Sage frowned at the small cube. “A metal box?”
“Computers don’t have to have a monitor.” Jewell chuckled.
“In my world, they do,” Zane said.
“Amen,” Sage agreed.
Honor started moving bottles around again. Sage wanted to get the hell out of the apartment. It stunk, was filled with empty liquor bottles, and God only knew how many cockroaches were lurking under the pizza boxes and take-out wrappers that littered the floor.
He couldn’t believe that someone could ignore the decline of a loved one, leaving her to hit rock bottom and do nothing to prevent it. How could a man worth his salt leave his wife to struggle like that? Why she cherished a ring given to her by someone who deserted her was beyond him. “Look, I’m sure your husband will understand.”
“What?” The woman stood up slowly and stared at him like he’d spoken Greek or something. Sage stopped. Full stop, as in froze. Had he stuttered? No, not once during the entire event, which had been about as stressful as it could get. He held on to that nugget of information. Fuck, that emergency pick-up was a middle-of-the-pool dousing, not quite the deep end that Jeremiah was talking about. But he hadn’t stuttered. Wait until he told Jeremiah. Fuck yes. He did an internal fist pump, totally hyped at the revelation.
The lights blinked on. “Power’s on,” Sage acknowledged for Jewell, who he knew was still listening.
“DPD is taken care of. No need to worry. All three declined medical treatment, couldn’t describe the assailant, and there were no witnesses inside the bar,” Zane said.
“Copy.” Well, that was a damn good thing because they wouldn’t have had to look far. He was literally a block from the bar where the DPD was congregating.
Honor moved more bottles around. The stink of old alcohol in the apartment was overpowering. Sage moved to the AC unit and tried to turn it on.
“It’s broken,” Honor said from where she was on the floor, looking under the couch without a flashlight.
“Great.” He went to the high windows and used the crank to open them. Any fresh air in the place would be a help. He watched her as she moved shit from one place to the other. “Look, possessions can be replaced.”
“Not this. This is my mom’s ring. It’s all I have left of her. I have to find the ring.” The woman muttered as she continued to move shit.
“When was the last time you remember having it?” Sage toed a pizza box. A cockroach, the size of South Dakota, scurried from under it. Sage stomped on the fucker and shivered. He hated roaches. They had them in Louisiana, too. That was why he was raised being meticulous about being clean. The fuckers thrived on pieces of food, bits of this and that. His family didn’t have the money for an exterminator to visit every quarter, so they kept the bugs manageable by ensuring nothing was left out to attract them.
“What’s going on?” Zane asked.
Sage told him what he knew. “She’s looking for a ring.”
Honor stood up. In her hand was a bottle about half full. Sage moved over and reached for it, but she jerked it away, keeping it away from him. Then she walked into the kitchen, and Sage followed her. Standing in front of the sink, Sage wagered it was a fifty-fifty shot whether or not the lady would chug the vodka or pour it out. He waited quietly as Honor faced her battle. He’d lived his entire life with a mean alcoholic. He couldn’t help her make this decision.
It took several minutes, but the woman slowly tipped the bottle and poured the alcohol down the drain. He watched, feeling a mix of emotions swirling. He was proud of her for taking this first step toward sobriety. Though he knew every moment going forward would be hard, she had gripped the courage to empty that bottle. Whether she realized it in her state or not, she’d begun the process of changing her life in one single act. Her hands shook slightly as she placed the bottle on the countertop with a gentle thud—an unmistakable acknowledgment that something monumental had just happened. Sage wanted to cheer but remained quiet. It was her victory.
She stared at the empty bottle and said, “In the bedroom.”
“What?” Sage had no idea what the woman was talking about.
“The last place I remember having my mother’s ring.” Honor walked past him, and he turned, following her. She walked through the living room, past a small half-bathroom, and opened the bedroom door.
He stopped at the doorway of a pristinely clean room. Out of place much? The closet door was open, and her clothes were hanging neatly. The bed was made, and there was a slight smell of lavender. “Don’t use this room?”
Honor walked over to the small nightstand and pulled open the drawer. She reached in and picked up the ring. “It has mirrors.”
Sage glanced around. The closet doors were mirrored, and there were two large mirrors on opposite walls. The bathroom door also had a mirror on it. “I don’t understand.”
She put the ring on her right ring finger and wrapped her arms around herself. “When you hate yourself, looking at your reflection is the last thing you want to do.”
Oh, boy. So, yeah, the woman has some hardcore issues. More than simply liking booze too much. “Do you want to shower before we go?”
Honor glanced at the bathroom and then held up her hands, staring at her fingers. He didn’t rush her. Instead, he leaned against the door jamb and gave her the time and space she needed. “Do we have the time?”
“Yeah, sure.” Sage backed out of the room. “Take your time.” He shut the door behind him and stared at the disaster in the living room. He pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket and took it off speaker. Walking to the front door, he opened it and flipped open three of the big green dumpster lids, eyeing the trash bags lying around them. Empty. Lazy-ass people.
Sage drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. “She’s getting cleaned up. Am I taking her back to South Dakota or a rehab facility?”
“Jewell’s making calls now. She’s pretty messed up, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. That sums it up.” Sage glanced back into the apartment.
“Stay with her. We’ll figure out the next step.”
“That wasn’t done before I got here?” Sage picked up two trash bags on the walkway and tossed them into the empty dumpster.
“Dude, this was never a typical pickup. That woman has mad skills on the computer. She was our nighttime supervisor in DC, and she’s a personal friend of my wife’s. She’s not an assignment. She’s a friend who doesn’t have to return to Guardian or get help. She needs to make that choice for herself.”
Sage stood with a hand on his hip and stared into the apartment. “I didn’t have to ask for help or come back to Guardian,” he spoke to himself, but out loud.
Zane didn’t say anything for a moment, then asked, “What made you decide to come back?”
“I made a promise to Smoke.” But I could have backed out of that and kept my ass down in Bienvenu. Sage had made peace with his momma before she passed, and Gus was in a nursing home and would be until he left the earth. Sage had had his momma’s house rebuilt and refurnished while he was up in South Dakota. Beau and Evangeline had checked on the contractor and sent him pictures and videos. He’d also watched the construction from game cameras he’d posted around the property. It was easy to link in and see what the contractor was doing to the outside of his mom’s house. Granted, the house was his, but he hadn’t decided whether he was selling or keeping it. Yeah, he could have stayed. He knew some assholes, but the good people outweighed the jerks.