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 t
he 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.
THREE
Two minutes.
One-hundred twenty seconds.
Such a short amount of time, but Olivia knew better than most that a few moments could change a life completely. In December, she’d celebrated Christmas alone, congratulating herself on not giving in to her parents’ demands to fly to Florida to be with them. She’d dressed up on Christmas Eve and attended candlelight service, refusing to feel self-conscious about being there alone. Then she’d returned home and decorated a tiny Christmas tree, drank hot chocolate and danced to “The Nutcracker Suite.” Alone and independent and almost happy to be that way.
And then it had all changed.
Ford had come knocking, telling her all the things he knew she wanted to hear. Somehow she’d fallen into the fantasy of renewal, glimpsed the dreams she’d given up on and let herself believe that he’d changed. Regret had come immediately, and she’d run outside and into more trouble than she’d ever imagined she could find. Now she was a puppet, pulled by invisible strings, going in directions she didn’t want to.
She coughed, thick smoke filling her throat and burning her eyes. How long before the fire spread to the kitchen? How long before the entire house was engulfed in flames? Could she afford to wait any longer for Ford to return?
Could she live with herself if she left without him?
Lord, please, let him come back soon.
The prayer whispered through her mind as she grabbed a dish towel, soaked it and covered her mouth and nose. It wasn’t just herself she needed to worry about. She had the baby to think of. An innocent life she needed to protect. But she couldn’t just leave Ford and the two marshals to die.
She dropped to her hands and knees, crawling to the kitchen threshold. “Ford!” she shouted, but the words barely carried through the dish towel and over the crackling roar of the fire.
“Ford!” She tried again, and this time a shadow appeared in front of her. Broad and tall and darker than the thick smoke. Olivia blinked, scrambling backward.
“I thought I told you to leave!” Ford shouted, towering over her, one of the marshals held in a fireman carry over his shoulder. Another man followed close behind.
“I was worried,” she said, standing, relief and fear mixing, stealing her breath and her strength. She put a hand on the wall, steadying herself.
“You could have worried from outside. Come on. The whole living room is in flames. It won’t take long for it to spread to the roof.”
“Let me go first.” Marshal James limped out from behind Ford.
She followed him to the kitchen door, the smoke thicker, the room nearly black with it. She coughed, gagging on the moist, hot air she inhaled.
“Wait until I call for you,” Marshal James said as he stepped outside. Several seconds passed as the fire in the living room crackled and hissed and the thick blackness intensified.
Ford pressed in close to Olivia, leaning out the door, still carrying the fallen man. “If he doesn’t call us outside soon, we’re walking out without the go-ahead. The way that fire is blazing, the whole place could collapse.”
The imagine of the house shuddering, then falling in on itself flashed through Olivia’s head. Not a pretty picture. Especially if she, Ford and Marshal Louis were still in the house when it happened.
“All right. We’re clear. Come on,” Marshal James said as he reappeared in the doorway and took Olivia’s arm, gently guiding her down the back steps. “Are you okay, Ms. Jarrod.”
“Fine. It’s your partner I’m worried about,” she responded, pulling off the wet cloth and turning to watch as Ford approached. Cool air bathed her cheeks, filled her lungs. She was safe. They were all safe. For now.
Ford stopped beside her, carefully lowering the unconscious marshal to the ground, and bending over him. “He’s still breathing, but his head is bleeding a lot. We need to call an ambulance.”
“Already done,” Marshal James said, his voice raspy with smoke.
“Maybe we should wait at a neighbor’s house until they come. I don’t like the idea of Olivia being out here in the open.” Ford put a hand on Olivia’s shoulder, and she knew she should step away. He was her husband and the father of her child, but whatever else he’d been had died a long time ago. Allowing herself to believe differently would only make it harder to say goodbye.
“Go, but not to the neighbors. Find a ride out of town and keep going until you’ve put as much distance between yourself and this town as you can,” Marshal James said, as he leaned over his partner. He didn’t look at Olivia and Ford as he said it, and for a moment Olivia thought the smoke and heat had wreaked havoc on her brain cells.
“What are you saying, James? You want us to leave the program? Go out on our own?” Ford asked, frowning a little as he met Olivia’s gaze.
“What I’m saying is that we’ve done a great job of keeping Ms. Jarrod safe.” He looked up, his expression hard and grim. “Look, I could lose my job for saying this, but I’d rather lose my job than see you or your wife lose your life. There’s a leak somewhere in the organization. We’ve suspected it for a while, but can’t find it. If you stay in the program, there’s no guarantee either of you will live to see the Martino trial.”
“But—”
Olivia began, the sound of sirens cutting off whatever question she planned to ask. Good thing, because she wasn’t sure what to ask. What to say.
“Sounds like help is here. Better make your decision about what you want to do before they come back here.”
“It’s made. Thanks for the warning. Come on, Olivia. Let’s go,” Ford said, taking her hand and pulling her across the backyard.
“Go where?” Olivia asked, but she didn’t resist his gentle grip. Didn’t even try to pull away as they walked through the yard of the house behind hers.
“Like Marshal James suggested—far away from here.”
A shout came from somewhere behind them, and Olivia’s pulse jumped. She glanced back, saw the house nearly consumed by flames, dark figures spilling around the side and into the backyard. Firefighters? Police? More federal marshals?
“If we’re going it alone, we’d better pick up the pace. You game?” Ford asked, and she looked up into his face. It wasn’t often he asked an opinion and rare that he included anyone else in his plans. What was he thinking? Worrying about?
There was no time to ask.
No time for anything but a quick nod. “Yes.”
They ran through the yard behind Olivia’s, cut around the side of the house and out onto a sidewalk where a crowd of people stood staring at the flames that shot up into the black sky. If anyone watched Olivia and Ford race away from the scene, Olivia didn’t notice. She was too busy trying to keep pace with Ford.
Dusk threw long shadows across the road as Ford pulled Olivia away from the crowd and further along the quiet street. At six foot two he was nine inches taller than Olivia, his long legs eating up the ground at a pace she normally wouldn’t be able to match. Funny how motivating fear could be. Not only was Olivia able to keep up, but she thought she might just be able to beat Ford in a race.
Her legs ached, her lungs burned, but fear spurred her on.
A leak in the organization. Rather lose my job than see you dead.
The marshal’s words chanted through Olivia’s mind in time to the frantic beat of her heart. A leak in the U.S. Marshals? Was that how the two murder victims had been found?
Deadly Vows Page 3