Ruth took the witness stand and stared at Antoly Kovalev. He sat at the table in the front of the courtroom next to two of his attorneys. Behind their table sat an entire team of lawyers and legal aids. While she stared at him, he raised his fingers and pantomimed shooting a gun at her. Her heart skipped a beat, but she refused to give him any reaction other than raising one eyebrow and looking back to the lawyer who currently cross-examined her.

“So, you’re saying, Miss Burnette—”

“Doctor,” Ruth corrected.

The man with the Ken-doll haircut and gleaming teeth paused. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m not a Miss. I’m a doctor. You can refer to me as Doctor Burnette, or you can find another lawyer to question me.”

A murmur ran through the courtroom. Ruth felt like she’d gained a tiny bit of the upper hand in this battle of wills she’d fought for the last twenty minutes with this attorney. The man turned to the judge. “Your Honor—”

He glared at the lawyer over his half-moon glasses. “Yes, Mr. Mitchell?”

“Can you please compel the witness?”

The unsympathetic judge smiled, and in a sugar sweet voice said, “What shall I compel her to do, Mr. Mitchell? Her request is simple and understandable. Please address her correctly or find someone on your vast legal team who knows how to pronounce the word ‘Doctor’.”

A bit of color flooded the top of his cheeks, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he turned back to Ruth. “So what you’re saying, Doctor Burnette, is that you didn’t actually see the defendant, Mr. Antoly Kovalev, here, with a gun in his hand?”

Images flashed in front of her eyes of Antoly Kovalev, smirking at the man on his knees, begging for his life. “I did not.”

“So, in fact, you didn’t witness him killing anyone?”

She almost visibly jumped when she re-heard the gunshot in her mind. “I did not.”

“Isn’t it true that Mr. Kovalev could have been there under duress as well?”

The prosecutor didn’t stand. He simply said, in an almost bored voice, “Objection. Calls for speculation.”

The judge answered, “Sustained. Mr. Mitchell, I’m getting tired of reminding you that you are not writing a fictional novel here. Quit setting up for your closing arguments and stick with just the facts.”

Ruth had already testified to hearing one of the men begging Antoly Kovalev for his life. At this point, the attorneys just tried to get the jury to forget her testimony by dragging the cross-examination out for long minutes and making her admit to what she did not see over and over again. She had prepared for this, and did not rise to any bait, nor did she get defensive. She knew that any kind of hesitation or defensive posturing would possibly make the jury doubt the testimony she’d already given. In a monotone, she simply answered every question with absolute honesty, correcting them every time they dropped the Doctor from her name.

“Let’s talk about your relationship with Victor Kovalev,” the attorney said, his back to her, his eyes searching the jury box.

As if on their own accord, Ruth’s eyes fell on Victor, who sat in the middle of the courtroom, watching her with a stoic expression. She missed him. No. That wasn’t exactly right. She missed the relationship she’d had with the man she’d thought he was. She did not miss the mafia boss’s son. She reminded herself that she also missed Esther.

Mr. Mitchell continued. “Isn’t it true that you and Victor Kovalev had a lover’s spat, and your testimony today is just your way of getting back at him?”

Curious where this man intended to take this, she simply said, “No.”

“No?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Shall I spell it?”

A murmured giggle spread through the courtroom. Mr. Mitchell continued. “But you haven’t been in contact with Victor since that night. Isn’t that true?”

“I’ve spoken to him twice since that night.”

He fumbled on his next words, then turned and looked at her with a confused look on his face. “Twice?”

“Yes.”

He clearly didn’t know that. It gave him pause. Recovering, he asked, “When did you speak with Victor Kovalev since that night?”

She knew the lawyer hadn’t intended to open the door for her to talk about her sister’s murder, but she thanked God for the opportunity anyway.

“Knowing the reputation of the Kovalev family and the danger my going to the police would place on my life, the Federal Marshals decided to put my sister into protective custody and in witness protection and me. When they went to my apartment to get my sister, they found her brutally murdered. Her tongue had been cut out of her mouth while she was still alive.” A few gasps echoed around the room. “I knew, as the police knew, that I’d received a warning from Antoly Kovalev. Talk, and the same thing would happen to me.”

“Objection!” one of the defense attorneys at the table interrupted.

Amused, the judge looked at Ruth. “You’re objecting to the answer to your own lead council’s question? Rather irregular, Ms. Bynes.”

“Your Honor, this is not relevant. Mr. Kovalev has never been charged with the murder of this woman’s sister. As far as I know, no one has been charged with that crime.”

The bored sounding prosecuting attorney didn’t even look up as he intoned, “Goes to state of mind.”

“I tend to agree with the prosecution,” the judge said. “The witness is answering your question. Perhaps you should have been more careful about what you asked her.” He looked at Ruth. “Please continue, Doctor Burnette.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, then looked at Mr. Mitchell again. “I spent the next six months in witness protection. Last week, Victor found me.”

“He found you?” Mr. Mitchell frowned, turning to look at Victor. He clearly didn’t know whether to continue with this line of questioning.

“Yes. I had saved a teenager’s life. He had been bitten twice by a very large rattlesnake. I’m afraid that pictures of my actions went viral on social media. The Marshals were on their way to relocate me when Victor showed up.”

“I see.” He opened his mouth, then shut it again and looked at Antoly Kovalev, who had turned in his seat to glare at his son. Finally, he looked at the judge. “Your Honor, may I have a few moments to confer with my client?”

The judge heaved an exaggerated sigh and looked at his watch. “If we must, let’s go ahead and break for lunch. We’ll reconvene at one o’clock.” He hit the gavel, and the bailiff had everyone rise while the judge exited the courtroom through the back door.

Ruth waited for the Marshals guarding her to escort her through a side door and into a protected room. Seconds later, Victor entered the room, too. Ruth stood quickly and backed against the wall. “Why are you in here?”

“Because until someone returns with food for us, they need us together. Manpower. There aren’t enough guards for us that they trust.”

That confused her. With a frown, she said, “I don’t understand, Victor. Why are you under protection, too?”

“I wasn’t going to be until after the trial. I’m sure right now my uncle is looking for me.” As if on cue, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and turned it off. “As far as my family knows, when they put me on the stand, I will lie through my teeth and talk about the wonderful charitable acts my father performs on a regular basis. Instead, the plan is to kind of throw a proverbial curveball and just unload what I know about that night and all of my father’s other illegal activities.”

The muscles in her neck that had tensed up when he came into the room gradually relaxed. After the way he’d helped her yesterday, and now sat in the room under Marshal protection with her, a tiny amount of trust for him started to bloom inside her. “Why?”

“Why am I testifying against my family?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring case, setting it on the table. Her heart twisted, reminding her of the depth of love she’d once had for this man, of the future she’d anticipated with all her soul.

“Because I love you, Ruth. Because the Holy Spirit is dwelling in me. My family, my father, and his kind, they’re evil. What they do is wrong. I have enough information to put most of my family members behind bars for a very long time. I have information that will save a lot of women from living horrifying lives. I have locations of drug storage and weapons caches, of housing for the girls, and I am gladly sharing it.” He looked at his watch. “I’m sure federal agents are raiding those places even now.”

All the feelings she’d had for him that she thought had died along with Esther, all of them suddenly flooded her heart. As she realized his situation, she felt a rush of panic. She moved forward and sat in the chair next to him. “Victor, I’m no one special. Me, they’re likely to forget. The threat against me will almost certainly dissolve when I walk out of this courtroom today or tomorrow. The damage will have been done, and they won’t waste resources looking for me and taking on WITSEC.”

Without thinking about it or talking herself out of it, she reached forward and took his hand. “But Victor, they won’t ever stop looking for you. Do you realize that? What I’ve learned of this culture for the last six months tells me that the moment you open your mouth, you will perform an unforgivable act, and they will look under every rock until they find you.”

He sandwiched her hands with his own. “My family have been criminals long before they ever came to America. I come from a long line of brutal killers and thieves—people who wear prison tattoos like badges of honor. If I can break the cycle, then I think that just might be worth my life.”

His brown eyes bore intently into hers. “I know I won’t ever be free again. That’s why when we walk out of here, I’ll go one way and you’ll go another. But I wanted you to know that you are the one that brought about this change; that because of you, this city will be a better place for so many people. This is what I wanted to tell you when I went to Florida to see you. You and your love for God and your love for me is what has made all the difference in the world for countless innocent people.”

He tapped the top of the ring box. “I’m thankful that we didn’t get married. I believe God was protecting you from me when you felt compelled to tell me ‘not now’.”

She opened her mouth to protest just as someone rapped on the door, making her jump. The Marshal at the door took the bags of sandwiches from the one carrying the food in, freeing the other’s hands to hand out the drinks. The moment she and Victor shared had passed. She circled back around the table and sat across from him.

After setting out the food, he reached across the table with his palm up. They’d held hands together and prayed over countless meals. The last piece of her hardened heart chipped away as she set her hand in his and closed her eyes. Familiarity washed over her as he prayed over their food. His hard, calloused hands felt so strong yet held her fingers so gently. His rich baritone voice washed over her as he quietly said a simple prayer of blessing.

As she bit into her turkey sandwich, she looked at him and worried about what he would need to do on the stand, and loved him more than she ever had before because of it. She quickly swallowed before she spoke.

“Tell me what happened? What went wrong that night?” She opened a bag of potato chips and sat quietly, waiting to hear his answer.

Victor picked up his cup and leaned back in his chair. He took a long pull of soda through his straw before speaking. “I’d worked out, sparred with someone in the ring for a bit. Even with the helmet on, he hit me hard enough to daze me. Joe didn’t like it. He didn’t want me working anymore that night. I had that big fight coming up on New Year’s Eve, and a padded hit nearly felled me. I went to Joe’s office to lie down, see if the dizziness would pass without medical intervention.”

The doctor in her raised an eyebrow. “Why not just go to the hospital?”

“Joe was worried a doctor would make me sit out the fight.”

She pursed her lips. “For good cause, Victor.”

He smiled despite their circumstances. “I won that fight. Did you know that?”

Biting her lip to keep from lecturing him, again, on the dangers of continued head trauma, she simply said, “I saw it in the paper.” Taking a deep breath, she quickly spewed out the words. “How could you fight after what happened? Esther, your father—”

“I was told in no uncertain terms that I had to finish my career on a high and fight that fight.” He picked up the paper cup and swirled the ice around in the remaining soda. “So, I fought. And I won.”

Slowly, she wiped her fingers on her napkin, trying to decide how to word what she felt. “I don’t understand how you lived with knowing who your father was,” she paused, “I mean, it’s not like you were twelve. You were thirty.” Even now, that’s what held her back from completely trusting him, and she knew it.

It took him several seconds to answer. For a while, he looked at his half-eaten sandwich, then shifted his eyes to look intently at her. “My mother.”

She immediately pictured the stunning woman who spoke very broken English. “Your mother?”

“My mother was taken from her home in Orenburg, Russia, when she was just fourteen years old. She’s never been back. No reason to. Her parents, my grandparents, they both died just a few days after she left.” A muscle ticked in Victor’s cheek as he clenched his jaw. “My father—” he hesitated, let out a shaky breath, and then said, “My father was a wealthy businessman who funded many Soviet politicians. He bought her right after her fifteenth birthday. She told me once that she could endure being his wife because it was better than the manor where she’d worked for the woman who eventually sold her.” He cleared his throat. “I was born in a mansion in Moscow just a few years before the collapse of the Soviet Union.”

He took a bite of sandwich and chewed silently for a few moments. Washing it down with a sip of soda, he added, “It was easy for my father to shift to what he does now. He had been hoarding gold and diamonds for years. His moral compass had never worked properly. The switch from loyalty to the Kremlin to running weapons was as simple as changing his socks.

“Boris had served as an officer in the military. His weapons contacts were what tipped the scale for the Kovalevs to really dominate.” As he sat back in his chair, he rubbed his knuckles, silently cluing her in to the fact that his hands ached. “And through all of it, he had this child bride he’d bought and stashed away, bringing her out when it suited him.” He cleared his throat. “After my first championship, I begged her to come away with me, but she didn’t want to leave him. Not for herself, but for fear that he would come after me.”

The glimmer of hate in his eyes made her throat go dry. “He is very possessive of his possessions. After a couple of decades, she was so conditioned that she could shop, go to her stylists, go to spas, and act like a free woman. But her drivers were always armed men whose jobs were to contain her as much as protect her.”

Six months ago, she wouldn’t, no, couldn’t have believed his story. A vague intellectual knowledge of such evil in the world never had penetrated her secure little bubble of Columbia University Medical School and the life around it. But in six months, she’d done a lot of research and knew that he spoke the absolute truth. “So, you stayed for her?”

Pushing away from the table, he surged to his feet and started pacing the confines of the little room. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Thinking back to the various times he’d complained about wearing a tie to dinner, or to a church function, warm memories flooded her mind. Despite the subject matter, a small smile formed on her lips.

“She somehow convinced my father that my boxing career was more important and that I needn’t concern myself with the family business until I retired. For whatever reason, he agreed. I think he took a lot of personal pride in my accomplishments. The only possible reason he’d do anything for her was for his own benefit. I’d always planned on taking her away when I retired, somewhere away from him and safe, but then I met you, and I didn’t know what to do, so I boxed for a few more years.” Victor came to her side of the table and pulled out the chair next to her. She turned to face him, and he surprised her by taking both her hands in his. “I thought you’d been killed.”

With wide eyes, she said, “Me?”

“I went to your apartment that night to warn you. The police were already there. I saw Esther—” Hot tears sprang to her eyes as a ravaged look of pain crossed over his face. “I thought it was you,” he said in a gruff voice. “I couldn’t bear it. I went to the FBI. When the guy on desk duty heard my name, I thought he was going to pass out.” He bowed his head, pressing her knuckles into his forehead. “I told them everything I knew, and they said it wasn’t enough. I had to go in, undercover, and learn more. Get solid evidence. For six months, I’ve done the one thing that my mother had prayed I wouldn’t do—I ran the Kovalev mob.”

Tears streaked down her face, and she leaned down, resting her cheek on top of his head, feeling the brush of his soft hair against her skin, inhaling the once familiar scent of his shampoo. What little she understood about the business, and how much she knew his heart, she couldn’t believe he’d done that. “I can’t imagine how hard that was.”

“I just counted down the days to the trial. At least I had an end in sight.” He straightened and peered into her eyes, their faces so close she could feel his breath against her cheek. “This morning, they put my mother in WITSEC. She would have gone sooner, but my mission was too important to risk discovery. For the first time in thirty-three years, she’s free.”

She put a shaking hand on his cheek. How hard would it have been for him to tell his mother goodbye? “And you?”

He closed his eyes with a sigh. “I will never be free.” When he opened his eyes, the passion and intensity reflecting back at her took her breath away. “But you and my mother will be free. And that is what matters. That is all that matters to me.”

Major kicked his legs and whimpered in his sleep. Reaching down, Ruth put her hand on his ribs, and he almost immediately settled down. She rested her head against the iron bars of the balcony and looked down at the quiet city street. At two in the morning, no one moved, and not even a car had rumbled down the street in twenty minutes. She tensed when she heard the glass door slide open, but when Major only opened one eye and lazily half-wagged his tail, she relaxed, knowing that Victor had come out on the patio with her.

She looked over at him and saw the guard on duty in the living room beyond the door.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, lowering himself down onto the concrete next to her.

“I have quite a bit on my mind,” she said, almost absently. She looked back down at the street. Potted geraniums stood on either side of the steps like sentries in front of the Italian restaurant across the street. The street light made the coral color look like a deep purple.

“Do you miss the city?”

I miss you, she thought to herself, but she didn’t say the words out loud. The things he’d told her in the courtroom just a few hours ago had changed so much of her perspective on things. The question that kept her awake right now was simply what she intended to do with that new perspective.

“I miss my life.” When sorrow flooded her chest and her throat burned with tears, she angrily put her hand to her chest. No breaking down now. She’d promised herself when she got to her new home, she would spend a week allowing herself the freedom of breaking down whenever she felt like it. Right now, she still had to maintain calm. “I miss school, the hospital… Esther.” Her sister’s name came out in a whisper a second before the first sob overwhelmed her.

His arms came around her as naturally as breathing, pulling her tightly to his chest. It felt so good to be held by him again. She had missed him. Terribly. Even when she tried to convince herself that what she’d missed was her idea of him, she had missed him. Now, she sobbed against his chest as thoughts of the last six months overwhelmed her. She felt so angry at his father and his family for the things they had done to her and her family, to him. What would happen now? What would life look like when this trial ended?

At some point, the wracking sobs subsided, and she realized he held her in his lap, her cheek on his shoulder, his hands rubbing her back, his fingers running through her hair. An exhausted wave washed over her, and she closed her eyes, inhaling his familiar scent. It would be easy to press her lips against his neck.

Heat flooded her face at the direction of her thoughts, and she pushed away. “I’m sorry,” she said, ducking her head. “I—”

Victor cupped her face with both his hands and raised her head, forcing her to look in his eyes. She could see the shine of unshed tears, the regret, and the emotions swirling in their coffee-colored depths. “Ruth,” he whispered, seconds before his lips met hers.

Without a second’s thought, she slipped her arms around his neck. As natural as breathing, she kissed him back, feeling her pulse hammer in her neck and her breath catch in the back of her throat. She tasted her own tears, felt his shuddering breath, inhaled the smell of him. Time faded away. Six months gone on a wisp of breeze, and she was back at the fast-food restaurant, kissing him goodbye for the last time.

Gradually, the kiss gentled until it was a mere brushing of lips and mingling of breath. Finally, she rested her cheek on his chest, keeping her arms around his neck. Twenty-four hours ago, she hoped she’d never see him again. Now, how would she ever tell him goodbye when this trial ended? For years, she planned on marrying him, building a life and a ministry with him. For months, she’d nursed a heart that had felt like someone had ripped it out of her chest. The emotional roller coaster threatened to overwhelm her, and she pushed away.

“We’d better get some sleep.” Her voice sounded hoarse and strained to her own ears. Standing, she clicked her tongue to wake Major. “I missed you,” she whispered.

He didn’t speak as she let herself back into the apartment and walked to her room.