Page 133 of The Wrong Brother

“I’ve watched Andrei become more frightened every week. He keeps pretending he’s in control, but he isn’t.” She swallows. “Whatever Ruslan is planning... how bad is what Andrei has done?”

The question hangs in the air, out of place in the cozy cabin. I look at Frank, unsure how to answer—he might not be a member of the Bratva, but he knows Ruslan and his business enough that I’m comfortable deferring to him.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reaches for his tea and takes a thoughtful sip. Then he sets the mug down.

“I have an idea.”

Both Victoria and I turn toward him.

“If you truly want to help,” he says, “don’t accuse Andrei of anything.”

Victoria frowns. “What do I do instead?”

Frank folds his hands together, legs crossed. “Leak one name.” For one brief moment he glances my way, and then he says, “Shannon Sheffield.”

The air disappears from my lungs. This isn’t what I expected. I thought he’d tell her to dig, to ask certain questions, but this…

All I can think about is how reluctant Rus was to bring Kate and her past into this.

“Are you sure?” I hurry to ask, leaning forward, tea forgotten. “Frank, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I do.” His certainty catches me off guard.

“What if it hurts her?” I don’t say Kate’s name, not sure how much Victoria knows about me, about Ruslan, about the niece he’s created a safe home for back in Santa Barbara.

Frank’s expression softens. “It won’t.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because Ruslan won’t let it.” The confidence in his voice is so solid it almost breaks my heart. “He’ll find another way before he lets that little girl become collateral damage.”

“You really believe that.”

“I know him.”

Victoria is watching us closely; the curiosity raw on her drawn face. The fire spits, crackles, and it’s obviously dying down despite the heat radiating from the cast iron.

Finally, she nods.

“I can do that. Just the name?”

Frank hums, taking a sip of his tea. “Nothing more; it’s all you’ll need.”

Victoria surprises me by smiling. A real smile this time, despite the fact that she had just escaped the city in the middle of the night to come find me. To ask how she can help take her husband down.

It’s a tired smile, but hopeful. She leans forward, puts a hand on my knees, and says, “I’m glad.”

I frown, not understanding but not hating the camaraderie.

“About what?”

“You.”

Confusion must show on my face because she laughs softly.

“I spent weeks wondering why Andrei hated his brother so much.” She shakes her head. “Now I know.”

“What do you mean?”