Deadly Vows

by Shirlee McCoy

  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.

  NINE

  Ford 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.

  TEN

  Olivia woke before dawn. Gritty-eyed from lack of sleep, she glanced at her watch and frowned. Six o’clock was early, even for her. She got out of bed anyway, shuffling across the room and pulling open the bathroom door. A man stood near the sink, scruffy blond hair falling below the nape of his neck, broad shoulders covered by nothing but taut muscle and smooth skin. Faded jeans hugging lean hips. A gorgeous, dangerous looking creature she had no right to be staring at.

  She slammed the door, her cheeks hot.

  A man was in her bathroom!

  A man with blond hair.

  Ford?

  “Good morning.” He stepped into the room, pulling a blue T-shirt over his head and tugging it down to cover a dark purple scar that snaked around his ribs.

  “The Martinos hurt you more than you said,” she managed, and he shrugged, broad shoulders pulling against the fabric of his shirt.

  “I didn’t really say anything, because there’s nothing much to say.” He smoothed a hand over shower-wet hair.

  “I think you’re lying, Ford. And I’m so sorry you were hurt b
ecause of me.” She put a hand on his arm and knew immediately it was a mistake. His skin was warm and firm beneath her palm, the contact pulling her back to a place she didn’t want to be. A place where touching Ford’s arm was as natural as breathing. Where heat spread like wildfire, and where love had no limits and no boundaries.

  She blushed again, taking a step away.

  He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “I told you, what happened to me wasn’t your fault.”

  “Then why does it feel like it is?”

  “Because you want to believe that if you want something badly enough it will happen, and you’ve never been one to want anything but the best for the people you love.”

  “Who said anything about love?” she asked, flustered and uncomfortable. How had the conversation become so personal, so quickly?

  “Me. And I’m also saying that what happened to me, is nothing to do with you. This,” he pointed to his cheek.

  “And this.” He lifted his shirt and gestured to the raised scar. “They’re Martino’s little gift, and I want you to stop blaming yourself for them.”

  Blame herself?

  She was too busy ogling his six-pack abs to do much more than gape. He looked good. Much better than any man who’d nearly died had the right to look.

  She raised her eyes, looked into his face and her heart skipped a beat. Just as it had the day they’d met and the day they’d married.

  Say something, Olivia. Don’t just stand here staring at him like a ninny!

  But her mind was blank, her cheeks blazing three shades of red.

  “You can go ahead into the bathroom if you want. I’m done in there now,” he said, a smile hovering on his lips as he tugged his shirt back into place.

  “You shouldn’t have been in there at all.” There. She’d broken the spell of silence, but her cheeks were still blazing and she wanted to run into the bathroom and splash cold water on her face.

  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” I don’t want to see you standing around half-dressed when I’m trying to convince myself that we’re better off going our separate ways.