Olivia shoved the cup of ginger ale across the seat tray, wondering why she’d even bothered asking for it. Her head pulsed with pain and her stomach was churning. The ER doctor had assured her that her head injury was minor. A sonogram of the baby had revealed a tiny well-formed infant who seemed to be doing just fine.
What would Ford have thought if he’d been in the room when the sonogram technician had pointed out the baby’s heartbeat?
She frowned, not wanting to dwell on the questions or to contemplate what the answers might be. Ford had been in a conference room being questioned by the police, and that was for the best. There was too much going on, too much still hanging in the balance for either of them to be focused on more than survival.
“You okay?” Ford asked, quietly. Seated beside her, his long legs stretched out, he didn’t look like he’d been running for his life for the better part of two days. Instead, he looked comfortable, confident and completely at ease.
“Just a headache. I’ll be fine once I get a little sleep.”
“You should have been admitted to the hospital for observation.”
“The doctor didn’t think so.”
“The doctor looked like he was ten years old.”
“He did not.”
“Okay, so he looked like he was twenty. I’m still not convinced he knew what he was talking about,” Ford said, offering a smile that made Olivia’s heart jump.
How could it be that he could still have that effect on her after all the years they’d been married and all the disillusion their marriage had brought?
“He must have, because I’m here and I’m feeling just fine,” she responded, turning away, and fiddling with the cup of ginger ale. Being with Ford shouldn’t be so uncomfortable.
It wouldn’t be so uncomfortable if she’d really put their relationship behind her.
She hadn’t.
That was the problem.
It was one she’d have to deal with.
She just wasn’t sure how. She’d spent plenty of time praying during the past few months. Praying for the baby’s health and safety. Praying for her own safety. Praying that she’d be able put the past behind her and move forward.
So far, God had answered the first two requests. The third, Olivia was still waiting on.
“Liv,” Ford said, laying his hand on her knee, his palm warm through her leggings. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” She asked, meeting his eyes, seeing what she hadn’t before—fatigue and worry.
“For almost getting you killed.”
“You didn’t. Vincent Martino did.”
“If I hadn’t thought I could keep you safe—”
“We made the decision to leave Billings together, so if you’ve got any fault in what happened, I do, too. Besides, I’m not convinced that turning myself into the FBI is the best way to stay safe,” she admitted, shooting a glance at the agents stationed around the cabin.
“I’ve had my doubts, too, but at least they’ve got weapons. Which is a lot more than I have to offer by way of protection.” He raked a hand through his hair and scowled, his eyes flashing with frustration. If there was one thing Olivia knew for sure, it was that Ford didn’t like to lose control of a situation. The fact that he’d been so quick to have the police contact Special Agent McGraw just proved how scared for Olivia he was.
She wasn’t sure if she should be touched or worried by that.
“Did you speak to Jackson?”
“Yeah. And I gave him a piece of my mind.”
“Please, tell me you didn’t.”
“I would, but I’d be lying. You were under FBI and marshal protection in Billings, and it wasn’t enough to keep you safe. I told McGraw I wanted to know why not.”
“What did he say?”
“That they’re doing an internal investigation. In the meantime, he’s only informed the special task force that you’d be returning to Chicago.”
“Did he let Micah know?”
“I’m assuming so. I doubt he’d want the marshals wasting manpower searching for you when you’re already in custody.”
“Custody? You make it sound like I’m a criminal.”
“The way McGraw was talking, you’re as close to a prisoner as a person can get without actually being in jail.”
“Nice.”
“I thought so, too, but I’d rather have your civil liberties violated than see you lying dead in a pool of blood.”
“That’s even nicer.”
“Sorry, but I can’t get the image of you lying on the floor unconscious out of my mind.”
“I wasn’t unconscious. I was dazed.”
“With your eyes closed and your skin paper-white. I was scared out of my mind, thinking you’d been shot.” He scowled again, and Olivia covered his hand with hers.
“I wasn’t. And now we’re back where we started—under armed guard. Hopefully this time, it’ll keep us safe.”
“It had better.”
The captain’s voice broke into the cabin announcing their Chicago approach, and Olivia handed her ginger ale to the stewardess, fastened her seat belt and braced herself. She’d been in danger since she’d fled the scene of Martino’s crime. Returning to the city where he’d murdered a man in cold blood didn’t seem like the wisest thing to do.
Then again, she couldn’t come up with any plan that seemed anything but foolish, so it was as good a one as any.
Why had she been the one to witness the crime? Why had it happened after she and Ford had conceived a child together?
Why?
It was a question she asked every day, and had only one answer to—God.
Olivia didn’t know His purpose, didn’t understand His ways, but she had no choice but to believe He was in control and that everything that happened would be according to His plan.
She only wished she could find more comfort in that.
“You two ready for arrival?” A short, dark-haired FBI agent asked, his deep brown gaze jumping from Olivia to Ford and back again.
“The better question would be is your team ready? Olivia has nearly been killed twice on FBI watch.” Ford responded, and Olivia resisted the urge to sink under the seat.
“Let me assure you, Mr. Jensen, that we’ve got everything under control.”
“That’s what Special Agent McGraw has been telling me since the day my wife disappeared into witness protection. So far, she’s been found twice.”
“We’ve worked hard to keep Ms. Jarrod’s arrival in Chicago from the Martino crime family and all of their associates.”
“But you did let Marshal McGraw know that Olivia is on her way back to Martino’s playground, right?”
“We couldn’t have the marshals wasting resources on the search when we’d already found our quar…Ms. Jarrod.”
“So, you’d rather endanger my wife than—”
“Enough! I’m too tired to listen to the two of you going at it like a couple of schoolboys,” Olivia cut in, her head throbbing, her muscles tense with fear and frustration.
She wanted the trial over with. She wanted to sit on the witness stand, explain what she’d seen and then leave Chicago and its memories far behind. Too bad the trial wasn’t scheduled for another three weeks.
“How about we concentrate on the plan for tonight rather than past failures,” Ford said, his tone carefully neutral. Olivia knew him well enough to know he wanted to continue the argument, press for acquiescence of guilt and failure from the agent.
“The plan is simple. We get off the plane. You’ll be delivered to a waiting car and driven to a safe location. You’ll stay there until the trial.”
“And there’s no chance that the Martinos are going to be waiting for us at the airport?” Ford questioned.
“We’re prepared for anything.”
Which wasn’t an answer, but Olivia decided not to mention it. The fact was, there were no guarantees in life, and as much as she wanted to believe that she and Ford would be safely delivere
d to whatever armed fortress the FBI had prepared, she wasn’t sure things would be that easy.
Ford must have been thinking the same, because he didn’t respond to the agent’s words just let the other man walk away, and then patted Olivia’s knee and offered her a brief smile. “Whatever happens, Livy, it’ll be okay.”
“I know. I just wish I knew that what was going to happen was what I wanted to have happen.”
“What do you want? Besides making it out of this alive?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Sure you have, Liv. I wasn’t married to you for ten years without figuring out that you’re a planner. So, what have you been dreaming of?”
“Finding a little house with a yard and a white picket fence in a small town where I can raise a child.” She’d also been dreaming of a little girl with dark blond hair and blue eyes. A little boy with his father’s strong will and determination. And, if she were really honest with herself, she’d admit that she’d found herself dreaming of Ford walking through the door at the end of the day, smiling that smile that had always made her heart leap.
“That’s it?”
“Yes,” she lied, not wanting to admit the truth.
“Too bad, because I’ve been doing some dreaming, too.”
“I guess you want me to ask what you’re dreaming about.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to know?”
He chuckled, but there was a somber look in his eyes that only increased the anxiety Olivia was feeling. Like her, Ford didn’t seem to trust that the FBI could keep them safe. Maybe, like Olivia, he wondered if he’d actually make it through the Martino trial alive.
“Thanks for the laugh, Liv, but I think you do want to know because what I’m dreaming of concerns you.”
“So tell me.”
“I was dreaming of that little house, too. Yard and white picket fence. A playground in the yard for the kids.”
“Kids?”
“If I’m going to be a father once, I may as well be a father twice.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Why would I be?”
“Because you don’t want children.”
“I didn’t want children. Now that I’m a few months away from becoming a father, I’m changing my mind.”
“And you think that means I want you in my life? In our child’s life?”
“You have a choice about whether or not to have me in your life, Olivia, but you have no choice about whether or not I’m part of our child’s,” he said, his voice cold.
Olivia wanted to be upset by his high-handed remark, but he was right. If he wanted to be part of their child’s life, she would support that. Encourage it. Because it was best for their child.
But was it best for Olivia?
She wasn’t sure. Being hurt again wasn’t something she’d been dreaming about.
“If you want to be part of raising our baby, I would never keep you from it.”
“I want more than that, Livy. I want the family you’ve always described to me. The one where two people are working together to raise children who always feel loved and wanted.”
“Ford—”
“Just think about it, okay?”
Think about it? How could she do anything else? The day she’d met Ford, she’d known she would marry him. She’d dreamed of one day having a family with him. Of the two of them growing old together, their children and grandchildren gathering at their place for holiday dinners and anniversaries.
It hadn’t taken many years of marriage to realize that there might never be children or grandchildren and that those holiday dinners and anniversaries would be spent alone. Even that hadn’t been enough to chase her away from Ford. It had been his attitude of tolerant indifference that had finally been too much. The way he’d looked at her as if she were a stranger when she spoke of wanting to spend more time together. The way he’d walked out when things got tough.
She wanted the dream he described.
Desperately wanted it.
The problem was believing that she could have it.
The pilot’s voice filled the cabin again, pulling Olivia from her thoughts, reminding her that soon they’d land and that once they were on the ground anything could happen.
Outside the window Olivia could see the lights of Chicago beckoning her home. She focused on them, not wanting to see Ford’s expression or to look too deeply into his eyes. If she did, she might be lost. If she allowed herself, she might just believe that everything she’d ever wanted was within her reach.
She sighed, wondering if she were holding on a little too tightly to the past. Forgiving Ford had never been difficult. What was difficult was forgetting.
The plane touched down, jostling a little as the wheels hit the tarmac. In just a few minutes, Olivia and Ford would be escorted into the airport. Out in the open, no longer cloistered inside the first class cabin, they’d be moving targets. If the Martino family had discovered that they were on the way to Chicago, there was no telling how many men they might have sent to make sure Olivia didn’t make it to the trial.
As much as she wanted to guard her heart, as much as she wanted to protect her emotions, Olivia didn’t want to die without telling Ford the truth. That she loved him. That she always would. She put a hand on his arm, meaning to tell him just that, but an FBI agent approached, grim-faced and unhappy.
“Once the plane docks, we’re going to move. We’ll be the first to exit. The most dangerous time will be when we exit the airport. Just stick close and let us worry about protecting you,” he said, and Olivia figured he probably thought his words were reassuring.
They weren’t, and she prayed silently as the plane coasted to a stop and docked. Continued praying as she and Ford were hustled through the loading bridge and out into the airport.
Ford wrapped his hand around hers, squeezing gently and offering a smile of encouragement. She tried to smile back, but her lips seemed frozen with dread as they approached an emergency exit guarded by two suited men.
She wanted to hold back, refuse to walk outside, but there was no denying the tide of FBI agents that flowed toward the exit, pulling her along with it.
The door opened silently, letting in cool spring air tinged with exhaust, and Olivia had no choice but to step into the darkness beyond and trust that the God who had kept her safe so far would continue to do so.
SEVENTEEN
Ford should have felt safe. He didn’t. Despite the armed FBI agents accompanying them, he felt an edge of fear that nearly consumed him. Trusting that the FBI could keep Olivia from harm was about as useful as trusting himself to do it. No matter what safety measures were in place, it seemed the Martinos were able to work around them, gathering information and utilizing it over and over again.
Someone was passing information to them. It fit with what Marshal James had said the day Olivia’s Pine Bluff home had exploded in flames, and it was the only explanation that made sense.
Unfortunately, that meant that Olivia would never be safe. Not until the trial was over. Maybe not even then.
The thought didn’t sit well with Ford, and he tightened his grip on her hand, wishing he could race back into the airport, find a flight to another state, then another country, but even that plan seemed fraught with danger. The Martino crime family didn’t leave loose ends. As long as they thought Olivia might testify against Vincent, they’d hunt her down to try and stop her.
A dark sedan idled a few feet away, and Ford could clearly see two men in the front seat. An armed guard opened the back door as they approached, his sharp gaze scanning the area. The scene seemed liked something out of a spy thriller, but it was real life. Ford’s life. Olivia’s. The baby’s.
The thought no longer filled him with dread.
He wanted the baby as much as he wanted the life he’d described to Olivia.
Please, Lord, let us have it. Give us that second chance, he prayed as Olivia slid into th
e middle of the backseat. An agent was already seated on her far side, and Ford slid in next to her, his pulse racing with adrenaline.
So far, so good. No bullets flying. No cars speeding toward them. Maybe they had flown in under Martino radar.
Maybe.
And maybe the Martino family was biding its time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.
Which would be when? On the road? During the trial? At whatever destination Ford and Olivia were being brought to?
Ford tried to think it through as the car pulled out onto the highway. There wasn’t a whole lot of open road in Chicago, but the driver aimed for the edge of town, driving them out of the city and into suburban sprawl. The road was congested, the traffic heavy and slow moving. Would Martino dare to strike now?
He shifted in his seat, turning to look out the back window.
“We’ve got a car of agents following. If Martino had men waiting at the airport, there’s no sign of them now,” the driver said, and Ford met the man’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“I wish I were as confident of that as you are.”
“Hey, I’m not saying something can’t go wrong. I’m just saying that for right now we’re in the clear.”
“Where are we going?” Olivia asked, and Ford wondered if she actually thought she’d get an answer. So far, the FBI hadn’t been very forthcoming with information.
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am. We’ve got a ways to go, though, so you may as well make yourself comfortable.”
“And wherever we’re going, we’re going to stay there until the trial? Or will there be another location after this?”
“Sounds like you’ll be staying there. Special Agent McGraw said the prosecuting attorney will probably want to start preparing you for the trial in a few weeks, so we’ll want you close the district office.”
“A few weeks? The trial is scheduled for the end of April. That’s less than three weeks away.”
“It’s been rescheduled for May.”
“Rescheduled? By whom?” Ford broke in, wondering why they hadn’t been informed of the change sooner. Three weeks in protective custody was something he could imagine. A month or more was something he didn’t even want to consider.
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