The Sometime Sister by Katherine Nichols (e novels for free .TXT) 📗

Something Ben had said once about his interrogation skills in the courtroom came to mind. How he enjoyed intimidating opponents until he could smell their fear.

“What the hell are you talking about? Whatever it is, I’m sick of sitting here watching you puff up like an overweight walrus in heat. Get to the point or take me home.” I took a sip of the vodka for real this time and waited for the explosion.

I had underestimated my ex-fiancé, though. Instead of blowing up, he downed the rest of his drink and rambled over to the bar to make another one.

“Okay, Pumpkin.” I hated when he called me that. He returned to his place on the sofa. “What did you hear after you left my house?”

“Ben,” I began, wondering if the man had lost his mind. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I carefully enunciated each syllable.

“This is what I’m talking about, you bitch!” he shouted, then reached into his pants pocket. He stood and shoved his fist in front of my face, opening his palm to reveal a small, round disk. It was the mic I dropped while running out of Ben’s house.

“You can’t deny you bugged my place. Now tell me or I swear to God…”

He waved his fist at me, and I cringed into the chair as far as possible. Then I recalled the rush he got from bullying a witness and how weakness in an opponent excited him. I sat straight and laughed at him.

“That mic died as soon as I dropped it. The last thing Harry and Justin picked up was the sound of you screaming like a little baby. They were on their way in when I ran to the car.”

His face darkened to a shade of rotten plum. “You’re lying.” He leaned in close, eyes bulging. “Now tell me what you heard, or I’ll get Javi to help you remember.”

“Seriously, Ben. I only wore the mic in case you flipped out. Once I was out of your reach, there was no need for us to keep listening.” I was frightened but also curious. What was he so afraid we picked up? It had to be pretty damning for him to be so worried.

“I want to believe you, Grace. I really do, but you have to admit you haven’t given me much reason to trust you.” He licked his lips. “Maybe if you were a little nicer to me, I might accept what you’re saying as the truth.”

Like one of the lightning bolts Stella and I hated, it hit me: Ben’s Achilles’ heel. Achilles’s penis was more accurate. The thing you could always count on was that the man was in a constant state of dormant arousal, awakened at the slightest provocation. Although allowing him to touch me was nauseating beyond belief, my survival instinct was stronger than disgust.

His breathing quickened. “Why don’t you come a little closer?” He patted the space beside him.

I glanced around the room, searching for something to use as a weapon. My best option was a heavy square-shaped bottle of tequila on the counter.

I got up but kept my distance. If I gave in too quickly, Ben would suspect my sincerity, but if I played it too cool, he might lose patience. I wasn’t sure what that might mean, but he was capable of anything.

“I can’t do anything until I use the little girls’ room.” I shifted from foot to foot and gave him a desperate look.

“It’s down the hall on the left. Don’t take too long.”

I brought my face close to his, trying to ignore the stiff black hairs sticking out of his pores. He parted his lips, but instead of kissing him, I squeezed his upper thigh. He moaned and reached for me, but I danced away.

“I mean it, Grace,” Ben growled. “No stalling.”

Still holding on to my purse, I hurried to the bathroom, then shut and locked the door. I searched my bag, frantic for something to defend myself with. My hairbrush was too flimsy. I might do some damage with the hotel pen, but it would most likely only further enrage my captor. That’s when I noticed the pillbox where I’d stored the Xanax from the lady on the plane along with Mom’s Ambien. If I could get them in Ben’s drink, I should be able to, at the very least, disable him. There was a possibility the drugs and alcohol would kill him, but that was a chance I was willing to take. Before I had time to proceed with my plan, heavy footsteps pounded above me, followed by shouting and the crash of broken glass.

I crouched beside the toilet and waited for the noise to die down. Then I peeked out of the bathroom before walking toward the den. The room was empty. I hurried to the sliding doors and found they were bolted shut. I could try to make it to the garage, but that could be another dead end, and I had no idea where Javi or he might be.

From overhead, I heard footsteps and surveyed the room for a place to hide. I noticed a handle on one of the panels beneath the stairway, opened it, and discovered a small storage area. The steps grew louder. I squeezed myself inside and shut the door behind me. Blinking in the thick darkness until my eyes adjusted, I identified a rolled-up throw rug, a painting, and a tennis racket.

My heart pounded so loudly I was certain the person above had to hear it. A series of harsh, popping sounds ended the silence. Someone shrieked, and I realized it was me. I moved deeper into the storage closet but stopped when something poked me in the back. After feeling around, I discovered the sharp object was a broken pool cue.

The footsteps resumed, much closer now. I held my breath, but the walls closed in, and I gasped. Sweat trickled between my boobs as I fought the