“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?
