She dropped against the wall and pushed her hair out of her face. Her fingers caught in the snarls and knots. Honor looked around and glanced down at the pile of mail on the floor. Fuck. Red overdue stamps glared at her from the tile. She’d forgotten to pay the utility bill. What day was it? What was the time? Where was her phone?
Pushing herself off the wall, she finished her trek into the kitchen and turned on the water, cupping handfuls to her mouth, not caring to find a clean cup. She turned off the water and dried her hands on her jeans as she walked back to the small living room.
Moving the empty bottles from around the couch where she’d fallen asleep, she found her phone and hit the face. Damn it. Saturday. She leaned against the back of the couch. That meant at least two days without power before she could pay her bill on Monday.
Her head ached, and she rubbed her temples. She needed a drink. Grabbing bottles off the floor, she searched for one with liquor. She found one with about an inch of vodka left in the bottom. It took thirty seconds to down the small amount. Honor rubbed her face and looked at her phone again. Seven. She glanced at the window above her. The yellow hue gave her no clue if it was morning or night. It didn’t matter. She needed a drink. Honor grabbed what was left of her cash and shoved it into her pocket. After slipping on a pair of tennis shoes, she grabbed her phone and pushed herself up, making her way to the front door.
Between her place and the liquor store were two bars. One was a biker hangout. She walked past that one even though it was the quickest way to a drink. The men used to make catcalls at her. Used to. Now they just watched her stagger by. Whatever. She still didn’t like the place. She stumbled and grabbed onto the rails of the stairs down to the Tube, a dive bar a block up. She found an empty bar stool and placed a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “Vodka and keep them coming until that runs out.”
The bartender took the money and held it up to the light before he marked it with a marker to see if it was counterfeit. Honor watched him place the bill on the back shelf and pour her a shot of vodka. She held up her hand, stopping him from leaving. Downing the shot, she motioned for him to pour another and then a third. He refilled her and lifted an eyebrow. Whatever. She talked to the man without looking at him. “You got food here?”
“Yeah. You want a menu?”
She shook her head. “Hamburger or whatever.”
The bartender put the vodka bottle back on the shelf and made his way to the kitchen. Honor hooked her feet around the bar stool and blinked at the television. She watched as the weatherman drew large circles around areas of blue ocean. He swept his arm toward Mexico and the Gulf while using his hand to indicate where the storm could go. Little lines in different colors spanned the entire map. Yeah, no one had a clue. “Big storm,” she muttered.
She stared at her glass and noticed her fingernails. They were broken and chipped. A line of dirt delineated her nail from the bed. She lifted her fingers and examined them. “Damn.” She lifted her other hand and stared at those nails, muttering out loud. Her hands shook as the image of her dirty fingernails worked its way through the vodka in her system. The side of her hand was covered in dirt. She turned her hands and stared at the palms. Oh, God. She turned her hands over. Where was her ring? Her mother’s wedding ring? It was all she had left of her mom. Honor patted the pockets of her jeans and pulled out the cash, frantically sorting through it.
No, no, no! “What have you done?” She looked up into the mirror behind the bar. The woman who stared back at her was unrecognizable. She stared at the rat’s nest her hair had become, then glanced down at her shirt. The stained, crumpled material looked as if it had been buried and then dug up. She lifted her eyes to the mirror again, and her hands covered her mouth as she realized how far she’d fallen. “Oh, God. I need help.”
Jewell. She pulled out her phone and stared at the incoming call log. Two days ago. Fuck. She’d lost two days. She hit the number and put the phone to her ear. “Are you okay?” Jewell asked immediately.
“No. I lost it. It’s not here.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“What did you lose?”
“Momma’s ring. Oh, God, Jewell. I need help. I need …” She swiped a tear. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“I’ve got someone coming to get you. His name is Sage, and he’s already in Dallas. Where are you right now? You’re not at home.”
“I’m at the Tube.” Honor grabbed a cocktail napkin and knocked over her vodka. “Shit.”
“Honor. I want you to stay there, okay?”
A hamburger and fries appeared in front of her. Her stomach flipped, and bile rose in her throat. She pushed the food away. “How long?”
“He’ll be there soon. Just wait right there.”
“No. I have to find my ring.” Honor hung up and put the phone on the bar.
“One for the road?” The bartender picked up her glass and wiped away the spilled vodka with a bar towel.
Honor stared at the glass. The overwhelming desire to numb the feelings of loss, disgust, and helplessness roared over her, cloaking her in a raging need for the nothingness the alcohol provided. She licked her lips, staring at the bottle in the man’s hand. He started to pour the liquor, but she shook her head. “No.” The word croaked from her throat as she grabbed her phone and slid off the barstool, catching herself as she landed on the floor.
“Hey, you left money here. Yo, lady!” the bartender called.
Honor let the door slam behind her and climbed the stairs to the street, heading back the way she’d come. She wrapped her arms around herself, cold even on the hot August evening.
“Hey, you keep walking by here. You need something?”
Honor looked up. A fat biker wearing jeans and a leather vest called to her from the corner of the bar and cupped his crotch. “No.” She shrunk in on herself and tried to hurry past him, but the biker snagged her arm in his grip. Honor pulled away. “Let me go!”
Someone laughed. “She’s gross, man. You don’t want to tap that. You’ll catch a disease.”
Another voice chided, “Man, you aren’t that desperate, are you?”
Honor fought, pulling away from the biker that had her in his grip. “Let me go! Stop. Help! Somebody! Help!”
His big hand covered her mouth and nose. Honor tried to scream, but the hand clamped down harder, clogging her ability to breathe. Honor struggled. Her desperation for air became as strong as her fear of the man holding her. The edges of her vision started to darken. She heard a shout before the darkness enveloped her.
“Sage, you need to hurry.”
“What’s going on?” Sage turned the corner, pulling up in front of the address he’d been given.
Jewell answered, “She’s at a bar, and she’s … I don’t know. Something’s wrong.”
“Address?”
“Sending it now.” Sage tapped on the address and hit directions on his maps app. He put the vehicle into park. “Three minutes.” He slammed the truck into gear, ran a red light, and floored the gas. “Picture?”
“On your phone.” He hit the screen when he was forced to stop at a red light. A picture popped onto his phone. Damn.