Present Day

Mara watched as Victor slowly withdrew his hand from his pocket. She had expected him to pull out a gun. Then she remembered the sight of her sister’s mutilated body and bitterly thought maybe he preferred a knife over a gun.

Just as her throat formed a scream, however, what he held in his hand stopped any sound from coming out of her mouth. As he extended his hand toward her, she realized he held the engagement ring box.

She wouldn’t fall for any trap. Her voice came out angry, harsh. “I don’t want it.”

Sadness filled his eyes. He slipped the box back into his pocket and looked over his shoulder. “Can we talk, Ruth?”

“No.” Little dots danced in front of her eyes, and her stomach turned as she thought of Esther’s remains that she’d been forced to identify.

“I have so much I need to tell you, but—I don’t think—”

“Is there a problem, Mara?” Ben asked, walking up her path. Major’s ears perked up, and he vibrated with excitement, but he didn’t move.

Victor’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Mara, now, is it? Very clever.” In the Bible, Ruth’s mother-in-law, Naomi, had changed her name to Mara after her husband and sons died, because Mara meant bitterness. Ruth felt the name fit her circumstances and the state of her heart just fine.

Feeling like her face would crack if she tried to smile, she simply shook her head. “No, Ben, thank you.” Her mouth was so dry that the words coming out sounding so normal surprised her. “He’s looking for someone who isn’t here.”

Victor stared at her for several seconds before nodding and stepping off the porch. “It was good to see you again. I hope I’ll see you next week. Think you’ll make it?”

“With every ounce of strength I possess,” she snapped.

He turned, stared at Ben as if sizing the man up, then walked away without a backward glance. As he walked away, she lowered herself onto the chair on shaking legs. She patted her thigh, and Major moved to sit next to her chair, putting his head in her lap.

“Who was that?” Ben asked.

“Someone from another life.” She gestured at the chair next to her.

He did not sit. Instead, he stood in front of her, leaning back against the railing. “What life might that be?”

Panic caused her heart rate to stay up. Her eyes scanned the street. Where were the police? “I have to go away.” A single tear slipped out of her eye.

Ben knelt in front of her chair and took her hand with both his. His skin felt burning hot compared to her icy fingers. “Go away, where? For how long?”

She licked her lips. “Ben.” After pulling free, she pressed her hands to her chest over her heart, willing it to slow down before it burst completely out of her chest. “I’m sorry. I won’t be back. Not ever.”

With a frown, he said, “I don’t understand.”

“I’m a federal witness in a case against a Russian mafia boss.” When his eyes widened, she gave a small smile, knowing how absurd it sounded, even to her own ears. “I witnessed a killing, a triple murder, actually. Execution. And when I went to the police, they came looking for me. While I sat in a police station giving my statement, they found my sister at home. Major did what he could to protect her, but they—” Her breath caught, and she found she couldn’t verbalize the carnage. She reached forward and cupped his face with her hands. “I am so tired of lying to you. I want you to know that if anything had been different, if my circumstances—”

She looked up as a police cruiser pulled up to her curb. Desperate to leave, she surged to her feet, nearly knocking Ben over. When she rushed inside for her bag and Major’s leash, Ben followed her. “Stay,” he pleaded.

“I can’t!” she closed her eyes, tears falling down her face, and put a hand on her forehead. Think, she told herself. What was she missing? Had she forgotten anything? When she opened her eyes again, Ben stood almost toe-to-toe with her.

“Then let me go with you.” Putting his hands on her shoulders, he gave them a small squeeze. “Mara—”

Taking a deep, deep breath, then slowly letting it out, she started to feel calmer. “I can’t, Ben. You are an amazing man of God, but I am not the one for you. I can’t let you risk your life for me. I won’t.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. You have no idea how much you have helped me.”

When she pulled away, he did not follow her, nor did he insist on going with her. He stood in her doorway and watched as she snapped the leash on Major’s collar and walked down the path to the cruiser.

Six Months Ago

Victor sat at the table and stared at Special Agent Rick Luther, who looked utterly starched and pressed even at three in the morning. “You’re telling us that you had nothing to do, at all, with the operations of the Kovalev Empire?”

His neck prickled with annoyance at the question. So far, the agent had asked that same question three different ways. “I did not. I am a professional boxer. My father agreed to let me focus exclusively on boxing until my retirement, at which time the understanding was that I would start learning the family business. What don’t you understand?”

“I understand what you’re saying, Mr. Kovalev. The problem I’m having with it is that you don’t have anything for us.”

He narrowed his eyes at the agent. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you coming in here, ready to throw your father to us, means nothing.” He laced his fingers on top of his father’s file. “You have no testimony to give me that would convict your father. Which means, to use the common vernacular, you got nothing.”

Victor sat back in his chair and ran his hands over his face. His eyes burned with fatigue. “What do you need?”

“Your father is too cautious. There’s a reason we haven’t put him behind bars yet.” He looked up as the door opened. “I don’t think you can give me anything I need. From what you’ve told me about the events of last night, I feel confident in believing that he won’t trust you.” He stood when the agent at the door beckoned him. “Excuse me.”

Victor inhaled deeply and slowly let his breath out. All of this, for nothing? What good did it do to be Antoly Kovalev’s only son? Not even the FBI appeared impressed with that. He closed his eyes and sought out a moment of peace with God. Despite the helpless feeling by which he currently felt swamped, he knew God would guide his next steps, whatever those may be.

“We might just have caught a break,” Agent Luther said, taking the chair next to Victor rather than across from him. “Your father has been arrested.”

“Arrested?” Confusion rippled through his tired mind. “What do you mean?”

“Your girlfriend showed up at an NYPD station outside of your father’s territory. The body you saw belonged to her sister, Doctor Esther Burnette. Not Ruth.”

Overwhelmed, he rested his forehead on the table and miserably failed to hold back a sudden sadness. Silent tears streamed out of both eyes and puddled on the table. Relief over Ruth’s survival warred with mourning over losing Esther. Fresh anger surged through his heart. If only he had a way to make all of this stop.

Special Agent Luther interrupted his internal battle for control. “Here’s your chance,” he said as if he’d heard Victor’s thoughts, “to get in and infiltrate.”

Victor shook his head as he raised it. With annoyed swipes of his scarred boxer fists, he wiped his cheeks dry. “No way. Boris would never trust me. The woman I brought into the fold—”

“Boris Kovalev is the dumb muscle. I think even he knows it. Humble yourself. Play the doting son and nephew. He’ll likely be relieved if you step up.”

As he thought about his father’s empire, his lip curled in disgust. “Do you understand what they do? The drugs, the women?”

“Listen—”

The sound of his hand slapping the wooden table sounded like a gunshot in the room. “No! You listen. Every minute I sit in here, thousands of women are being held and used against their will. Thousands all over the world.” He leaned forward and tapped his finger on the statement he’d made to that effect. “Every minute. If I do what you want, I’ll have to—” The thought made him swallow. Concussed, exhausted, having ridden an emotional rollercoaster for the last few hours, he felt dizzy and nauseated. “I can’t do it to them.”

Agent Luther sat back in his seat and scrubbed at his face with his hands. “What you’ve given us isn’t enough to stop it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It simply is not. It’s all guessing and hearsay. If we want to make a conviction stick against anyone other than your father, then you’re going to have to give us more. Solid, firm, unshakable proof.”

He’d given them all he had. Closing his eyes with a sigh, he struggled with the knowledge that what this man in his perfectly starched white shirt and pristine blue silk tie said was absolutely the truth. If he wanted to put a stop to it forever, he’d have to give them real evidence. “I’ll have to commit crimes in order to maintain a good cover. If I am in any way wishy-washy, Boris will shut me out, and you’ll get nothing.”

Luther reached his hand over his shoulder, and a junior officer put a file folder in it. “I have immunity for you right here. We’ll assign you a handler. Meet him weekly and give him physical evidence. Tell him everything you did, plan to do, and plan to order to have done. By the time your father’s trial comes along, hopefully, we can arrest the whole lot of them.”

He took the folder and opened it. In front of him lay a signed and sealed immunity deal. He could get into the organization. Boris would hand it over. He had no reason not to. He might bluster, but he would actually be relieved to not have to handle the details of the organization. Plus, he hadn’t been there tonight. He didn’t see how Antoly had spoken to him or what he’d said. Maybe he wouldn’t get a chance to find out any time soon.

Knowing with certainty that this was absolutely the right decision, he picked up the pen and signed his name. As he put the cap back on the pen, he asked, “What next?”