Page 155 of The Wrong Brother

“You should be more careful, though,” he murmurs. His thumb strokes the back of my hand. “If you’re still pregnant…”

My throat feels tight. Has he spent the last days apart wondering if I’d go back to the clinic to end this before it ever began? After all, I didn’t give him a definitive answer about whether or not I wanted this child.

“I am.”

Rus’ grip tightens around me as he holds me somehow even closer, a slow shudder going through him.

“Good,” he says gruffly. “But no more fighting. I’m here now, and no one is going to hurt you.” My eyes close as I breathe him in, sudden exhaustion sweeping through my body. “I promise you,l’vyonak.”

Frank is the first to break the silence.

He knocks lightly on the doorframe, backlit by the lamps in the main space of the cabin.

“Not to break up this reunion, but it’s late, and there are only two beds here, Ruslan. What’s your plan?”

Movement behind his shoulder. There’s a woman behind him, a beat-up luggage bag beside her. There are hollows under her eyes and she looks haunted, gaunt almost. But also remarkably like Kate.

Shannon.

Rus squeezes my hand once before standing.

“There’s a bed-and-breakfast in West River.”

Frank raises an eyebrow. “I remember driving by it.”

“I’d like you to take Shannon there.” He reaches into his coat and removes a folded envelope, presumably filled with cash. “Get two rooms, but stay with her, please, if you can manage another few days. I’ll have men watching as well, of course.”

Frank looks between the two of us before reaching for the envelope. “Who knew I’d become a bodyguard in my old age,” he quips drily, but his expression has softened. “I do hope this charming establishment has standards.”

“It does.”

“Hot water?”

“Yes.”

“A decent mattress?”

“I believe so.”

Frank narrows his eyes suspiciously. “A bathtub?”

Rus hesitates just long enough to answer the question. “No.”

Frank throws both hands in the air. “Uncivilized.”

Despite everything weighing on the room, I laugh.

“It’s European style,” Rus says evenly, and from the way his shoulders settle, I can see the exhaustion in him as well. A quick glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand—it’s just past 3 a.m.

“Oh, well.” Frank straightens his pajama shirt. “Why didn’t you say so?” His expression immediately turns theatrical again. “I’ll still complain.”

“I expected nothing less.”

Frank smiles, then turns toward Shannon with surprising warmth. “Come along.”

She glances nervously at Rus.

“You’ll be all right,” he says quietly.