Every muscle in Ford’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 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 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.

“But I am.”

PROTECTING THE WITNESSES:

New identities, looming danger and forever love in the Witness Protection Program.

Deadly Vows—Shirlee McCoy, April 2010

SHIRLEE McCOY

has always loved making up stories. As a child, she daydreamed elaborate tales in which she was the heroine—gutsy, strong and invincible. Though she soon grew out of her superhero fantasies, her love for storytelling never diminished. She knew early that she wanted to write inspirational fiction, and began writing her first novel when she was a teenager. Still, it wasn’t until her third son was born that she truly began pursuing her dream of being published. Three years later she sold her first book. Now a busy mother of five, Shirlee is a homeschool mom by day and an inspirational author by night. She and her husband and children live in Washington and share their house with a dog, two cats and a bird. You can visit her Web site at www.shirleemccoy.com, or e-mail her at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com.

Deadly Vows
Shirlee McCoy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Special thanks and acknowledgment to Shirlee McCoy for her contribution to the Protecting the Witnesses miniseries.

In you, O Lord, I have taken refuge; let me never be put to shame, deliver me in your righteousness. Turn your ear to me, come quickly to my rescue; be my rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me.

—Psalms 31:1-2

To Marge Garrison.

Thank you for the warm hospitality and love you show to all who enter Starr Road Baptist Church. The love of Christ surely shines from you, welcoming all to come and be part of His family.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

PROLOGUE

MEMO: Top Secret, Top Priority

TO: FBI Organized Crime Division

FROM: Jackson McGraw, Special Agent, Chicago Field Office

DATE: March 20, 2010

RE: Operation Black Veil

At 4:00 P.M. EST, Ford Jensen, estranged husband of Olivia Jarrod, boarded a plane heading for Billings, Montana. Despite repeated requests to cease, Jensen continues to search for his wife. We have people in place to tail him when he arrives, but there is to be no contact between agents and Jensen unless absolutely necessary. For his safety and the safety of our witness, it is imperative Jensen not be seen as a potential trail to Olivia. Our mystery informant confirms that the Martino crime family has offered a reward to the person or persons who are able to find and assassinate Ms. Jarrod. To maintain the witness’s safety, the U.S. Marshal Service has been contacted and the witness has been relocated from Billings.

Our informant believes that, in the event the Martino crime family does not succeed in its attempts to find and silence Ms. Jarrod, a hit will be arranged upon Ms. Jarrod’s return to Chicago for Vincent “Bloodbath” Martino’s trial. We are working closely with the U.S. Marshal Service to ensure Ms. Jensen’s safety before, during and after the trial. There is to be no discussion or communication about the trial or witness outside of secure channels. Any questions or information regarding the Martino crime family are to come directly to me.

We continue to seek the identity of our mystery informant, but must not do anything that will jeopardize our position with her. No overt movements toward revealing her identity are to be made. We will continue to move within secure channels to gain more information. If you have any information, be advised that it must be shared only with Special Agent McGraw. The sole purpose of our task force is to protect our witness and to put Vincent Martino behind bars where he belongs. To that end, every effort must be made to continue to receive information regarding the Martino family.

Questions or information regarding this matter are to be directed to Special Agent McGraw.

ONE

She’d popped.

Olivia Jarrod turned sideways and stared at her reflection, not sure if she should be elated or horrified. The flat plane of her stomach was gone. In its place was a subtle roundness that was emphasized by her fitted T-shirt. She placed her hands on the bump, imagining tiny hands and feet, translucent skin, a swiftly beating heart.

Her baby.

And Ford’s.

She frowned, pulling the fabric taut against her abdomen as she turned from side to side. Thinking about Ford was something she tried not to do. The last few months had been difficult enough without reliving her failed marriage, thinking about the year she and Ford had been separated or dwelling on the last time she’d seen him.

She frowned again, turning away from the mirror and the telltale evidence of just how easily she’d fallen for her husband’s charming ways again. She still didn’t know why he’d shown up on the doorstep of her Chicago bungalow just a few days after Christmas. Had he been lonely in their penthouse? Had he decided to fight for their marriage?

Olivia had asked herself the same questions over and over again in the days after she’d fled Chicago, but she had no answers. All she knew for sure was that Ford didn’t want kids. Too much trouble, he’d said years ago. Too many complications. He had too much riding on his career and too little time to devote to the mess and chaos children brought.

He’d be shocked if he found out he was going to be a father.

Appalled.

Angry.

There were plenty of words Olivia could think of that would describe Ford’s reaction to impeding fatherhood. None of them were good.

It was a good thing she knew it. Otherwise, she’d pick up the phone and do what she knew she wasn’t supposed to. She’d call Ford. She’d tell him that in a few short months he was going to be a father.

And she’d probably end up dying because she’d contacted him.

After all, wasn’t that the first rule of witness protection?

No contact with anyone or anything from the past.

People who followed the rule lived. People who didn’t died. It was as simple as that.

What wasn’t simple was forgetting the past. Moving on. Letting go. She’d loved Ford for a long time. Even during their yearlong separation, she’d loved him, longed for his company and prayed that someday things would be different and they could be together again.

God hadn’t answered that prayer.

But He had given Olivia something she’d always dreamed of. A baby. She needed to focus on that. Forget about everything else.

Which was exactly why she shouldn’t be thinking about Ford.

As the key witness in the prosecution’s murder case against Chicago crime family scion Vincent “Bloodbath” Martino, Olivia couldn’t afford to make a mistake. Entering witness protection would only keep her safe as long as she followed the rules, and following the rules was only easy when she didn’t dwell on the things she could no longer have. Like a relationship with the only man she’d ever loved, a man who’d broken her heart a hundred times but who still deserved to know he was going to be a father.

“Just stop it!” she muttered, grabbing her waitress uniform off the bed and shoving it into the hamper. It had been a long day. A long couple of weeks, really. Being relocated from Billings, Montana, to Pine Bluff, Montana, had knocked her off kilter. Although, it was more the reason for the relocation rather than the move itself that had shaken her. Two women in witness protection had been murdered in Montana. Both women had green eyes and were around Olivia’s age. The U.S. Marshals weren’t sure if Olivia had been the true target of the attacks. The fact that she had blue eyes rather than green made the chances slim, but Micah McGraw, Olivia’s contact in the marshal’s office, hadn’t wanted to take any chances.

So she’d been moved.

Quickly.

So quickly she hadn’t had time to say goodbye to some of the friends she’d made in Billings or to tell her church family there that she was leaving. Nearly four months of pretending to be someone she wasn’t, blending into a new community, and it was over. She’d packed a small bag, climbed into a waiting car and been whisked away.

And now she was tired. Jumping at shadows. Imagining danger around every corner.

She sighed, grabbing a sweater and throwing it over her T-shirt. What she needed was a cup of tea, a few hours of mindless television and a good night’s sleep. She’d feel better in the morning.

The telephone rang as she walked into the living room, and she jumped, her heart racing.

“For goodness’ sake, Olivia. It’s just the phone,” she mumbled as she lifted the receiver and pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Olivia? It’s Lorna Scott. I know this is short notice, but our preschool ballet teacher is sick. Any chance you can fill in for her?” Lorna asked, her tone brusque. Director of Pine Bluff’s YMCA program, she was a frequent patron of the diner where Olivia worked, and often stopped in for breakfast during Olivia’s shift. She’d been the first one in years to ask if Olivia was a dancer, and the question had sparked a long conversation about the YMCA’s programs. It hadn’t taken long for Lorna to offer Olivia a job as a substitute ballet teacher at the Y. It had taken Olivia a little longer to accept. She’d had to weigh the danger of participating in an activity connected to her previous life with the danger of making Lorna curious.

In the end, she’d decided that she’d rather accept the job than answer questions about why she couldn’t. Too many lies made it too easy to make mistakes. “What time is the class?”

“Six.”

Olivia glanced at her watch, hesitating. It was only five. Plenty of time to get ready and go. She just wasn’t sure she wanted to. She’d felt off all week. Nervous and even more on edge than usual. “I—”

“If you’ve got plans, I’m sure I can find someone else.” There was a question in Lorna’s words, and Olivia knew that refusing to take over the class meant explaining why she couldn’t. Unfortunately, she had no real excuse.

“That’s all right. I can come,” she said, knowing she had to live her life as if she had nothing to be afraid of. As if she really was Olivia Jarrod from Hollywood, Florida, newly single and starting over with a new job in a new state.

“You’re sure?”

“It’s a forty-five-minute class, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Then no problem.”

“See you at six.”

Olivia hung up and paced to the front window. Outside, the sun was still high, its golden presence comforting. During daylight hours, Olivia felt almost safe. It was night that she dreaded. Darkness bred fear and stirred up memories she’d rather not dwell on. Not just of the murder she’d witnessed but of the years she’d spent alone waiting for Ford to come home from work, waiting for him to remember their anniversary or to wish her a happy birthday, waiting for her dreams of a happy home and loving family to come true. So much time wasted waiting for something that would never happen.

Too bad it had taken her so long to realize the truth. If she’d walked away two years into their marriage or three or even four rather than the ten it had taken, she and Ford would have been divorced a long time ago, and nothing that had happened in the past four months would have happened. She wouldn’t have let Ford into her house, wouldn’t have believed that he might really want something different from their marriage than what they’d had. She wouldn’t have been so hurt when he’d interrupted a conversation about their future to take a business phone call.

And she wouldn’t have run from her Chicago home and straight into a scene out of a crime drama—two men walking near the river, the moon bright and full above them. One pulling a gun, pointing it at the other’s head and firing. A body falling into the river. A face that Olivia recognized from the newspaper.

She shuddered, pushing the memory away. It was better to focus on the present and the future. As much as she wished she hadn’t seen a man murdered in cold blood, she couldn’t regret that night. It had given her a precious gift. God had given her a precious gift. She needed to focus on that and forget everything else.

“We’ll be okay, baby. I have to believe that,” she said. God had gotten her through that terrifying night. He’d get her through the next month, and He’d get her through Vincent Martino’s trial.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since lunch. It would be a good idea to grab something before going to the YMCA, but Olivia was afraid to. Her stomach hadn’t been quite right since she’d gotten pregnant, and the months hadn’t eased the discomfort. Her new obstetrician had assured Olivia that she’d be feeling better soon, but soon hadn’t come yet.

Anxious and antsy, she grabbed the pregnancy book she’d left on the coffee table, thumbed to the section on the second trimester and tried to read, but one word bled into another and she couldn’t make sense of any of it. Disgusted, she dropped the book back onto the table, grabbed her purse and jacket and opened the front door.

Outside, the day had turned cool, a brisk breeze stirring the trees and grass. Across the street, Maria and Joshua Silverman were herding their three kids into their 1950s ranch style home. Both waved before disappearing inside. Olivia knew a lot about them. That they’d married straight out of high school and had their first child a year later. That they were honest, hard working and that they’d believed every word Olivia had said about being newly divorced and looking to start over again. What she didn’t know was what they’d think if they found out the truth. That most of what she’d told them was a lie. That she was a woman with a price on her head, and that at any moment one of Vincent Martino’s thugs might end her life.

She shivered, pulling the jacket closed and glancing up and down the quiet street. Her contact with the U.S. Marshals had been limited since she’d been relocated, but she’d been assured she was under twenty-four-hour protection. Maybe so, but she didn’t feel protected. She felt vulnerable and more alone than she’d ever been before. No matter where she went in Pine Bluff, no matter what she was doing, she felt exposed. As if a predator were hiding just out of sight, waiting to pounce.

It wasn’t a good feeling, and when she spoke to Micah McGraw again, she was going to ask him just how much protection his team was providing.

“Headin’ out for the night?” Jeb Carlson, Olivia’s next door neighbor, called out from the window of his house, and she smiled. Maybe the marshals weren’t watching, but Jeb sure was.

“I’m teaching at the Y.”

“Pretty girl like you should be out having fun on a Friday night not working.”

“Having fun won’t pay the bills.”

“You got a point there. You get the delivery?”

“What delivery?” Olivia went cold at the question, her heart beating rapidly. She hadn’t ordered anything, and as far as she’d noticed, no packages had been left for her.

“Van pulled into your driveway a couple hours ago. Guy got out and grabbed something from the back. Thought he was going to leave it on your porch.”

“There was nothing here when I got home.”

“He left pretty quick. I put on my shoes and walked outside and the van was already gone. Probably realized he was at the wrong house and left. Happens sometimes.”

“Yeah.” But agreeing didn’t make it so. Maybe there’d been a mistake. Or maybe the Martinos had found her.

Found her? Of course they hadn’t found her.

If they had, she’d be dead.

Jeb was right. The van and delivery were simply a mix-up. Nothing sinister or scary about them at all.

“You okay, doll?” Jeb asked, and Olivia forced herself to smile and nod. Nothing was going on. Nothing that couldn’t be explained. She really did need to stop jumping at shadows and imagining Martinos around every corner.

“I’m fine. I’d better head out, though.”

“Don’t work too hard. A lady in your condition needs her rest.”

“My condition?” Olivia paused with her hand on the door to her car. She hadn’t told anyone in Pine Bluff about the pregnancy. Though she’d shared with a few people in Billings, discussing the baby inevitably led to questions about the baby’s father. Questions Olivia couldn’t answer with any amount of truthfulness.

“Now, don’t be worrying that I’ll tell every Tom, Dick and Harry about it, but I’ve been around enough pregnant women to know one when I see one.”

“I—” Olivia glanced down at the slight swelling of her stomach. Was it really that noticeable?

“Besides. I saw the pregnancy book on your table when you had me in for coffee the other day. I suppose it’s that no-good ex-husband’s child.”

“Yes.” She barely kept herself from correcting Jeb, from telling him that she wasn’t divorced and that Ford wasn’t no-good. That he was just too caught up in making money to care much about creating a family.

Or about her.

“Well, it’s your business when you tell other people, but if you need anything, I’m right next door.”

“Thanks, Jeb.” Olivia got in the car and started the engine, her hand shaking. In Pine Bluff, keeping to herself was nearly impossible. The town was small, the people friendly and curious about the newcomer in their midst. Being standoffish or closed-mouthed would only make them talk about her more and that was the last thing Olivia wanted.

Blend in.

She could hear the words that had been pounded into her from the moment she’d agreed to enter the witness protection program. Don’t do anything that is going to get you noticed.

That was a lot easier said than done when you were single and pregnant in small-town America. Soon, the little bulge of her stomach was going to grow. The baby that she’d been able to hide up to this point wouldn’t be hidden any longer. When that happened, people would talk.

But, please, God, don’t let any of Martino’s men be around to hear it.

The sun dipped below distant mountains as Olivia drove across town, shrouding streets and alleys in shadows. As always, the darkness brought memories. The gun. The explosion of sound as it was fired point-blank into another man’s head. Vincent Martino’s cold face illuminated by moonlight. No matter how hard Olivia fought to let go of her old life, she couldn’t rid herself of it. Perhaps that was why she felt so on edge, so nervous.

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.

TWO

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.

“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.”

“Ford Jensen.”

“And I’m Olivia Jarrod,” Olivia said, offering her hand to the tall, dark-haired marshal as if having marshals barge into her home was an everyday occurrence. For all Ford knew, it was.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Jarrod. Marshal McGraw said he’d contacted you about relocation?”

“That’s right.”

“Good. You’ve got ten minutes to pack a bag. Then we’ll head out. Mr. Jensen, you’ll be going with Marshal Louis. He’s going to escort you to Billings where you’ll be briefed to enter the witness protection program.”

“Sorry, but I’m staying with my wife.”

“Wife? You two are separated, right?” The second of the two men spoke up, his gaze shooting from Ford to Olivia and back again.

“We are,” Olivia said.

“We were.”

“Sorry to have to break off the discussion, but we’ve got to get moving. Headquarters wants you both out of Pine Bluff. The sooner the better.” Marshal James smiled but there was a hardness to his expression that Ford didn’t miss. He seemed on edge, his gaze darting from one corner of the room to another as if he expected to find danger hiding there.

“You think the Martinos know Olivia is here?” Ford asked, his muscles tensing at the thought. The men they’d sent to question him about Olivia had been more than willing to murder to get what they wanted. That knowledge had driven Ford from Chicago to Atlanta, from there to Maryland and finally to Montana following leads from the private investigative firm he’d hired to help him with the search.

“If you found her, someone else might. Better to relocate now than regret that we didn’t tomorrow.”

“I just need to pack a few things, and I’ll be ready to go,” Olivia said, cutting into the conversation and stepping toward the hall.

“I’ll give you a hand.” Ford followed, ignoring the hard look she shot in his direction.

“Thanks, but I’ve been packing for myself for a long time.”

“An extra set of hands will get it done more quickly, and I agree with the marshals. The sooner we all get out of here the happier I’ll be.”

“I’ll work more quickly without a distraction.”

“Is that all I am?” he asked quietly so that only Olivia could hear.

“We’re in a hurry, Ford. I don’t have time for word games or deep discussions about what you are to me.”

She was right. They didn’t have time to hash things out, but they would. There were things he needed to say, promises he still needed to keep. He’d been given a second chance. He wouldn’t waste it. “Go ahead and pack. I’ll wait here.”

She nodded and disappeared into a room at the head of the hall. He wanted to stand in the threshold, watch her pack and assure himself that she wasn’t going to disappear the way she had in December, but there’d been too many times in their marriage when he’d disregarded her feelings and ignored her requests. He wouldn’t do it now.

“Mr. Jensen, I’m going to put in a call to our Billings office. We may be able to get the okay to move you and Ms. Jarrod together. I can’t promise anything, though.” Marshal James pulled a cell phone from his pocket.

“It doesn’t matter what the Billings office says, I’m going with Olivia.”

“Look, I understand how you feel, but—”

Glass shattered and something exploded, the living room filling with smoke and flames. Thrown backward by the force of the explosion, Ford slammed into the wall, the breath forced from his lungs. If he was hurt, he didn’t feel it. All he felt was the panicked need to get to Olivia, to make sure she was alright. He scrambled to his feet, weaving a little as he moved into the hall.

“Olivia!” He shouted, the words lost in the crackle and hiss of the fire that was spreading toward him.

Olivia raced from the room, her face a pale oval in the thickening gloom. “What happened? Where are the marshals?”

“I don’t know, but we’ve got to get out of here. Is there a back door?”

“Through the kitchen.”

“Come on then,” he grabbed her hand, tugging her past hot flames and into the kitchen. He’d never been a praying man, had never believed in anything but his own strength and determination, but over the past few months he’d started doing what he’d never thought he would, asking for a miracle. He’d gotten it. He’d found Olivia. Safe. Alive. Was it too much to ask for more?

Please, just let me get her out of here.

He pulled her through the kitchen, opened the back door, inhaling cool, fresh air.

“Ford, no,” Olivia shouted. “They might be out there. Let’s wait for the marshals. They’ll know what to do.”

The marshals.

Ford hadn’t seen either since the explosion.

Were they alive?

He couldn’t leave the house without being sure. Couldn’t abandon two men to the flames.

“Wait here. I’ll go see if I can find them,” he said, stepping away from the door and the sweet promise of escape.

“You can’t go back in there. The smoke is too thick. You’ll never be able to find your way through it.”

“I can’t leave two men to die. Give me two minutes. If I’m not back by then, you’re going to have to make a run for it.”

“No!”

“I love you, Livy. I always have.” He pressed a kiss to her lips and sprinted out of the kitchen and into the thickening smoke, the words echoing in his ears, reminding him of all the things he should have said, all the time he should have spent. He’d worked hard, made millions of dollars in hundreds of real estate deals, but he’d lost the only thing he’d ever truly valued.

Lost, but found again.

He couldn’t die. Wouldn’t die. Not when Olivia might still need him.

He dropped to his knees, smoke stinging his eyes and lungs and crawled back into the living room, praying that he would make it back to Olivia before the flames consumed the house and everything in it.

THREE

Two minutes.

One-hundred twenty seconds.

Such a short amount of time, but Olivia knew better than most that a few moments could change a life completely. In December, she’d celebrated Christmas alone, congratulating herself on not giving in to her parents’ demands to fly to Florida to be with them. She’d dressed up on Christmas Eve and attended candlelight service, refusing to feel self-conscious about being there alone. Then she’d returned home and decorated a tiny Christmas tree, drank hot chocolate and danced to “The Nutcracker Suite.” Alone and independent and almost happy to be that way.

And then it had all changed.

Ford had come knocking, telling her all the things he knew she wanted to hear. Somehow she’d fallen into the fantasy of renewal, glimpsed the dreams she’d given up on and let herself believe that he’d changed. Regret had come immediately, and she’d run outside and into more trouble than she’d ever imagined she could find. Now she was a puppet, pulled by invisible strings, going in directions she didn’t want to.

She coughed, thick smoke filling her throat and burning her eyes. How long before the fire spread to the kitchen? How long before the entire house was engulfed in flames? Could she afford to wait any longer for Ford to return?

Could she live with herself if she left without him?

Lord, please, let him come back soon.

The prayer whispered through her mind as she grabbed a dish towel, soaked it and covered her mouth and nose. It wasn’t just herself she needed to worry about. She had the baby to think of. An innocent life she needed to protect. But she couldn’t just leave Ford and the two marshals to die.

She dropped to her hands and knees, crawling to the kitchen threshold. “Ford!” she shouted, but the words barely carried through the dish towel and over the crackling roar of the fire.

“Ford!” She tried again, and this time a shadow appeared in front of her. Broad and tall and darker than the thick smoke. Olivia blinked, scrambling backward.

“I thought I told you to leave!” Ford shouted, towering over her, one of the marshals held in a fireman carry over his shoulder. Another man followed close behind.

“I was worried,” she said, standing, relief and fear mixing, stealing her breath and her strength. She put a hand on the wall, steadying herself.

“You could have worried from outside. Come on. The whole living room is in flames. It won’t take long for it to spread to the roof.”

“Let me go first.” Marshal James limped out from behind Ford.

She followed him to the kitchen door, the smoke thicker, the room nearly black with it. She coughed, gagging on the moist, hot air she inhaled.

“Wait until I call for you,” Marshal James said as he stepped outside. Several seconds passed as the fire in the living room crackled and hissed and the thick blackness intensified.

Ford pressed in close to Olivia, leaning out the door, still carrying the fallen man. “If he doesn’t call us outside soon, we’re walking out without the go-ahead. The way that fire is blazing, the whole place could collapse.”

The imagine of the house shuddering, then falling in on itself flashed through Olivia’s head. Not a pretty picture. Especially if she, Ford and Marshal Louis were still in the house when it happened.

“All right. We’re clear. Come on,” Marshal James said as he reappeared in the doorway and took Olivia’s arm, gently guiding her down the back steps. “Are you okay, Ms. Jarrod.”

“Fine. It’s your partner I’m worried about,” she responded, pulling off the wet cloth and turning to watch as Ford approached. Cool air bathed her cheeks, filled her lungs. She was safe. They were all safe. For now.

Ford stopped beside her, carefully lowering the unconscious marshal to the ground, and bending over him. “He’s still breathing, but his head is bleeding a lot. We need to call an ambulance.”

“Already done,” Marshal James said, his voice raspy with smoke.

“Maybe we should wait at a neighbor’s house until they come. I don’t like the idea of Olivia being out here in the open.” Ford put a hand on Olivia’s shoulder, and she knew she should step away. He was her husband and the father of her child, but whatever else he’d been had died a long time ago. Allowing herself to believe differently would only make it harder to say goodbye.

“Go, but not to the neighbors. Find a ride out of town and keep going until you’ve put as much distance between yourself and this town as you can,” Marshal James said, as he leaned over his partner. He didn’t look at Olivia and Ford as he said it, and for a moment Olivia thought the smoke and heat had wreaked havoc on her brain cells.

“What are you saying, James? You want us to leave the program? Go out on our own?” Ford asked, frowning a little as he met Olivia’s gaze.

“What I’m saying is that we’ve done a great job of keeping Ms. Jarrod safe.” He looked up, his expression hard and grim. “Look, I could lose my job for saying this, but I’d rather lose my job than see you or your wife lose your life. There’s a leak somewhere in the organization. We’ve suspected it for a while, but can’t find it. If you stay in the program, there’s no guarantee either of you will live to see the Martino trial.”

“But—” Olivia began, the sound of sirens cutting off whatever question she planned to ask. Good thing, because she wasn’t sure what to ask. What to say.

“Sounds like help is here. Better make your decision about what you want to do before they come back here.”

“It’s made. Thanks for the warning. Come on, Olivia. Let’s go,” Ford said, taking her hand and pulling her across the backyard.

“Go where?” Olivia asked, but she didn’t resist his gentle grip. Didn’t even try to pull away as they walked through the yard of the house behind hers.

“Like Marshal James suggested—far away from here.”

A shout came from somewhere behind them, and Olivia’s pulse jumped. She glanced back, saw the house nearly consumed by flames, dark figures spilling around the side and into the backyard. Firefighters? Police? More federal marshals?

“If we’re going it alone, we’d better pick up the pace. You game?” Ford asked, and she looked up into his face. It wasn’t often he asked an opinion and rare that he included anyone else in his plans. What was he thinking? Worrying about?

There was no time to ask.

No time for anything but a quick nod. “Yes.”

They ran through the yard behind Olivia’s, cut around the side of the house and out onto a sidewalk where a crowd of people stood staring at the flames that shot up into the black sky. If anyone watched Olivia and Ford race away from the scene, Olivia didn’t notice. She was too busy trying to keep pace with Ford.

Dusk threw long shadows across the road as Ford pulled Olivia away from the crowd and further along the quiet street. At six foot two he was nine inches taller than Olivia, his long legs eating up the ground at a pace she normally wouldn’t be able to match. Funny how motivating fear could be. Not only was Olivia able to keep up, but she thought she might just be able to beat Ford in a race.

Her legs ached, her lungs burned, but fear spurred her on.

A leak in the organization. Rather lose my job than see you dead.

The marshal’s words chanted through Olivia’s mind in time to the frantic beat of her heart. A leak in the U.S. Marshals? Was that how the two murder victims had been found?

Did it matter?

She’d been found. Any illusion she’d had that the marshals could keep her safe was gone. She wasn’t safe. Wouldn’t be safe as long as the Martino family thought they could keep her from the trial.

A sharp pain ripped through her side, and she gasped, bending over so suddenly Ford nearly pulled her off her feet before he was able to stop. Hunched over, gasping for breath, she grabbed her side. Please, just let it be a cramp. Please don’t let anything be wrong with the baby.

“You okay?” Ford brushed hair from Olivia’s face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. Warm. So familiar. More welcome than they should be. Would he be touching her with such kindness if he knew she was pregnant? Or would he turn and walk away, leaving her alone as he had so many times during their marriage?

“Fine,” she managed to say as she straightened and moved away from his touch. Things were complicated enough. No way would she complicate them more by thinking about the past. Ford was her husband for now, the father of her baby forever, but he would never again be the man who’d held her heart in his hands.

“Are you sure?” He scanned her face, his eyes glimmering darkly in the dim streetlight.

“Yes. We’d better keep moving. The marshals will be looking for us.” So would Martino’s men, but giving voice to that fear would only make it more terrifying, and Olivia kept it to herself.

Ford glanced back the way they’d come, and frowned. “You’re right. It doesn’t look like anyone followed us, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe.”

“We need to get out of town.”

“I was thinking the same thing. The problem is, both our cars are back at your place.”

“There’s a train station the next town over. I’m sure someone would give us a ride there.” She hadn’t had much of a chance to build friendships in Pine Bluff, but she was sure that her neighbor Jeb would give her a ride if she asked. If not, one of her coworkers at the diner or someone from church might be willing to help.

“I’ve got two problems with that. The first is that we’d be putting someone else in danger. The second is that the train station is going to be the first place anyone searching for you will look. I saw a used car lot just outside of town. If I can get to it, I can buy us a ride.”

“It’s three miles from here. That’s too far to walk with the marshals searching for us.”

“The marshals aren’t the only ones searching, and they’re not the most dangerous. That’s exactly why I’m going alone.”

“You can’t.”

“Of course I can. Anyone searching for us will be looking for two people. They won’t pay much attention to a lone guy wandering around town,” he sounded confident and sure of himself, but that was how Ford always sounded. If he ever had doubts, he didn’t let anyone know about them. If he had worries he didn’t share.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s the only one we have. There’s a church up ahead. We’ll see if it’s open. If it is, you can stay there until I get back.”

“Ford—”

“I don’t like this any more than you do, Livy. I’ve spent months searching for you. I don’t want to let you out of my sight, but I can’t see any other way to get us out of Pine Bluff.” He led her up the church’s wide steps and pushed open the door, urging her inside.

“Maybe we should forget all about leaving town and go back to my house. The trial is only three weeks away. I’m sure the marshals can keep me safe until then,” she said as she stepped into the brightly lit building. The wide corridor lined with doors was silent and empty but for several wooden benches lined up against the walls.

“They didn’t tonight. And if there’s really a leak like Marshal James said, they won’t be able to. The best thing we can do is go underground and stay there until the date of the trial.”

“For all we know, Marshal James is wrong and there is no leak. It’s possible the Martinos followed you or that they found me the same way you did.”

“I’ve been trekking back and forth across Montana since a lady in Billings recognized your photograph. I’m talking miles of open road with nothing but blue sky and mountains as far as the eye could see. If someone had been following me I would have known it.”

“So it’s just a coincidence that you found me and then Martino’s men did?” Olivia sank onto one of the benches, suddenly too tired to stand, too tired to argue and almost too tired to care whether she and Ford made it out of town.

“I don’t know. I just know I wasn’t followed.” Ford sounded as tired as Olivia felt. That was so unlike him, so different from the constantly moving, constantly energized man she’d married that Olivia studied his face, looking for some sign of what he’d been through in the months since she’d gone into witness protection. Aside from the scar that bisected his right cheek, he looked the same. Handsome. Strong. Confident. She wanted to reach out, trace the line of the scar, let her fingers linger on warm flesh.

She blinked, surprised by the train of her thoughts. Uncomfortable with them. Aside from her lapse of judgment two days after Christmas, Olivia had been separated from Ford for over a year. She’d been planning to sign divorce papers when she returned to Chicago for Martino’s trial. In her mind, what they’d had was over.

She needed to keep it that way.

She rubbed the back of her neck, tried to refocus her thoughts. “Arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“That’s why I’m leaving. Give me an hour. If I’m not back by then…” he hesitated, then continued. “Call the FBI. Ask for Jackson McGraw. He’s the agent in charge of the Martino trial. Tell him you don’t feel like the marshals can keep you safe.”

“You think he’ll be able to offer some other form of protection?”

“I don’t know, and I’m praying that you won’t have to find out. Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He leaned down, brushing his lips over hers just as he had in her kitchen, the heat of his touch sweeping through Olivia, sending her back to other less complicated times. Times when she’d really believed that Ford would always love her.

“Stay here, Liv. Promise me.”

“I promise.” The words escaped before she realized they were forming, and Olivia bit her lip to keep from taking them back. What good would it do? If Ford came back, good. If not…she’d leave on her own. Going back to the FBI and marshals wasn’t something she planned to do.

Ford walked outside, disappearing from view, and Olivia sat for several moments, her fingers pressing against her lips. He’d kissed her. Twice.

And he’d said he loved her.

It had been a long time since she’d heard those words.

Restless, she stood, pacing to windows that flanked either side of the door. Outside, darkness painted the street and houses in broad black strokes, hiding whatever danger might be hiding there. Olivia scanned the area, watching as a few people wandered past the church. Young. Laughing and jostling one another as they walked. Life went on the way it had before the fire had destroyed Olivia’s home, before she’d nearly died, but she had changed. She’d realized that the responsibility for her safety lay in her own hands rather than the hands of others. If she were going to survive, if her baby was going to survive, she’d have to keep that in mind.

She sighed, letting her hand rest on her stomach. She wanted to open the door, run out into the night and disappear into the darkness. Wanted to forget about Vincent Martino, forget about the trial, forget everything but creating a good life for her child. She wanted to, but couldn’t. Vincent Martino was a cold-blooded killer. Olivia had watched him shoot a rival crime boss. If Olivia didn’t testify, he might go free. Free to kill again. That was something Olivia couldn’t allow.

“Miss? Can I help you?” A woman asked, her voice coming behind Olivia.

Olivia jumped, her heart slamming against her ribs as she turned to face the woman. “No, I was just…”

What was she doing? Hiding from the federal government and hired assassins didn’t seem like an answer she should give.

“I heard you come in several minutes ago, but I was on the phone with a parishioner. Couldn’t get the poor old soul off the phone. You know how that is,” the woman said, smiling from behind large, broad-rimmed glasses.

“Yes.”

“I did finally manage to convince her that choir practice shouldn’t be canceled just because she couldn’t make it. And, now, I’ll be happy to help you with whatever it is you need.” Her smile continued as she drew closer, her gold-green eyes resting on Olivia’s face, dropping to her clothes and then returning. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. I’m just waiting for a friend. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is,” she responded, her wiry gray hair bouncing as she cocked her head to the side. “I hope you don’t think I’m being nosey, but it looks like you’ve been in an accident. Is there something I can do to help?”

An accident?

For a moment Olivia wasn’t sure what the woman was talking about. Then it clicked. The fire. Heaven knew what she looked like after standing in the smoky kitchen and crawling across the floor. The rag she’d wrapped around her face had probably streaked whatever soot and grime had been there. She started to wipe at her cheeks, but stopped herself. The damage was already done and the mess she was in couldn’t be hidden. She needed to answer the question in such a way that the woman didn’t feel the need to call the police. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine. It’s just…I was in a house fire.”

“That explains all those sirens I heard. It sounded like the entire fire department was racing through town.”

“It was an extensive fire. I think my house is totally destroyed. The firefighters are still working to control the blaze, and I just couldn’t bear to watch it burn. I started walking and found myself here. It seemed like the right place to stop.” The words spewed out, and Olivia bit her lip to keep from saying more. Too much information, and she might give something away that she shouldn’t.

“I’m glad you thought so. You’ve been through something terrible, but thank the good Lord you survived. Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll get you some hot, sweet tea. Is there someone you’d like me to call for you? A friend or family member who can take you in until your house is rebuilt? If not, I’m sure someone in our church can help you out.”

“I’ve got my…” Husband. The word was on the tip of her tongue, but she refused to give it voice. She’d put Ford in a box after she’d left Chicago. A box she’d titled The Man I Used To Be Married To. Changing the title just might change how she saw him, and that could only lead to hurt. “Friend. He’ll be here shortly.”

“Good. I’d hate for you to be alone at a time like this. Especially in your condition.”

“Condition?”

“You’re not pregnant?”

Surprised, Olivia glanced down at her stomach. She’d noticed the slight pop to her belly. Now, in the course of several hours, two other people had commented on it. One of them was a complete stranger. How long would it take Ford to notice? “I didn’t think it was that noticeable.”

“I’m sure it’s not, but I’ve got three daughters and nine grandkids. I can spot a pregnant woman a mile away. Now, how about I get you that tea?”

“That’s okay. I’m fine. I’ll just wait here until my friend comes if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. I’ll be in the office if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” Olivia smiled, but it fell away as soon as the woman disappeared into an office at the end of the hall.

In the two and a half months it had been since she’d taken the first pregnancy test and realized she was carrying Ford’s child, she’d felt guilty for not letting him know. That guilt had been tempered by the reality of her situation. If she contacted him, there was every chance the Martinos would find her. It had been a valid excuse for keeping him in the dark, but there was no excuse now. She’d been found. Ford had reentered her life. Telling him about the baby was the only logical thing to do.

Except that Ford had made it very clear he didn’t want children. Ever. They’d discussed it before their marriage and Olivia had brought it up several times after they’d said “I do,” but Ford’s stance on children hadn’t wavered. They were too much work, too much mess and too time-consuming. He had other things he wanted to expend his energy on.

One thing, anyway.

His career. Building a real estate brokerage and a fortune.

Maybe telling him about the baby was the wrong thing to do. Despite his tender kisses and sweet words of love, Ford was more committed to his work than he was to anything else. A clean break, a new start, was what they both needed, and she was sure that Ford would be happy enough to go back to his busy schedule and workaholic ways once he was sure she was safe.

But could Olivia go on with her life knowing that she had kept something so important from him?

She rubbed the back of her neck as she stared out into the night. In a few months she’d turn thirty-three. An age when she’d thought she would have her life figured out. Instead she was more confused than ever.

A car pulled up in front the church, idled there for a moment and sped away. Olivia shrank back from the window, her heart beating wildly. Worrying about whether or not she should tell Ford about the baby was a waste of energy. What she should really be worrying about was getting out of Pine Bluff alive.

You shouldn’t be worrying about anything. God is in control. You just have to trust Him.

The thought flitted through her mind, and she tried to cling to it, believe it. But belief was as elusive as a dream, and all she could do was pray that whatever decision she made would be the right one.

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