by Ruff, K. S.
Dr. Sandstrom’s bright blue eyes softened. “I was hoping you would share some of those experiences, but I understand if you need to temper the details a bit. Have you both seen the school counselor?”
I nodded. “Yes. Thank you for recommending her. She’s been wonderful.”
“What about including a therapist in the training that specializes in PTSD?” Dr. Sandstrom inquired. “That would help students gain some insight into the long term implications of these types of experiences.”
Shae made a notation on her iPad. “I think that’s a great idea. A therapist could offer insight on where people who experience this kind of trauma can go to get help.”
“I met with a therapist who specializes in PTSD after Justin kidnapped me. I can see if she would be willing to participate in the seminar. Are we able to offer any kind of stipend, or are we limited to people who will volunteer their time?”
Dr. Sandstrom’s face knit with concern. “You’ve been kidnapped twice?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Shae muttered under her breath.
I instantly regretted mentioning it. “That kidnapping occurred two years ago, before I began graduate school.” I paused briefly while weighing whether to disclose anything further. “I’d rather not talk about it. What do you think of the stipend?”
Dr. Sandstrom leaned back in his chair and quietly studied me. “I just want you to know I’m here for you… if you ever do need someone to talk to. I’ll see if I can drum up some money for a stipend. How does a hundred dollars sound for each of the guest speakers?”
Shae and I exchanged glances. “That sounds good to me,” Shae replied.
“Me too,” I agreed. “Thanks, Dr. Sandstrom.”
“What about your own compensation for designing and leading the seminar?” he asked. “Have you two agreed on a fee for developing the course?”
“Do you plan to make this personal risk seminar a permanent part of your curriculum?” Shae asked.
Dr. Sandstrom nodded. “Yes. We’ve decided to make this one of the core requirements for our conflict resolution program. Students will receive one credit toward their degree for attending the three day seminar.”
I took a deep breath and blew it out before glancing over at Shae.
She nodded.
“We’d like to waive financial compensation in exchange for something else,” I admitted, returning my attention to Dr. Sandstrom.
He leaned forward in his chair, his interest clearly piqued. “Go on…”
“We’d like you to offer our friend, Oni, a spot in your graduate program, starting winter semester. We met Oni in Ukraine. She finishes her undergraduate degree in international relations from the Tavrida National Vernadsky University this fall. She’s a really smart girl, one of the top students in her class, and she expressed an interest in our program when we were in Ukraine,” I explained.
Dr. Sandstrom’s eyes widened. “This is… unexpected.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Can she afford the tuition?”
I shook my head. “I seriously doubt it. I was hoping she might qualify for some scholarships. She can live with me if need be.”
He jotted something in the day planner on his desk. “Why are you asking for this?”
I looked down at my hands in an effort to conceal the tears that had pooled in my eyes.
Shae squeezed my hand. “We’re worried about Oni. We’re afraid she could be in danger because she was so closely affiliated with us when we were in Ukraine. She’s been speaking out against government corruption, the SVR, and Russia’s meddling in Ukrainian politics, which puts her at risk.”
“Speaking out against oppressive governments and pressuring political leaders to seek change is an important step in conflict transformation,” Dr. Sandstrom lectured. “If we offered asylum to all those who spoke out against corrupt and oppressive governments, we’d be compromising our ability to improve civil liberties, human rights, and human security.”
“I know,” I conceded softly. “I’m just worried about her. I want her safe. Please just think about it. I’ll pay her tuition and her airfare over here if I have to, but please just consider bringing her into the program. She’ll offer valuable insight into the types of conflicts they face in that region. The other students will learn a lot from her.”
Dr. Sandstrom nodded. “Of that, I have no doubt. I admire your decision to waive the development fee in exchange for her acceptance into the program. I’ll speak with the provost and the dean and see what I can do. In the interim, ask her to complete an application. Have her send the application, three letters of recommendation, and a certified copy of her undergrad transcript directly to me.”
I jumped out of my chair. “Really? Oh, God. Thank you! Thank you so much!” I skirted the desk and gave him a hug. “I know you’re not making any promises. I’m just so happy you’re even considering this.”
Dr. Sandstrom laughed. “I’ll try to make it happen.” He rose from the desk and gave Shae a hug. “We best head over to the classroom. We’re already late.”
We joined Jase and Chance in the hallway. “Heading over to class?” Jase asked.
I nodded.
“One last question,” Dr. Sandstrom interjected as we walked down the hallway. “Does she know you’re doing this?”
“No,” I confessed. “She has no idea.”
Dr. Sandstrom paused just outside the door to the classroom. “You’ve been corresponding through e-mail, I presume.”
“Yes,” I replied. “Oni reached out to me through my work e-mail when she heard what happened in Sevastopol. We’ve been e-mailing off and on since then.”
“Do you have another way to reach her?” he asked.
I glanced at Shae.
“I could ask Konstantin to deliver a message to her,” Shae offered. “He lives in Ukraine,” she explained to Dr. Sandstrom. “He calls to check on me a couple of times a week, and I think his phone is pretty secure given the nature of his work.”
Dr. Sandstrom nodded. “I think a personal messenger might be the best way to deliver this news to her. Your friend’s e-mails are probably being monitored. If she is speaking out against the Russian government, it would be best to keep these plans to bring her to the United States as quiet as possible. We don’t want the SVR throwing up any roadblocks or tracing her to you.”
I glanced at Jase as he took a step toward me. He was listening to our conversation, and he didn’t look very pleased. “I agree,” I replied hesitantly.
“I’ll have Konstantin download the application to the university and personally deliver it to Oni so it doesn’t appear on her computer. It isn’t uncommon for students in undergrad programs to request copies of their transcripts, so that shouldn’t raise any red flags. She’s going to have to be careful about who writes the letters of recommendation for grad school and avoid any references to our university. Can Kri and I write two of the three letters?” Shae asked.
Dr. Sandstrom nodded. “That would be fine.”
“I’ll ask Konstantin to collect the documents once Oni is finished. He can mail them to our office at Seeds for Peace. Konstantin is going to Poland for a business meeting next week. Maybe he can mail the documents while he’s there. That’s probably safer than mailing the documents from Ukraine. Of course, we’re operating under the assumption that Oni is going to want to do this,” Shae admitted.
“She will,” I stated confidently. I stepped forward, intending to follow Shae and Dr. Sandstrom into the classroom, but Jase grabbed my arm.
“Kristine and I need a minute,” he informed Dr. Sandstrom. Glowering at me, he said, “I want to know what you’re getting yourself into, and I want to know now.”
* * * * *
“You want to do what?” Rafael exclaimed. He pulled his gloves off and stilled the punching bag before turning to face me. His long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Thin cotton pants hung low on his hips, his narrow waist accentuated by incredibly broad shoulders an
d a finely-chiseled chest. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. His caramel colored skin was glistening with sweat. I suspected most people found Rafael’s muscular physique a little intimidating, but I loved seeing him like this. It did unspeakable things to me.
I perched nervously on the edge of the weightlifting bench with my back turned toward the mirrored wall. “I want to get Oni out of Ukraine. I’m trying to get her accepted into my graduate program, and if they don’t offer her a large enough scholarship, I’d like to invite her to come live with me.”
“With us,” Rafael corrected. He dropped onto the bench across from me.
I turned toward him. “Well, yes, with us.” We were taking turns staying at each other’s house, so we were practically living together.
He pulled my knees between his, bracketing me between his well-muscled thighs. “You were around Oni for what? A week?”
“Yes,” I conceded. “But we spent a lot of time together in Simferopol.”
Rafael frowned. “You don’t know this girl, Kristine. She could be working for Maxim or for the SVR for all you know. What if Maxim is paying her to drive a wedge between us, or what if the SVR has threatened to kill her unless she leads them to you?”
I shook my head. “This wasn’t Oni’s idea. It was mine. She doesn’t even know Shae and I are trying to get her into our graduate program yet. Shae is going to ask Konstantin to deliver the news in person, so the information isn’t intercepted in an e-mail or over the phone. He’ll handle all the application materials and mail them to Seeds for Peace from Poland.”
Rafael sighed. “I knew the two of you were e-mailing, but I didn’t realize you were considering this. She’s never asked for your help in getting her out of there? She didn’t ask to come live with you? With us?” he corrected.
I met his gaze head on. “No. She’s never suggested anything even close to this. The only thing she did was express an interest in our graduate program when I was working at her university.”
Rafael reached for my hands. “I don’t know, Kristine. I can understand why you’d want to help her, but you don’t know this girl very well. I’m worried someone else could be using her to get close to you.”
“What if I help get her into the graduate program and secure enough scholarship money so she can live on campus or in an apartment of her own?” I asked.
“That pill would be a little easier for me to swallow,” he confessed. Rafael stood and pulled me to my feet. “I’m not telling you ‘no,’ Kristine. I want to support you in the things that are important to you, but I want to ensure you approach this in a way that doesn’t put you at risk.”
I exhaled softly. “I know.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “I love you.”
I swallowed a throat full of tears as I burrowed into his chest. “I love you too, Rafael.”
I hoped it was enough.
Chapter 3 – Me and my broken heart
“Are you ready for this?” I asked, hopping out of my jeep.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Cenia replied cheerfully. She locked her car with the key fob. “Hey, Jase. How are you doing?”
“Good… a little concerned about what I might be up against in there.” He jerked his head toward the storefront for David’s Bridal.
“Me too,” Cenia agreed. “Kri, are you loaded up with enough caffeine?”
I hopped in place and shook out my arms. “Yep. I had two cups of coffee before I left the house and a Venti with an extra shot from Starbucks during the drive over here. Now I gotta pee.”
Cenia laughed. “Why don’t you hit the bathroom while I get signed in?”
Jase opened the door and waved us in. “After you.” He shuddered when he got a load of all the dresses.
“Bathrooms?” I asked the first sales associate I saw. The store had just opened so it was still pretty empty.
“Back there,” she replied, nodding toward the far corner of the store.
I tapped Cenia on the arm. “Keep your cell phone handy. I don’t want to lose you in a sea of satin.”
She laughed as she glanced up from the appointment book. “You got it.”
Jase followed me back to the restrooms. He ducked inside the men’s room when I walked inside the ladies’ room. He met me back in the hallway. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
I laughed. “I can’t believe you’re doing this either. I would have been perfectly safe with Cenia. She may be tiny but she packs a powerful punch. She learned self-defense at the Air Force Academy, and she used to compete in power lifting!”
He glanced at me skeptically as we rounded the corner. “That little meerkat?”
“She’s tiny but mighty,” I replied admiringly. Jase ran into me when I stopped abruptly. “Where did all those women come from?”
His eyes widened. “I think this just got interesting.”
I grabbed his hand. “We’ve gotta find Cenia, quick!” We dodged a number of women as we scoured the aisles. I finally found her stuck in the middle of a long aisle, corralled between two groups of women who were yanking dresses off the rack like their lives depended on it. Cenia wasn’t moving. At all.
Jase lingered at the edge of the aisle as I dove in to rescue her.
“Chicken!” I called behind me.
Cenia’s eyes locked on mine when she heard my voice. Cenia, the very same Cenia who had gone to Trout Lake and Paris to fight bad guys and rescue me, was suddenly sporting the deer in the headlights look.
I squeezed past four of the six women who were completely monopolizing the aisle. “What’s the deal?” I asked Cenia. “Are they offering a prize to the woman who collects the most dresses?”
Cenia shook her head. Her jaw moved when she tried to respond, but no sound came from her mouth.
My eyes widened when I realized just how overwhelmed she felt. I glanced at the dress hogs before grabbing Cenia by the shoulders. “You’ve been looking through bridal magazines, right?”
She nodded.
“Okay. Mermaid style?”
She shook her head.
“Fitted?”
She shook her head again.
“Full skirt? Long train?”
She nodded.
“Lace?”
She shook her head again.
“Okay… size six, satin, full skirt, and long train in ivory or white?”
She nodded again.
I grabbed her arm and pushed past the two women standing on the other end of the aisle. They looked a little less scary than the four ripping through dresses on my end. “Okay,” I said, steering Cenia toward the dressing rooms. “You secure a dressing room and stay put. I’ll bring the dresses to you.”
“Thanks, Kri,” she replied shakily. When she glanced back at me, her chin was quivering.
“Play with your phone. Challenge Kadyn to a game of Word Feud if you have to.” I was hoping it would take her mind off things.
She laughed.
“That’s more like it! Now get in there.” I turned on my heel and headed back toward the aisle where I had discovered Cenia.
Jase eyed the couch longingly.
“Sit,” I said. “We could use a male perspective. You can be our judge.”
He smiled. “Now that sounds more like it.”
I dove into the aisle as the two women on the end barreled out with a pile of dresses. They were buried under an avalanche of lace. The only parts of their bodies I could see were their feet.
I eyed the four women at the far end of the aisle. They were working their way toward me. I started raking through the dresses, skipping the lace, pulling a few out to look at the cut, and shoving them back in again. I quickly forgot about the other women as I began gathering dresses.
“Wait. I want to see that!” the bubblegum popping bimbo with the gigantic boobs said. She tried to yank the dress out of my hand.
No way was I giving up that dress. The ivory dress with embroidered blue flowers was the prettiest one I’d found. “I’m still con
sidering this dress,” I said, holding fast to the garment bag.
She stopped blowing bubbles and glowered at me. “Aunt Maggie, I want this dress, and this bitch is refusing to give it to me.”
The platinum blond with the freakishly large lips tried scowling at me, but the gallon of Botox she had pumped into her face got in the way. Her expression looked… weird. “Give her the dress,” she demanded in a gravelly voice.
I stepped back and looked for an Adam’s apple. I was wondering if she might actually be a man. She wasn’t. “No. I’m taking this dress back to the dressing room for my friend to try on,” I countered firmly.
“Get a different dress,” she gritted.
Her niece grinned. Her arms got all tangled up in her boobs when she tried to fold them across her chest, so she threw her hands on her hips as she snapped off a large pink bubble.
I laughed when the gum stuck to her chin.
“Is she laughing at me?” the bimbo screeched.
The other two women stopped looking for dresses and joined the bubblegum popping bimbo and Scary Face Barbie. All four women glared at me.
I clung to my stash of dresses as I backed toward the opposite end of the aisle.
Scary Face Barbie lunged for the dress.
“Get off me!” I screamed.
“Give me the dress!” she hissed, tearing at the garment bag.
“I know people,” I warned, “really scary people.” I couldn’t believe I had to stoop so low as to threaten the woman, but she wouldn’t let go of the dress.
“Yeah, right,” she snorted. Suddenly her eyes widened. The other three women started backing away from us.
“Is there a problem?” Jase asked in a low, menacing tone. He reached around me and pulled the pile of dresses out of my arms.
I turned around and admired every inch of his hulking six foot three frame. He looked like an assassin with piercing blue eyes, short cropped hair, and a body designed to kill. Jase had served in special ops before going to work for Rafael, so I knew he was lethal. I glanced back at the women. “My bodyguard,” I explained.