The Sometime Sister by Katherine Nichols (ebook reader for comics .txt) 📕

Tears were streaming down my face. My laughter had turned to chest-rattling sobs.

He stopped on the side of the road and leaned over the gear shift to pull me close.

“It’s okay.”

Only it wasn’t. Yes, I enjoyed seeing Ben rolling on the floor in agony. But I had blown any chance of sweet-talking information out of him and hadn’t even remembered to ask him about the stolen letters. Worse still, now he would be very unlikely to release Stella’s ashes, especially not to the woman who had not only caused him physical pain but had also humiliated him. I buried my head deeper into Justin’s chest.

He kept his arms around me. “Don’t beat yourself up. I’ve known lots of guys like Ben, self-satisfied pricks who aren’t happy unless they’re in charge. No way would he ever do something that might make him lose the upper hand.” He lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. “But we’ll get him. I promise.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this close to a man. Casual sex had never been easy for me. I’m not good at casual anything. Lesroy says it’s because I think too much. Whatever it was, after Ben left, I gave up on relationships.

Looking into Justin’s dark blue eyes, then down to his lips, I stopped thinking about the past. I wanted to get even closer. I traced his jawline with my fingertip.

His breathing quickened and his eyelids fluttered, then opened wide; he moaned.

“This is not a good idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea,” I whispered into his ear. “Really, really terrible.” I touched the tip of my tongue to the hollow spot at the base of his throat before bringing my mouth to his lips.

If not for the vibration in Justin’s pocket, I don’t know how long we might have stayed locked together. It was Harry. I could tell from the one-sided conversation he got worried when we weren’t behind him anymore. Justin told him we stopped because I felt queasy but was okay now. I surmised he would wait at the bar for another strategy meeting. Then he began giving abbreviated responses, and I gave up trying to follow.

My lips were swollen, and my mouth and chin sported the beginnings of a rash from Justin’s beard. I finger-combed my disheveled hair into a semblance of order and dragged out lipstick and powder.

He delivered one last, “Right. Sounds good.” Then ended the call.

“What’s going on?”

He explained Harry planned to ask around about Adelmo Balsuto. My encounter with Ben had made me forget about the mystery man’s existence, but the idea of him exhilarated me in a strange way. If he was as powerful as we’d been hearing, he could be a much better source of information. But Harry wasn’t confident about the reliability of his sources when it came to getting anything solid on a man like him. He wanted to talk with our stoned hotel concierge. When I asked why, he said they were sure Prez had lots of friends in the surfing community, the type of people who could fill in details about how and with whom Stella had spent her last year.

Once we arrived at our suite, I changed out of my heels and checked my email. I hoped Justin would come with me to talk about what had happened on the way back to the hotel, but he went straight to the bar. There was a message from Mike telling me Mom was “hanging in there.”

I debated how much to share regarding my meeting with Ben. Rather than admit my encounter was a disaster, I said Ben had been less than forthcoming, and we were pursuing other avenues. I promised to give details later.

After slipping into jeans and tennis shoes but keeping the V-neck, I headed to happy hour feeling anything but. I didn’t regret those moments with Justin but was clueless as to what they meant.

Cheap lights dangled from the fake thatch awning over the bar, reminding me it was only a few weeks before the holiday that had always been a big deal for Stella. Santa Claus and decorations and presents. She was super into the whole thing. Her first Christmas was the last one our family celebrated together before Dad went out for cigarettes and kept on going. Maybe that’s why we all worked so hard to give her the magic we lost.

Harry and Justin were the only customers. They had taken a table near the small bar. Prez Allen was seated with them. He wore a multi-colored shirt covered with dancing flamingos, cut-off jeans, and bright orange and purple tennis shoes. The open-air set-up provided a spectacular view of the ocean. Surfers in vibrant greens and yellows and violet swimsuits slashed in and out of the frothy water. Prez sipped draft beer and gazed longingly at them. He seemed startled when Harry stood and pulled out a chair for me.

“Prez has been telling us about the culture here in Montañita,” Justin said.

“Not sure I’d call it culture, but it’s definitely a cool place.” Once again, his brilliant smile faded a little when he looked at me. “You meet people from all over the world here.” He drained the last drop from his mug. “I’m having more beer. You guys want one? And what can I get for the lovely señorita?”

“Prez is the bartender, too,” Justin explained. “A real Renaissance man.”

“It’s Fresno, Dude. I’m from Fresno.”

“Of course,” Harry interceded. He and Justin ordered another round, and Prez suggested I try a locally brewed wheat.

“There’s no extra buzz from it, though.” He laughed and ducked behind the bar.

“No buzz?” I asked.

“Ecuador used to be famous for their special honey. They got it from bees who flew over the coca fields. People said it had a little extra zing. Must be something to it since the US doesn’t import it anymore.”

How appropriate that Stella would have landed in a country where wholesome honey had