Shirlee McCoy - Deadly Vows

“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.”