Page 99 of Protected By the Sinner

I’m pretty sure Beau must think I’m a little crazy, but here’s the thing—I know my sister better than anyone. If he’d waited too long now that she’s remembered everything, Amber would have shut down.

She’s the most honest person I’ve ever known, and she had to go against everything she believed in to follow the orders of the Italian mafia and help save me, so I know she’s probably feeling awful and full of guilt right now.

I pace back and forth, nervous and hoping everything works out between them.

At first, I asked her to stay with Beau because I had no doubt the man must be dangerous too. But my sister, like me, is a good judge of character, and if she said he was treating herwell, that was enough for me to feel safe letting her stay with him.

Every time we spoke on the phone, I made a point of analyzing him. He’s definitely not one of the good guys, but I’ve seen the real scum of humanity. The Italian who kidnapped me was one of them, just like the elders.

My phone buzzes with a message, and I’m surprised to see who it’s from.

Amos Cooper. My brother.

I nearly jumped out of my skin the first time he called me. I thought I’d been so discreet investigating him, but apparently, he found out. I’m good at covering my tracks, but I guess he’s even better at following them.

Honestly, it was probably for the best that he made the first move. I had no idea how I was going to approach him.

“Hi, how are you? I swear I’m not crazy, but I think you’re my long-lost twin.”

Either way, I’m happy he has a good life—unlike ours.

Stability. A family. Everything Amber and I always dreamed of.

I look down at the screen.

Amos:You left Boston without saying a word.

Yeah, he’s got every right to sound pissed. We were supposed to be talking right now.

Me:Can you talk now?

Seconds later, my phone rings.

“Did something happen?” he barks.

Jesus, not even a good morning!

This is only the third time we’ve spoken on the phone—and none of the previous calls touched on why I’d sought him out. Though I suspect he already knows.

“I’m in Louisiana.”

“What?”

“You know why I had you investigated?” I ask, tired of dancing around it.

“I have a pretty good idea,” he says cautiously.

“Well, if it’s true we’re siblings, then maybe it’s time you knew. We have a younger sister.”

“Amber Martin.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“She wasn’t exactly subtle following my wife around the mall.”

“I was in Italy and asked her to find you. My sister’s a bit clumsy when she plans things alone.”

“What are you doing in Louisiana? I know you were in Boston.”