Shirlee McCoy - Deadly Vows

“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.

Every 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.