Page 26 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)

After what Roman just told me, I stand up from my desk, but I’m not sure if the best thing to do right now is to go home.

I want someone to tell me this is a fucking joke, that none of it’s real.

Amber didn’t just betray me—she could’ve gotten me killed.

“There aren’t any recent photos of Amber talking to them. It was just one occasion. You can tell by the clothes. It’s the same outfit in all of them.”

“There aren’t any recent photos for obvious reasons,” I say.

“Like what?”

“She’s with me all the time.”

“That wouldn’t stop her.”

“Roman, I am at my fucking limit, so stop talking in riddles.”

“She slipped away from the guards this afternoon. For a few hours.”

“What? Why the hell didn’t I know about this earlier?”

“Because it’s my job to deal with things like that.”

“The hell it is. Amber is my—” I stop mid-sentence.

My what?

Nothing. Just a traitor who plotted against me.

I look at him, and without saying a word, he seems to read my thoughts.

“Yes, I know what you’re thinking,” he says. “She could’ve gone to meet the Italians. But why wait months to do it? It doesn’t make sense, Beau.”

“Nothing about this shit makes sense, Roman. They’ve never used a woman before.”

“Element of surprise—like the Trojan Horse [6] . What are you going to do with her?”

My jaw clenches.

Pain and rage are tearing me apart.

Betrayal is the lowest a person can sink.

Before I can answer, Roman’s phone rings.

I’ve known him for years, and I’ve never seen him hesitate. But when he ends the call and looks at me, I know something’s happened.

“Talk.”

A thousand scenarios run through my mind, but when he finally tells me what happened, it’s like my worst nightmare come true.

“One of our men just called. Amber was hit by a car right in front of your house. Witnesses say she crossed without looking. She’s unconscious. They took her to the hospital.”

Hours later

I feel like a machine.

I haven’t gone in to see her yet because I’m torn in half. There’s a voice inside me screaming that she’s my Amber, the woman who’s spent the last few months in my arms, whom I’ve wanted more than anyone else, but I can’t ignore the truth: even lying in a hospital bed, Amber Martin is a traitor.

According to the doctors, she survived by some kind of miracle—only because the driver, an elderly woman, was going very slow. The lady went into shock and had to be treated too. She said Amber appeared out of nowhere and because it was already dark, she didn’t see her in time.

I stare out the hospital window at my security team in the parking lot.

Roman and half a dozen others are still in the hallway. No one knows what to do—because neither do I.

“Mr. LeBlanc, may I speak with you?”

I turn and see the doctor, who was introduced to me as the head of the team. As he approaches, my bodyguards shift closer, but I give them a nod to back off.

“I assume you’re responsible for Miss Martin.”

“Yes,” I answer automatically.

“If you could follow me to my office...”

Inside, he closes the door and offers me a seat.

“Is something wrong with her? They said you were running tests.”

“It wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. She has a contusion, but your girlfriend was lucky—like, escaped-by-the-skin-of-her-teeth lucky.”

I don’t correct him and wait for what he has to say.

“But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. It’s something I doubt either of you know, otherwise... well, she wouldn’t have tried to...”

“She didn’t try to kill herself,” I cut in, not sure why I’m even defending her.

What do I really know about her?

He doesn’t contradict me, but I can see doubt in his face. “It’s not my place to judge Miss Martin but to protect life. That’s why I asked to speak with you.”

“Just give it to me straight.” I’m not in the mood for bullshit today. My universe used to run in straight lines. Right now, I don’t even know which direction to turn.

“We had to run several tests on her, not just a skull X-ray. We drew blood as well. When the results came back, I was relieved I hadn’t ordered a CT scan or an MRI.”

“You know best, I’m sure,” I say, though I still have no idea where he’s going with this. “You said the tests didn’t show anything abnormal. Did she break anything?”

“No, nothing. Miss Amber isn’t sick, but you should know she’s carrying a life inside her. I assume you’re the father.”

“Can you repeat what you just said?” I know my voice comes out sharp, irritated, because I’m sure this idiot has made a mistake and I hate wasting my time.

“Your girlfriend is pregnant,” he says again, calm as if I’m too dense to grasp it. “Based on the pregnancy hormone levels in her bloodwork, I’d say she’s somewhere between nine and twelve weeks along. In a few months, the two of you will have a baby. Congratulations.”

“Amber is pregnant with my child?”

He looks at me silently, and I know what he’s thinking: only she and I can answer that.

“It’s mine,” I say out loud, with certainty. “She’s been with me the whole time these past months.”

“Then I suppose it’s good news.”

Now I’m the one who doesn’t respond, and he seems to sense something’s off.

“I don’t mean to pry into your private life, but I’d advise you not to start any serious arguments with her. Right now, Miss Martin needs peace if she’s going to deliver a healthy baby.”

My child.

In a few months, I’m going to be the father of a baby with the woman who’s been lying to me this entire time.

“Normally I wouldn’t even share news of the pregnancy,” the doctor continues, apparently unfazed by my silence, “but I was concerned the accident may not have been entirely accidental. I worry Miss Martin may be mentally unstable.”

There’s nothing I can say to that. I don’t really know Amber—not truly—but my gut tells me she wouldn’t take her own life.

“How long will she be sedated?”

“A few more hours at most. When she wakes up, she’ll be in some pain. Even without broken bones, the bruising to the head and body will hurt.”

“I want to see her.”