Page 95 of Protected By the Sinner
Instead of answering, he asks another question. “You remembered everything?”
“No, just that the Italians from the bar where she worked took her. They let me speak to her, and Elodie was terrified.” I take shallow breaths and feel dizzy. “I’m nauseous.”
He carries me to the bathroom, and I’m mortified—but I can’t stop myself from getting sick.
After helping me clean up and bringing me back to bed, he grabs his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling a doctor. It’s past time we had an OB-GYN here, but for now a general practitioner will have to do—he’s the only one I trust completely. I won’t let anyone touch you without being fully vetted first.”
I hear him give orders to Roman, then he sits beside me again. “Do you want to talk about the nightmare?”
I nod.
“Hold on.” He fills a glass of water and hands it to me. After a sip, I feel a bit better.
“My sister and I lived quiet lives. We worked, never stayed in one city too long. Everything I’ve already told you. We always avoided risky jobs—especially bars, because . . .”
“What, Amber?”
“I think deep down, we still feared the bad men.”
“Go on.”
“These memories are coming back, one after the other. I’m hoping they’ll eventually form a whole.”
He watches me, looking tense, but maybe that’s just my imagination.
“Even though I can’t remember Elodie’s exact plan to expose the elders, I know she wanted to leave the country.”
“Yes, that was her plan. There’s nothing wrong with me telling you this. It won’t interfere with your memory returning, because it’s not from the time we met. I spoke with Elodie, and she said the idea was to make a video on an app, wearing masks, and reveal everything that happened in the cult. But you’d have to leave the country right after, just in case someone found out who you two were and where you were hiding.”
“Yes, I remember we were working two jobs to save money. We were going to try to get fake passports, and that’s the only reason she agreed to take the hostess job at the bar. Neither of us had the slightest idea it was a Sicilian-mafia-owned place.”
“You’re remembering everything.”
“What?”
“A minute ago, you said some Italians took her. Now you said they were with the Sicilian mafia.”
“I didn’t even notice.”
“How did you know it was the mafia?”
“The first time one of them spoke to me on the phone—I think it was the boss—he bragged about it. He said he’d sell my sister to . . .” I can’t finish. “He said I had to do something or I’d never see her again, but I don’t remember what it was.”
I know him well enough by now to notice how tense he is, but just as I’m about to ask why, Roman knocks on the door, announcing the doctor will be here in five minutes.
Beau gets up to talk to him, and I can see how awkward the bodyguard looks. My boyfriend once told me we didn’t get along before, and I don’t understand why. Since the accident, we’ve barely exchanged a handful of words.
“Does she need anything?” Roman asks.
“No, everything’s fine. When the doctor gets here, search him as usual before letting him up.”
“I’d never let anyone near you two without checking them first.” Roman sounds almost offended, and despite everything, I want to laugh.
Beau shuts the door again.
