Page 36 of Protected by the Sinner (The Sinner’s Touch #2)

“I love you, Beau,” she repeats while riding me, owning me, lost in her own pleasure.

With her beautiful eyes closed, Amber is completely absorbed in us, repeating those words like a mantra, teaching me something that instantly becomes my favorite song.

I slide one hand down her belly, caressing the small swell where our child is growing.

She opens her eyes and laces our fingers together.

We’ve had sex plenty of times before, but I don’t think we’ve ever made love. The explosive chemistry between us was always ruled by urgency—but tonight, I need to feel her.

I grab her shoulders and pull her close, giving and receiving, sinking into her soft warmth, my version of heaven on earth.

There’s no rush in the way we move, no rush in the moans we share, and yet there’s still the wild urgency only she can stir in me.

“You’re mine,” I say, my mouth refusing to obey the rational thoughts trying to interfere with this surrender.

“Yes, I am, because I love you, Beau. Only you. I might never remember anything else, but I know I love you.”

“I’m crazy about you, Amber.”

I thrust into her, diving not just into her body but into us, letting go of pride, silently swearing that I forgive her. And finally, I admit that I don’t want to keep her just because she’s carrying my child.

I don’t want to live without her.

After the third time we make love, Amber passes out cold.

I turn on the light and watch her sleep for over an hour.

Then I go downstairs to the library to think.

There’s no way I can get anything done with her naked body beside me, that long hair spilling over our pillows, those perfect lips parted slightly.

It’s late, and I know I won’t be sleeping anytime soon, so I decide to check out the envelope Roman left for me. He said it had something to do with Elodie.

Inside, there’s only a small, simple phone and a note:

This isn’t the phone you told me to get her. I managed to access the accounts and found several messages to a number in Italy. I placed a call to confirm—some woman picked up. I believe it’s Miss Martin’s sister.

I press the button and turn on the phone, trying to figure out this new piece of the puzzle.

There’s only one way to find out.

I dial the only number saved in the contacts. If Roman was right and Elodie is in Italy, it’s already pretty late over there.

Even so, the phone rings only twice before a woman’s voice answers, filled with anticipation. “Amber?”

“Beau LeBlanc.”

“Why do you have my sister’s phone?”

I decide to get straight to the point. “Amber was in an accident.”

“What? Is she okay? Please, tell me what happened.”

“She was hit by a car, but she’s recovering. I tried reaching out earlier, but it seems you two are pretty skilled at staying off the grid.”

“Not that skilled, or you wouldn’t be talking to me right now.”

“My head of security found this phone on the street. She probably dropped it.”

“Give me your word that my sister’s okay.”

“She is. But there’s a complication. She has temporary amnesia.”

“Oh my God.”

“She remembers you—and your past together. She knows she has a sister and everything else you . . . went through while under the cult’s control. But nothing from last week.”

“She remembers the cult we were raised in?”

“Yes. I know everything now.”

She doesn’t ask how I found out. “I need to speak to her.”

“Amber’s asleep. There’s something else you need to know . . . She’s pregnant. With my child.”

To my surprise, she starts crying.

“Elodie, what’s going on?”

“Do you know why she went to meet you at the club?”

My jaw tightens so hard it hurts.

Forgiving Amber is one thing. Listening to her sister—a stranger—rub it in is another.

“Please don’t hurt her. Think about your baby. My sister wasn’t at fault.”

My first instinct is to say I won’t hurt her, but my gut tells me to stay quiet.

“Cara [10] , what’s going on?” I hear a man’s voice ask.

“Please, Mr. LeBlanc, I’m begging you—don’t hurt my sister.”

The guy sounds pissed that she’s crying, but Elodie won’t stop talking to me.

“Then tell me why I should forgive her,” I say. “I still don’t know the whole story.”

“I was working at a bar owned by the Sicilian mafia.”

“Elodie!” the man yells.

“Let me speak. My sister’s life is on the line.” She sniffles. “Mr. LeBlanc, are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“One of the bartenders befriended me. We’d only been living in Dallas for a month or two. I realized too late it was a setup. They kidnapped me and threatened Amber—they told her if she didn’t go meet you that day, they’d hurt me. If the roles were reversed, I would’ve done the same.”

“What was their goal? Why did they want her to come to me?”

“We don’t know. At first, her only task was to get into the club and get close to you.”

“No kind of ambush?”

“What? No! You’ve seen my sister. She’s a terrible liar. Desperation was the only thing that gave her the guts to go through with it.”

“How did you escape?”

“That I can’t tell you. It has nothing to do with your situation with my sister.”

Someone helped her—obviously. Probably the same guy who tried to cut off the call.

“You said Amber remembers me. When can she talk to me?”

“The doctor advised against forcing her memories. So if I do allow it—”

“I don’t need your permission to talk to my own sister.”

“Well, I disagree. As I was saying, if I let you two talk, you can’t bring up any of this. No mafia, no recent drama.”

“You’d never hurt her.”

“No.”

“And yet you made me believe you would.”

“Would you have told me the truth if you didn’t think she was in danger?”

“Probably not.”

“What are you doing in Italy?”

“The Sicilians are after us. More after me, really. When you found her at that motel in Richardson, they already knew you were coming for her and told her to stick to the original plan—stay close to you. But I ran, and since then, she’s only had to worry about herself.”

It doesn’t take me long to connect the dots. “She stayed with me because she knew she’d be safe.”

“If you really believe that, Mr. LeBlanc, then you don’t know my sister at all. I told her to stay with you, said she’d be protected—but I could’ve taken her with me if I thought she was in danger.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I know my sister better than I know myself. I saw it right away—she fell for you, almost instantly. We both have Romani souls. We could be happy anywhere. But Amber wanted to stay with you.”

“If you think that, then maybe you don’t know her as well as you think. She doesn’t want to be a Romani. She wants to be a daisy.”

I hang up the phone, my decision already made.

The truth is, I knew which path I’d take long before Elodie filled in the blanks.

If what I need to do to keep Amber by my side is give her the chance to bloom like a daisy, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.