Page 28 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)

Despite everything, I hadn’t planned on leaving her side today. But I couldn’t turn down a meeting with the man who was my compass through most of my teenage years—and has been all of my adult life.

He rarely comes to the United States, and even when he does, we don’t always meet. We can’t draw attention to our connection.

When he reaches out to me, it’s because there’s something that must be said in person.

He called not long ago and said we needed to talk, so I left Roman and four other guards stationed outside Amber’s hospital room until I return.

Only because I want to keep her under surveillance until she wakes up, I tell myself.

There’s no other reason I’d want to stay close to her, except to protect the wellbeing of my child.

I spent several hours in shock after the doctor gave me the news. I have nothing against kids, but I never pictured myself as a father. Not even in the distant future.

From everything I’ve gathered about the accident, Amber really didn’t look before crossing the street.

What the hell was she thinking, doing something so reckless?

She could be dead right now.

The thought weighs on me like a ball and chain strapped to my gut.

When I stepped into her room and saw her, pale and so small in that big hospital bed, even after everything she’s done, I hated what I felt.

The problem with liars is that they’re usually people you keep close. People who matter.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it before, she has taken up a space in my life that no one else ever has.

When I looked at her earlier, lying in that bed, I didn’t see the traitor from the photos, conspiring with my enemies. I saw my girlfriend. My lover.

It’s hard to separate the two. Harder still to accept that the images are real, even though I know they are.

The car stops where he is waiting for me.

I run a hand through my hair, exhausted.

Right now, I have more questions than answers.

If she doesn’t already know she’s pregnant, I don’t even know whether she’ll want the baby.That’s okay. I want the child. Besides, I won’t let my son or daughter grow up like a nomad, like I did. A child needs roots.

Maybe we can come to an agreement. As much as it drives me insane to think of keeping her close after finding out she’s a liar, a child needs their mother. Maybe if I make her a generous offer, she’ll agree to raise the baby near me.

If not, I’ll file for custody. I’ve already contacted the law firm that handles my affairs—they’ll give me their opinion by tomorrow, though they’ve already warned me that during the pregnancy, I can’t legally force her to stay by my side.

I climb the steps to the house, for the first time without feeling any joy at seeing my mentor again.

The door opens before I reach the last step, and even with the darkness still clouding my heart, I smile.

“I’m glad to hear your girlfriend and your child are doing well.”

Even after a lifetime of knowing him, I’m still surprised at how he always seems to know everything.

“Yes, they are. How did you find out?” I ask, mostly out of habit.

“I’m like God, my son. Omniscient. Nothing happens in this world without my knowledge.”

I walk up to him and hug him. “Welcome back to America, Ruslan. I missed you.”

“Want a drink?” he asks, already knowing I’ll say no.

We’re seated in the library of his Boston home, which is massive, by the way.

“Not a good time to dull my senses. Besides, the sun’s barely up. Why the sudden visit?”

“Not so sudden. You know how I am. Always coming and going.”

“Like God. Omnipresent,” I joke, worn out.

“First of all, congratulations on the baby. Children are always a blessing.”

“I don’t know if every parent feels that way, but I really want this child.”

I know he understands. He’s had children across practically every continent, and as far as I know, he’s been a good father to them.

There might be others he doesn’t even know about.

I wouldn’t be surprised if new grandchildren kept popping up until the day he takes his final breath.

But even with all the women he’s been with, Ruslan is, above all else, a family man.

Our unlikely friendship started when I was just seventeen. Fresh out of high school, I had no plans. Even though I’d been offered a spot on a college football team, it wasn’t my passion.

Nothing excited me, really. And maybe, if fate hadn’t stepped in and made our paths cross, I’d already be dead by now.

But fate did intervene.

I was coming home from a party with some friends when I saw a man—older—walking out of a building. He had bodyguards with him, but maybe because it was late, they were distracted.

It all happened in a split second.

A parked car suddenly sped up toward him.

I saw the gun in the window and acted purely on instinct to protect an older man.

It was stupid to put myself in the line of fire, of course, but now I think it was already written somewhere that this was how it would go.

I got grazed on the shoulder because my unexpected move threw the shooter off.

The real target, Ruslan Vassiliev—who I later learned was the Pakhan [8] of the Russian mafia—escaped unharmed, and from that day on, he became my mentor.

He didn’t purge the darkness from me. He just redirected it—toward the right people.

I was informally adopted as one of his grandsons, with all the privileges and protection they get, though I’ve never really connected with his blood family.

Together, we formed a hidden force, bound by an unbreakable tie. It is only at his request that I haven’t yet completed my revenge against Angelo.

The Russian mafia and the Sicilian mafia—really, the Italian mafia as a whole, but especially the Sicilian branch—are old rivals. Ruslan has an interest in taking them down. If we coordinate our actions, we can strike together.

“I know what happened between her and the Italians,” he says, as if reading my thoughts.

That doesn’t surprise me. There’s no secret he doesn’t know.

“I only found out today. How long have you known?”

“Not long. What are you going to do about her?”

“I’m not sure yet. I need time to think. Now there’s the baby to consider.”

He gets up, walks to the desk, picks up an envelope, and hands it to me. “Maybe this will help you decide. Everything in life has two sides, Beau. Seeing only black and white, ignoring the shades in between, can lead us to make irreversible mistakes.”