Now, he only swallowed, unable to face the depth of those feelings, and how much he’d longed for them. But someone needed to snap his fingers and wake them both up. They had the relationship of a cluster bomb—a blinding flash and lots of pain. Because, she wasn’t going to give up her missionary life.
And he wasn’t going to give up law enforcement.
Sarai leaned into him, raised her chin. “Thank you for the tea.”
“Drink it, and then go to bed. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”
She wasn’t listening. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re cold. You need to change out of those clothes, get into something warm and get some rest.” She opened yet another sugar bowl on the table and picked out a set of keys. “Help yourself to a room at the clinic. I’ll bring you in some breakfast.”
He held out his hand for the keys, noticed that his hand slightly trembled, and quickly closed his fist when she dropped the keys in.
She cupped both hands around his grip. “Roman, I have to tell you something.” She looked up, her beautiful eyes glistening, and it tugged further at the knot of resolve in his chest. With everything in him, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, kiss her until they forgot Bednov and his thugs, children dying from nuclear waste and an icy three-hour ride through Siberia. He wanted to run his hands through her hair and pull her into the dreams he’d nurtured for the past decade.
No, more than that, he wanted to pick her up and disappear into the horizon with the woman he couldn’t seem to forget. Who, even when he had risked her life, still poured all her energy into caring about him, tending his wounds and crystallizing all the whirring energy around him into calm. She alone was the one good reason he had for doing what he did. How he wanted to come home every day to her smile.
“Roman, I apologize to you for…blaming you for being who you are.”
He frowned, trying to get a fix on her words.
She looked down and he resisted the urge to lift her face to his. “For years I said that you were only after glory. But after today, I know I was wrong. Yes, you risk your life, but I know it’s because you’re trying to be the man God wants you to be, and I can’t stand in the way.” She lifted her face, smiled at him.
He felt like crying. Finally, she got it. He cupped her cheek, ran his thumb along it. Opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
She put her hand over his. “I was wrong to walk away from you.” Her eyes filled with emotion. “It wasn’t your fault. I…was afraid I’d see you die in my arms, and I couldn’t live with that.”
He touched her forehead to his. “We’re all going to die, Sarichka. God will determine the time and the place. The key is in living well, with purpose. That’s all I’m trying to do, Sar. To follow God, and live each day 110 percent, doing what He wants me to do.”
She ran her hand behind his neck, pushed to her tiptoes and kissed him.
He reacted on instinct, from the place of hopes and longings, putting his arms around her, pulling her tight and kissing her back.
Kissing her like a man who’d just remembered what it felt like to be young, and in love, with a hope and future before him. She melded her body to his, softening her mouth so he could kiss her deeper.
Danger, Roman. A voice inside him, the one he’d cultivated over the years of being a man of God began to speak. Danger! With everything he had in him, he pushed her away.
She slid slightly away from him, shock on her own pretty face. She closed her mouth, swallowed and turned the faintest shade of red. “I’m sorry. I guess I just… Probably I’m just emotional… It’s been a long—”
He put his hand to her chin, angled her eyes to meet his and kissed her again, softly, just to stop her words.
“Sarai, I should leave.”
“I’m worried about you. You could be hurt. I should probably go with you to the clinic, make sure you’re okay.” She reached for him, as if attempting to touch his ribs.
He caught her hands. “No.” The light in her eyes dimmed slightly. “Sarai, I, ah, you’re so beautiful. Even with David looking over my shoulder 24/7, I had a hard time keeping my wits about me whenever I was around you. I need to go. If I stay, or take you with me…well, although I’m a Christian, I’m still a man, and the Christian inside me is telling the man that I need to leave. Now. And as much as I’d like to stay, I want to do the right thing here.”
He stared back into her beautiful eyes and summoned the courage to smile. “I’m going now. Be sure to lock the door behind me.”
She nodded, and he let himself enjoy her slight smile, despite the guilt strumming at his heart.
Only, hadn’t she just said she understood his calling, his career? Maybe she’d happily leave Irkutsk with Vicktor, and wait for him in Khabarovsk…
Yeah, and maybe he’d become the hero his father never was, and save the world from terrorists, and even establish world peace. He shook his head as he gave her a final look, then stepped out.
He was praying hard that Bednov’s boys were still sleeping soundly at his dacha. Still, Roman mentally did the math. Probably he could expect them on Sarai’s doorstep by morning.
There went his overactive FSB imagination.
Probably, after today they’d surmise she’d already fled the country.
Please, please.
Because, of course, she wouldn’t be so stupid as to stay in Smolsk with the mafia on her tail? He wanted to head-slap himself. Where had his brain been an hour ago?
A smart FSB agent would bundle up the cute girl upstairs and secret her out of the country, double time.
Or, he could head to the clinic and see if Vicktor had arrived at the clinic yet, like Yanna had promised.
He mounted the snowmobile and braved the wind to The Savior’s Hands Medical Clinic.
The building seemed cold and forlorn. Dark windows overlooked the yard as he pulled up. No movement. No reinforcements.
Which meant he was on his own. The cold found him—he’d been partially thawed after a few minutes in Sarai’s flat—and he shivered. He needed some tea, maybe soup. And some shut-eye.
Most of all he needed a game plan, preferably one that included saving Sarai’s backside and taking down Bednov.
He parked the snowmobile and found the key to the clinic.
It stuck only a moment in the lock, but long enough for him to catch the movement behind him.
Roman whirled and punched his attacker directly in the windpipe.
Roman Novik loved her. Sarai let that thought sizzle inside her as she downed the last of her tea. He still loved her. In fact, maybe he’d never stopped.
Well, neither had she.
Their love hadn’t died, evident from the way he’d looked at her, kissed her when she’d practically launched herself into his arms. Their romance had just been banked for rekindling.
Sarai put her teacup in the sink, turned off the light and went to her bedroom. Tomorrow she’d pack her things and leave. Not forever. Just long enough for Roman to get her safely out of the province, and hopefully redeem himself with his boss. Then, she’d pull a few strings—or maybe ask him to—and then…
What?
She’d return, roll up her sleeves and start saving the world again? What about Roman?
She pulled up the covers to her neck and closed her eyes. They needed policemen in this town. After all, didn’t they have their own mafia-gang problem?
She could live with Roman doing his police thing as long as she was around to stitch him up.
Mrs. Roman Novik.
Sarai Novik.
Maybe, little Sasha and Masha Novik.
Sarai smiled under the blanket, feeling tired, even giddy.
Maybe she needed a sedative….
“Thank you, Lord, for bringing us safely home.” She said the words aloud, but quietly, suddenly aware of all she’d been through the past few days.
She felt alive and…not forgotten. God
had sent her Roman to rescue her, even if she’d ended up rescuing him. For the first time in more than a decade, she didn’t feel alone.
As if she might be able to take a full breath.
Unexpected tears filmed her eyes.
Roman did that to her. He made her feel safe, even though her world crumbled around her and she was captured by terrorists. Yes, he pushed her to her last nerve, but he also believed in her and respected her.
And protected her. Like earlier tonight, when he’d leaped to her rescue, putting his wounded body between her and her attacker. In fact, he’d put her safety before his own career—by going AWOL and following her to Khanda. Finally, he’d protected her with his honor.
Probably, it was time to trust him. He’d certainly earned it. Especially after she’d offered to hop a plane. She couldn’t believe he’d actually turned her down, knowing how important it was to get her affairs in order. In fact, she had a sneaky feeling he wanted to stay.
She hoped it was because of her.
Why had she pushed him away for so many years?
Fear. And the fact that with him, she felt forced to trust in Someone bigger than herself.
Forced her to trust that God would be there when Roman wasn’t. That, through everything, even the horrible moments, God still loved her.
He did, didn’t He? Because, the Almighty had sent her Roman. The man who promised to always find her.
When he looked at her with his hazel eyes, she felt something inside her shiver with delight, and when he took her in his arms, she felt safe, right down to her cold toes. She let her imagination conjure up the expression he’d wear when she showed up tomorrow with a packed bag. The smile, the warmth in his eyes—it curled something hot and sweet in her stomach.
She’d just have to leave a list of explicit instructions for Anya and Genye. They could call her if they needed anything essential.
You don’t trust God, Sarai.
Roman’s accusation rung in her ears. Just because she wanted to make sure everything was done right didn’t mean that she didn’t let God be in charge. He’d given her this mission and it was her responsibility.
She could let go. She could.
Tomorrow she would. She’d start with telling Roman that she loved him. And then she’d leave town with him before Bednov’s thugs could track them down.
Sarai woke early, despite a dreamless sleep that told her that she’d been exhausted through to her core. She hoped Roman had found a warm bed in the clinic and suffered the slightest twinge of guilt that she hadn’t helped him.
Okay, he could take care of himself. That much she should believe.
He’d been right about her not following him to the clinic. She realized this when she couldn’t wipe the schoolgirl smile off her face.
She showered, and triple layered in silk long johns, a turtleneck and a wool sweater. Just in case she found herself racing across the Siberian steppe.
She did a mental eye-roll. Three days with Roman and she’d turned into a pile of runny oatmeal. Evidently, nothing had changed in that department over the past thirteen years.
She gathered up her essentials—her Bible, visa, passport, a couple extra changes of clothing, toiletries and her picture of Roman. Then, shoving them into a carry-on, she hitched it over her shoulder and left for the clinic.
In the aftermath of the blizzard, the sun shone down and lit the snow-covered roads into a field of fiery diamonds. She drove slowly, praying for people she knew in town on the way to the clinic. Please, Lord, don’t let there be any disasters while I’m gone.
She pulled into the clinic and noticed Roman’s snowmobile, as well as the absence of Anya’s and Genye’s car. They were probably still snowed in at their dacha. And, worried sick. Hadn’t they expected she and Roman back last night?
She’d leave them a note. And instructions. Maybe a few pages of instructions.
The clinic door was locked, and she said a silent thank you to Roman as she unlocked it and let herself inside.
The corridor felt gloomy and lifeless. She flicked on a light and went to her office. Probably, Roman still slept.
He deserved it, poor tired soldier.
She stopped to listen only a moment before she unlocked her office door. Her skin prickled in silent alarm and she attributed it to reflex, the residual jumpiness of being taken hostage.
She opened the door.
Screamed.
Whoever was hunched over in her office chair scrambled out of the blanket and to his feet.
Tall, with dark hair and even darker eyes, he had his gun leveled at her before she could blink.
Sarai screamed again, dropped her bag and reached for the ceiling.
Chapter Seventeen
Roman heard Sarai’s scream and launched himself off the cot, toward Vicktor, whose eyes were probably still adjusting. Roman took down his friend with a grunt that had them both seeing stars. Vicktor kicked at him, scrambling out from underneath his grasp. “Roma, I wasn’t going to shoot her.”
He didn’t answer, just found his feet, turned and pulled Sarai into his arms.
She shook and he buried his face in her hair. “Don’t you think she’s had enough scares for the week?” he snapped at Vicktor.
Roman felt Sarai’s hands on his chest, but refused to give into her push to free herself. Behind him, he heard Vicktor sigh. “Sorry, Sarai. But after Roman’s story, I didn’t know who to expect.”
“What, do you think I’m going to jump you? This is a medical clinic, for crying out loud!”
Probably, Roman had been right to hold on to her, because the anger in Sarai’s voice—or maybe half fear, half indignation—told him she just might have taken a swing at Vicktor.
And Roman wanted Vicktor on his side when they sprung the news on Sarai that she’d be leaving with Vicktor today. Only Vicktor. Trouble was, after last night Vicktor still had trouble swallowing, due to Roman’s line drive to his Adam’s apple…something he hadn’t forgiven Roman for. Yet.
Roman held Sarai away from him, but kept his grip on her arms. Her eyes were wide, tracking between Roman and Vicktor. She’d gone ominously silent.
Then, “What are you doing here?”
Roman swallowed, cut a glance at Vicktor. “He’s going to take you out of here.”
Sarai’s eyes widened. “Wait a sec—You… I thought you were—”
Roman shook his head and stepped away from her, wondering if that swing now might be meant for him. “I must stay and investigate what we found yesterday. Bednov’s connected to all this, and we need to find out how.”
Sarai continued to stare at him, mouth half open.
“You need to leave, Sarai,” Vicktor said quietly. But he used his firm, detective’s voice. No pleading. No softness. Probably the tone Roman should have used with her from hour one.
She looked at him, then back at Roman. “You—no wonder you didn’t want to fly me out last night. You knew he’d be here! You weren’t worried about me, or my clinic. You were worried about getting the bad guy.”
Roman’s face twitched.
“I can’t believe you.” Sarai’s eyes had filmed and she wiped them, apparently not giving quarter to her hurt feelings. “And here I thought you’d come to Irkutsk because you were worried for me.”
“I am—”
“You make me sick. I knew you were only after making a name for yourself. I don’t know why, but I have this nauseating feeling that you were just using me to further your career.” She looked him in the eyes, and he saw the depths of her hurt a second before she blinked it away. Her voice turned cold, calm. “Shame on me for not figuring that out.” She shook her head. “You wanted to know why I left, Roman. Well, here it is—because you only think of yourself. In the end, it’s all about you.” Her voice dropped. “I sure hope it was worth it.” She stalked past them, to her desk. “Get out, both of you.”
“Sar—” Vicktor started.
“Get out! I need to make some notes for Ge
nye and Anya.”
She braced her hands on her desk and Roman saw her tremble. He felt sick, and his stomach writhed. “C’mon, Vicktor.”
Vicktor stood unmoving, a frown on his face as he watched Sarai. “Roman’s on your side, Sarai,” he said quietly. “You can trust him.”
“Get out,” she said, her tone softer. Roman barely overcame the urge to pull her back into his embrace.
“We’ll be outside when you’re ready to go,” he said and motioned to Vicktor. His friend followed him out.
Roman heard the door lock behind them.
Vicktor leaned against the wall, his hands on his knees, and blew out a breath. “That didn’t go well.”
“She’s mad, but she’ll get over it.”
Vicktor looked at Roman. Vicktor had hard, dark blue eyes, and an angular face that hid emotions well. Now, however, it showed a hint of sadness. “No, she won’t. She might forgive me, but I read the look on her face, and well, I’m sorry, Roma. I know you well enough to guess you were hoping for more.”
Roman said nothing, just slid down into a squat, his face in his hands. He hadn’t expected more, but yes, after last night, he’d hoped.
Hoped that she would, indeed, trust him. Trust that he was trying to do things God’s way, even if it didn’t look like her way. Although, at the moment, even he wondered. What, exactly, am I supposed to do here, Lord? Give me wisdom!
He tried not to think of her in his arms, that fragile moment when she’d believed in him.
It didn’t help his confusion that Vicktor hadn’t completely bought into Roman’s idea and harbored his own notions of how to take down Bednov. But Vicktor didn’t know Bednov like Roman did.
He had a gut feeling the newly elected governor was about to abuse his power in new and lucrative ways.
You used me to further your career. The words stung, and he winced.
No.
I hope it was worth the cost.
Roman swallowed back the sick taste of failure in his throat. The cost. In this case, Sarai. No, in all cases, Sarai. When he’d lost her years ago, he’d never healed from the regret. It drove him, irked him.
Forced him to prove himself, over and over, that the job was worth it. That the sacrifices of home, and family—and her respect—were worth it.
Sands of Time Page 18