Page 15 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)

I’ve gotten used to being alone. Watching my own back.

There’s only one person I’d die for: the man who’s like a father to me, even if we keep that connection a secret from most people.

But when I was in the car heading here and got Roman’s call about the men who came after Amber, I realized maybe this situation is starting to spiral.

It was supposed to be about sex. I want to fuck her like I need my next breath, but there’s no way I’ll let myself feel protective over this woman.

She’s not mine.

So why the hell couldn’t I breathe until I got into the apartment and saw her sitting on the bed?

Her bed?

No. My bed. My house.

She’s a guest I need to keep a close eye on, who just so happens to be the woman I want more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.

Other than that, there’s no connection between us.

I repeated that to myself the entire drive.

She’s not trustworthy.

There’s something shady behind her sudden appearance in my life.

She’s lying about everything—or at least about a lot.

I worked that mantra through my head, and yet, now that I’m looking at her pretending not to be terrified, something inside me snaps.

I don’t want her to feel afraid. Amber is under my protection. She should be untouchable.

I had men watching over her, of course—I never leave anything to chance, and I figured she might try to disappear again. But it never crossed my mind that someone might try to take her. Because that’s exactly what would’ve happened if my men hadn’t stepped in.

They couldn’t identify her pursuers, because Roman’s security protocol is always defense before offense.

“Who were they?” My voice comes out hard, and I see her flinch, but I’m done playing games. Why don’t I just throw her out?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Amber—”

“You know what? We don’t have to do this. I don’t have to stay in your fancy apartment, Mr. LeBlanc. I just want—” She stops, like she’s only just realized she snapped and threw her whole ice-queen act out the window.

“Just want what?”

She turns her back to me and walks to the window. “This was a mistake. I don’t trust you, and you don’t trust me. What are we even doing here? Go find another woman for sex.”

She grabs one of the suitcases and locks it with a small green padlock. The other one’s already packed, probably because she was waiting for me to fetch her.

Somehow, seeing how easily she’s ready to walk away bothers me, because I know it’s not the first time she’s done this.

“It’s nothing personal. I don’t trust anyone,” I say.

“Me neither. And I’m not asking you to trust me. You said we’d spend some time together. I agreed. We don’t even have to be friends for that. A few normal days would be enough for me.”

Does she even realize what she just said?

“What would normal days look like in your world, Amber?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about me anymore.”

“Who were those men?”

“I don’t know.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Look, I liked what we had going, but I really can’t stay. I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and we’re already arguing. This is ridiculous.”

“We’re not having a lovers’ quarrel, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Exactly, because we’re not a couple,” she adds.

“Quiet. Don’t interrupt me. This wasn’t a damn relationship fight; it’s because you could be dead right now. Do you realize that?”

She flinches again but still won’t back down. “I get it. But I know how to take care of myself. I just wanted to ask if you could drive me back to Richardson or any small nearby town.”

“No. Once you leave, you’re on your own.”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Fine.” She heads toward the suitcases.

“You know there’s a good chance the same men who were chasing you might catch up to you again?”

“I know. But if I stay, you’ll try to make me talk about my past. I’d rather leave than lie.”

“You’d lie?”

“Yes. About everything.”

“I can find out on my own.”

“Go ahead and try ,” she challenges.

“Why don’t you want to talk about your past?”

“Mainly because it’s irrelevant. But mostly because I’ve known you for all of two minutes and just like you don’t trust me, I don’t trust you, Beau LeBlanc.”

Jesus Christ. If a man said something like that to me, he’d be dead by now.

“I don’t forgive betrayal, Amber.”

She tries to stay strong, but I notice a slight tremble in her lips. “I’m not a traitor.” She looks me in the eye, and I stare back. On that point, she might be telling the truth—but it doesn’t make me trust her.

Betrayal is a broad concept. To betray someone, you first need to owe them your loyalty. When she came to me, Amber didn’t know me. She owed me nothing.

Besides, she never said she didn’t lie, which I know she did. Even if I haven’t pieced the whole puzzle together yet, the more I get to know her, the clearer it becomes: Amber didn’t go to Hazard just to have fun.

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. A headache is starting to build.

There’s a voice screaming in my head to send her away, that I don’t need this kind of risk, but I ignore it and finally make my decision.

“Leave the suitcases. Just take the essentials. You won’t need those clothes.”

I can see the barely concealed relief on her face when she realizes I’m letting her stay.

She may think she’s good at playing the game, but Amber’s the worst liar I’ve ever met. She wouldn’t survive a single round of poker. Now I see it clearly: what made me buy her act at the club was pure lust.

Not that she isn’t naturally sexy and hot as hell. A born seductress.

But a femme fatale? An experienced one? I’d bet everything I own that I was her first real target.

“Why not?” she asks, and it takes me a second to catch up with the practical side of things.

“I’ve already got a stylist waiting for you in California. We’re going to an event in L.A. tomorrow night.”