Page 25 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)

Boston

Earlier that day

I feel ridiculous in these clothes, but I couldn’t come up with a better plan.

To get away from Beau’s men—my assigned bodyguards—and finally do what Elodie asked me to do, which was spy from a distance on the man she believes is our brother, I had to go undercover as a nerd.

It’s not the first time I’ve played a character. In the early years of running from the monsters who raised us, we dressed as boys—and once I even disguised myself as an old lady to escape Houston.

But now, carrying these heavy books in my arms, I wonder if I overdid it. And I still have the bag with my real clothes slung over my shoulder.

Forensic Medicine? Why couldn’t I just buy a paperback?

I shake my head and wonder if I’m starting to lose it after telling so many lies for so long.

I glance over my shoulder, checking if I’m being followed. My paranoia is fully activated. It’s hard to shake the fear—it’s practically coded into my DNA by now.

I told Beau’s men I wanted to go to the mall, and somewhere between the stores, I ditched them—which, for me, is the easiest thing in the world. Pure muscle memory.

Then I changed clothes. I bought jeans and an oversized sweatshirt—way too big but perfect for hiding my curves from any casual observer. I tied up my hair in a way that makes it look much shorter than it actually is.

I could’ve stopped there, right? But no. I had to go one step further and walk into a bookstore to buy these damn books.

With Phase A of my plan complete, I turned off both of my phones—the one I use to talk to Elodie and the one Beau gave me—just in case someone tried to track me. Then I moved on to Phase B: camping out in front of the house—well, mansion—where Amos lives, and waiting.

Except, after an hour of waiting, the one who came out wasn’t him. It was a blonde woman with almost white hair, who I figured must be his wife.

Call me a coward, but I went for the easier—probably dumber—option and decided to follow the wife instead of waiting to talk to my supposed brother.

Not that I’d have the guts to talk to him anyway. I saw a photo—he looks pretty damn intimidating.

The woman I assume is my sister-in-law heads to an outdoor shopping center, and I follow from a distance, convinced I’m going unnoticed.

But little by little, I start to feel like a kid staring into a candy store. While trailing Lilly, I think about what Elodie said: Amos has kids.

So if he really is our brother—and judging by the photo she sent, the resemblance is there—then Elodie and I are no longer alone in the world. We have a family.

The idea hits me harder than I expected. I get emotional, and that distraction makes me slip up.

Instead of staying hidden, I stop in front of the lingerie store Lilly went into, and while I’m standing there like an idiot, I don’t notice she’s coming right toward me.

In an instant, my books and all her shopping bags scatter across the floor in front of the store.

I drop to my knees to grab my stuff without making eye contact.

Damn it, I should’ve been more careful.

I can feel her eyes on me, and I wonder if she’d think I was insane if I just ran.

Calm down, Amber, I scream at myself silently.

I don’t lift my head—I’m too mortified. If this woman really is my sister-in-law and there’s even the slightest chance we’ll be formally introduced one day, she’s going to remember this moment and put two and two together. She doesn’t need to be a genius to figure out I was following her.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, and it’s the last thing I wanted—to be spoken to—because it makes everything feel way too real.

Still, I can’t help but notice how sweet her voice is.

“It’s nothing,” I reply, avoiding eye contact. “I’m just really clumsy.”

And stupid, I add silently.

Way to go, Amber. Real secret agent material.

“Tell me about it. I know all about being a girl with slippery hands,” she continues, clearly not ready to let me off the hook.

Sighing, I finally look up.

Wow. She’s stunning. For a second, I’m completely caught up in her beauty. Lilly looks like a painting.

But then I realize she’s giving me a weird look, and after confirming that she’s got all her bags, I get to my feet.

“Lillyana Ross,” she says, extending her hand before I can bolt.

I hesitate, but thinking about the future, I see no way around it. “Amber Martin.” I could’ve made up any name, but somehow, I felt the need to leave at least one piece of truth with her from this encounter.

“Amber? That’s a beautiful name.”

“I think they gave it to me because of my eyes.”

Shit!

That’s what happens when you let your guard down. I said too much.

Nervous as hell, I turn and walk away without saying goodbye or looking back. This trip to Boston won’t be the one where I uncover the truth about Amos.

I duck into one of the mall restrooms and change back into my regular clothes. I don’t turn my phone back on yet. It’s already nighttime, and there are probably a bunch of messages from Beau.

This morning, I told him I wanted to do something different—movies and popcorn, an activity I’ve only ever shared with my sister before. But after ditching the bodyguards, there’s a good chance we’ll be spending the evening arguing.

I have no illusions—he’ll definitely grill me when I get home. If I even make it back before him. And as much as I feel worse every day about all the lies, if I tell him about Amos, I’ll have to tell him everything—about Elodie, and by extension, the Italians.

I’ve thought about coming clean, but I’m terrified of his reaction.

So instead, I keep pushing the truth further and further into a future that never seems to come.

I’m almost home now, exhausted from the tension of the encounter with Lilly, from the fact that my entire life is a lie, and from constantly lying to Beau.

I’m not usually emotional, but I feel out of control—eyes full of tears—and I never cry.

I turn Beau’s phone back on, and it immediately starts ringing. I wait a few seconds to answer, bracing for a fight, but instead, there’s only silence on the other end. Then I hear the thud of what sounds like the phone hitting a hard surface.

It seems like two people are talking, and I start to get nervous. I can’t make out what they’re saying.

Why isn’t he saying anything to me?

Then, after a moment, I hear my boyfriend’s voice asking, “What’s this?”

“You should see for yourself,” another man replies, but I don’t recognize the voice.

“I don’t like riddles.”

“It’s not a riddle. But if I tell you what’s in there, I might not live long enough to prove I’m telling the truth.”

“Just tell me what’s inside.”

“Photographs.”

I feel the blood drain from my body. A sick feeling tells me my world just came crashing down.

“She’s meeting with the Sicilians? When was this taken?” Beau asks.

“A week before she showed up at the Hazard opening in Dallas.”

He knows everything.

I hang up in horror, and pure survival instinct kicks in—I start running in the dark.

I see the lights of his house in the distance and go the opposite direction, crossing the street without looking.

Only when it’s too late do I notice the headlights coming straight at me.

I shut my eyes, and the last thing I think is that I’m going to die knowing he hates me.

And it’s in that moment that I finally admit it:

I’m completely in love with the man I betrayed.