapping her arms around them.

“Not while you were asleep you couldn’t,” he responded, sitting down on the edge of the bed and wondering how long it would take for her to send him out of the room.

“I was fine,” she said, but there wasn’t much energy in her words. As a matter of fact, she looked two shades too pale, her lips as colorless as her cheeks. Her eyes seemed feverishly bright, their blue as vivid and clear as a summer sky.

“Are you okay, Liv?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve been running for your life for months and you’re tired. And because you’re…”
Pregnant. Come on, Ford, get the word out.

“Pregnant?”

“Yes.”

“Pregnancy isn’t an illness, Ford.”

“But it does put extra strain on a woman’s body.”

“Don’t do that, Ford.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you care.”

“I do care,” he said, pressing his hand against her cheek.

She jerked back, scrambling off the bed and swaying as her face lost even more color.

Ford jumped up, grabbing her arm before she fell over. “You’re not okay, Liv. I’ll have one of the marshals call the doctor.”

“A doctor will just tell me what I already know. That I’m exhausted.”

“You’re more than exhausted. When was the last time you ate?”

“I had lunch around one.”

“No wonder you look like you’re going to keel over. Sit down,” he said, urging her onto the edge of the bed. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry, Ford.”

“You have to eat.”

“I’ll eat in the morning. Right now, all I need is a good night’s sleep.”

“What about the baby? What does he need?” There, he’d mentioned the baby, and it hadn’t been nearly as difficult as he’d thought it would be.

“I really wish people would stop throwing the pregnancy in my face to get me to eat.” She scowled, picking at a loose thread on the bedspread.

“I’m not throwing it in your face. I’m suggesting that it might be a good reason to keep well nourished. How about I scrounge around for some food and bring it up? If you don’t want any, I’ll be happy to eat it all myself,” he suggested, more worried than he planned to admit.

Olivia had never been one to skip meals unless she was sick.

“Suit yourself, Ford.”

“You gave in pretty quickly.”

“What good will it do to argue? You’ll just end up doing what you want.” She sounded defeated, and Ford frowned, wishing he could read her expression. It had always been so easy before, but in the past months it seemed she’d learned to hide her emotions.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like I don’t care about your opinion, Liv.”

“We’re having a discussion about food, Ford. Don’t make it into something it’s not,” she said, offering a brittle smile.

“Liv—”

“Go get something to eat, Ford. It’s not like I’m going anywhere while you’re gone.” She lay down and turned her back to Ford, dismissing him as easily as she’d dismissed their conversation.

He wouldn’t walk away, though. Not the way he had so many times during their marriage. Instead, he rounded the bed, crouched in front of her so that they were face to face, eye to eye. “I’m not going to get food that you don’t want. I’m not going anywhere, either, Olivia. I hope you know that.”

“I said I wasn’t up for a discussion about us. I meant it.” She closed her eyes, her dark lashes lying against the dark crescents beneath her eyes. He ran his knuckles along her cheek, letting his hand linger there. She didn’t move, didn’t open her eyes, and he found himself studying her face as he hadn’t in years. The gentle curve of her jaw and the fullness of her lips. The angle of her cheekbones and soft strands of her hair.

She was beautiful, but it wasn’t only that that had attracted Ford. He’d been drawn in by her joy. The day they’d met he’d looked into her eyes and seen the kind of happiness he’d only ever dreamed of. He hadn’t been able to resist that or Olivia.

She opened her eyes and frowned as if she’d sensed the direction of his thoughts and didn’t like it. “You’re staring.”

“Just remembering all the reasons I fell in love with you.”

“I’d snort, but it wouldn’t be ladylike.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever been anything but ladylike.”

“My parents trained me well. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep.”

“I’ll get a pillow and some blankets and be back in a minute.”

“You’re kidding, right?” She sat up quickly, her eyes flashing with deep blue fire.

“Why would I be?”

“Because this is
my
room,” she said, sounding so disgusted, Ford was sure he should be insulted.

“It’s not like I plan to take over the bed, Olivia. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“There’s no need to sleep on the floor when you’ve got a bed in another room.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve got to use it. There’s no way I’m going to sleep across the hall and risk waking up to find out you’re gone.”

“I won’t be.”

“You’re right. You won’t be, because I’ll be sleeping next to your bed, and if something happens, I’ll know about it.”

“You’re exasperating, Ford.”

“I’m also your husband. That makes it completely appropriate for me to be here,” he said, straightening and walking to the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She scowled, but didn’t argue further as Ford stepped out of the room and closed the door.

Marshal Case looked up from a magazine, his dark eyes filled with curiosity. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Ford muttered, stepping past the marshal and walking into the room he’d been assigned. It was small and neat with a closet and a large window that overlooked the neighbor’s yard. A tree branch scraped against the window, and Ford frowned, staring out into the darkness and wondering just how safe the house was.

Anxious, worried, he turned away. The queen-bed was made with plain white sheets and a thick navy comforter that was functional rather than high quality. It reminded
Ford of the bedding he and Olivia had when they’d first married. They weren’t able to afford anything more than the basics, but that hadn’t bothered Olivia.

It
had
bothered Ford.

He’d wanted more for Olivia. For himself.

He’d gotten it, but in the end, he’d almost lost what mattered most.

Maybe he
had
lost what mattered most.

As much as he wanted to believe that Olivia still loved him and that she would be willing to give him a chance to prove that he’d changed, he wasn’t sure that was the truth. Even if it was, there was no guarantee they were going to survive long enough to try again. The Martino crime family had plenty of money at their disposal. They were ruthless when it came to getting what they wanted. Ford had spent a lot of time researching the Martinos after Olivia had gone into the Witness Protection Program. With the Don of the family on his death bed, the Martinos couldn’t afford to let Vincent, the only son and heir apparent, go to prison for murder.

Ford yanked the pillow off the bed; pulled the sheets and comforter off, too. For now, he’d choose to believe that the feds could keep Olivia safe, but if the Martinos found her again, that would change. He’d take Olivia and run, get his passports and Olivia’s from the safety deposit box he’d stored them in, buy tickets to France and head out of the country. He had friends in Paris who could help him hide Olivia until the trial. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was better than sitting around waiting to die.

Ford walked back into her room, ignoring the marshal’s glare. He didn’t particularly care what the guy thought.

Olivia lay exactly where he’d left her, curled up on her
side and breathing the deep steady rhythm of sleep. Dark hair fell across her cheek and neck, pooling on the pale coverlet. She looked beautiful, and Ford was tempted to forget making up a pallet on the floor. If he slid onto the bed beside her, she’d never know he was there.

And why shouldn’t he?

Olivia was his wife, after all.

A wife who has made it clear she doesn’t plan to stay married to you.

Four months ago, Ford would have ignored the thought and done exactly what he wanted, but it wasn’t four months ago. Things had changed. He’d changed. When he’d woken up in the hospital, realized that he’d been given another chance at life, Ford had known there was a reason. At first he’d thought it was simply to find Olivia and make sure she was safe, but as a month turned into two and then three, he’d realized there was more to it than that. Work had consumed his life for so long that he’d forgotten what it was like to be alone with his thoughts. He’d spent so much time rushing from one deal to the next, that he’d forgotten there was more to life than financial security. Somehow, he’d lost his humanity, turned into a walking talking real estate venture. Like his father, he’d traded a passion for people into a passion for things. His father’s drug of choice had been alcohol. Ford’s had been money.

He spread the blanket on the floor, threw the pillow down on top of it. Restless, but unwilling to leave Olivia, he turned off the light and lay down on the improvised bed, staring up at the ceiling. He’d spent his life working hard to be something more than what his father had been. He’d failed. Now all he could do was pray that there would be time to change things.