Sands of Time by Susan May Warren

been in the city less than two weeks, and somehow Roman found her free moments and filled them with his smile, his magnetic charm. He took her to Red Square, explained the monuments of the Fearless Leaders. He translated for her as they toured the Museum of Military History. He bought her ice cream and flowers and made her feel…respected. Even special.
    She’d turned into a pile of besotted mush around him.
    At Gorky Park, she rode the Ferris wheel, gazing upon the Kremlin and the Volga River from her perch. A slight sweat lined her palms from the height and when Roman put his arm around her, she leaned into it. For safety.
    He felt so strong next to her. Like he’d never let anything happen to her.
    If only she’d seen through her romantic idealism to the truth—Roman might be charm and charisma, but he also embodied danger, recklessness and heartache.
    The more she let him into her heart, the more she knew she’d never be safe.
    Denial became her friend until the day of the coup. WhenRoman appeared, bloodied and angry, ready to fight for his country and freedom. She knew he’d never change his mind.
    He just wasn’t sold out for God like she’d hoped.
    At least that was what she told herself as she fled back to the States, to medical school and her goals.
    Lord, I don’t know what you’ve done in his life over the past decade. I mean, I know from David that Roman still seeks you. But, you brought him back here for a reason, and I pray you make that clear to me. Help me be a vessel for good and growth in his life. Even if he does drive me crazy.
    She wiped away a tear as she reached out and turned his picture down.
    In the family room, Roman lay on the sofa, his hair wet, watching the news. “I took the liberty of using your sink. Hope that was okay.”
    And he smelled good, too—a little bit of soap, a little leftover perspiration and way too much Eau de Roma. Drive her crazy was right.
    She sat on one of her straight chairs. “So?”
    “Evidently, Governor-elect Bednov has taken over in Governor Kazlov’s absence. They think he might have been kidnapped, but no one has made any demands.”
    Sarai shook her head. “I can’t believe it. I thought Russia was past all this.”
    Roman harrumphed. “Don’t believe everything you read in the news. Russia still has old Communists at the helm. And they’d like nothing more than a reversal to the old ways.”
    “Bednov’s a good man.”
    Roman gave her a look that made her feel like a kindergartener. “Hardly. He’s a Party man. I know. He was a friend of my father’s.”
    “Your father was in the Communist Party?”
    “Yes. Until he realized he’d been a fool. And then they took everything from him.” Roman tightened his jaw. “Just trust me. When Bednov says he’s going to do something. It gets done.”
    “But he campaigned for peace.”
    Roman tucked his arms behind his head. “He campaigned for a strong Russia. You need to learn to read between the lines.”
    The newscaster came on with an update of the violence in Irkutsk. Tanks patrolled the city and a building burned, black smoke darkening the morning sky. Sarai listened with bated breath at the casualty toll.
    “Seven dead, including one of Kazlov’s assistants.” She shook her head in disbelief. “That’s horrible, Roman, but I still don’t hear anything about your so-called foreigner evacuation. I know a plot by my brother when I see it.” The telephone rang.
    Roman sat up.
    Sarai reached for the receiver. “It’s my phone. I’ll get it.”
    He pursed his lips and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees.
    “Sarai, it’s Anya.” The sound of Anya’s voice, so in control, yet so concerned radiated through Sarai. “We just got a call from Khanda. There’s a boy there showing the same symptoms as Sasha. They need you.”
    Sarai nodded, glanced at Roman. “Okay. Can you and Genye pick me up? I’ll be downstairs waiting.”
    “No.” Roman pounced to his feet and,