Deadly Vows (2 page)

Streetlights did little to dispel the darkness or to chase away the memories, and Olivia was tense with anxiety as she pulled into the parking lot at the Y.

Housed in an old warehouse, the building was long and narrow, the parking lot large. A few cars were parked near the building, and Olivia pulled in close, hesitating a moment before opening her door. Maybe she should quit teaching at the Y, quit waitressing and lock herself in her house until the marshals came to take her to Vincent Martino’s trial.

Go about your daily life as if nothing has changed. Keep up the appearance of normalcy. Don’t give anyone a reason to think you have something to hide.

“Easy for you to say, Micah. You’re not the one with the price on your head,” she murmured as she forced herself to open the door and step out of the car. Evenings in Pine Bluff, Montana, had a richness to them. The sky seemed ripe with starlight, the distant mountains fading into deep azure sky. God’s creation, filled with wonder and beauty, but Olivia could find no comfort in it.

She hurried toward the building, her pulse jumping as something scraped on the pavement behind her.

She didn’t want to turn to look.

Then again, she didn’t want to die with her back to her killer.

She whirled, ready to face down the threat, but the parking lot was empty of life.

Olivia took a step back, her eyes probing the shadows. Was someone there, waiting and watching? A U.S. Marshal, maybe? Or someone worse?

Skin crawling, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end, Olivia took another step back and then turned and ran toward the building. She yanked the door open with enough force to send it crashing against the wall and bounded into the foyer, her breath heaving, her heart racing.

“No need for quite that much of a hurry. You’ve got ten minutes before the class starts,” Lorna Scott said, peering out of the office. Sixty, with short, dark hair cut into a pixie style, Lorna eyed Olivia with curiosity. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine. Everything is fine. The door just got away from me.”

Lorna raised a dark eyebrow, but didn’t comment. What could she say, short of calling Olivia a liar? “I’m glad you got here a little early. I need to talk to you about something. Come on in the office.”

“What’s up?”

“Someone was here looking for you. He said he was your husband,” she said quietly, but the words seemed to fill the room, stealing Olivia’s breath.

She swayed, grabbing a chair to steady herself. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m afraid it’s not. He arrived just a half hour after I called you. Said his name was Ford, showed me a picture of you and asked if you worked here. I would have called to let you know, but I figured you were already on your way here.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you didn’t work here. Can’t say the lie sat very well, but I wasn’t sure what kind of relationship you two had. I figured if he was the ex you told me about, you might not want him to know where you worked.”

“I appreciate it, Lorna.”

“Your private life is your private life. Besides, the guy looked a little dangerous. I was anxious to get him out of the building.”

“Dangerous? Ford?” Olivia never would have described him as that. Successful, confident, too handsome for his own good, those were more apt descriptions.

“Maybe it was just the scar. You know how that is. Guy’s got a scar on his face, he looks dangerous whether he is or not.”

“Ford doesn’t have a scar.”

“Well, this guy did. On his right cheek. Didn’t distract from his good looks, but it sure did make me wonder how he got it.”

“It couldn’t have been Ford, then.” Which meant someone else had come to the Y looking for Olivia. Someone with a photograph of her.

“Maybe not, but someone was here, and it
was
you he was looking for. Want me to call the police?”

“No. That’s okay. Listen, I hate to do this, but I’m not up to teaching tonight after all.”

Lorna nodded, not bothering to ask why, not commenting again on the scarred man. She must have known things weren’t right with Olivia. Maybe she’d even begun to suspect that the things Olivia had shared were only partial truths. “That’s all right. I’ll find someone else.”

“Thanks.” Olivia hurried from the office, her mind racing. She needed to get in the car and drive as fast and as far from Pine Bluff as she could. Once she put some distance between herself and the town, she’d call Micah and let him know that she’d been found.

She unlocked the car, started to pull the door open.

“Olivia?” The voice shivered through the darkness, gritty and deep and as familiar as her own.

Ford. Her husband. The father of her child. The man she’d tried so hard to forget during her four months in witness protection. Behind her. Waiting for her to turn and face him.

Not the kind of danger she’d expected, but danger nonetheless.

“If you get in the car and drive away, I’ll just follow you.” There was little emotion in the words, just a cold statement of fact.

She could turn around and face him now or she could run and face him later. Either way, she’d have to deal with him. Ford never gave up on something he wanted, never stopped pushing for a win. This time, though, the drive to succeed might cost him more than he bargained for. If Olivia didn’t convince him to go back to Chicago, it might cost them both their lives.

E
very 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.”