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“Who is she?” Nash ground out.
“I don’t know. I…” Hudson looked pale, as sick and miserable as Nash was. “This can’t be happening.”
“Who the hell is she?” Nash stood now, eyeing his friend with a look that said don’t fuck with me.
“We need to find her.” Hudson strode past Nash.
“No shit.” Nash was angry. At himself. At Hudson. At Honey. “You gonna tell me who she is?” he asked one more time, already heading for the door.
“I think she could be my sister.”
That wasn’t the answer Nash was expecting to hear. But it didn’t matter. He was already behind the eight ball, and he needed to work fast if he was going to find her. The one thing he’d learned about Honey Harrison was that she was resourceful as hell. If she wanted to disappear, she would. And if that happened, he’d never see her again.
No way would he even consider that scenario. The next time he laid eyes on Honey, he would never let her go.
23
Five months later…
Key West in August was hot as hell. The air was heavy, thick with a humidity so strong, it curled hair in seconds and left everything perpetually damp. The breeze off the Gulf gave some relief, as did the frosty margaritas or iced teas sipped from the comfort of porches on lazy afternoons. The beautiful beaches, food, and nightlife were reason enough to visit the island. But there was something else that kept folks coming back year after year to vacation—and for some, reason enough to never leave.
It was the peace. The absolute tranquility of the Keys. It was a laid-back lifestyle that harkened back to another time and place. And it was exactly what Honey needed. Her life had been upended for the umpteenth time, and she’d not regretted a single day since she’d arrived several months back.
She had a job. Simone. The beach house. Most importantly, for the first time in her life, she had stability, and that had to count for something.
Honey glanced out at the water from her veranda, at the gentle lap of waves on the sand, and thought, yes, this is enough. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t looking ahead six months, plotting the next scam or working a job she hated, just to put food in her mouth. She didn’t have to take off her clothes in some seedy club, or cozy up to a new mark her mother had picked out. For the first time she could remember, Honey was in control of her destiny, and her destiny had brought her here to the Keys. She was settled, and in her own way, she was happy. As happy as she’d ever been. And that was saying something.
A small curly haired terrier tore out of the house and jumped up and down, barking like a champ and running in circles. She stared at the animal and smiled. When had she become so damn domesticated? Tiny wouldn’t believe it. He’d think she’d been taken over by aliens.
Her smile faded as her heart flipped over. She couldn’t think about Tiny, because thinking about Tiny led to thinking about other things. And those other things would only upset her. She swallowed hard and blinked away tears. She couldn’t think about any of them.
The little dog barked and jumped up at her. Honey exhaled, and with one last look at the water, she patted the little head that bobbed repeated at her legs. “I know. We’re going to be late.”
They both headed inside. Honey rinsed out her glass and set in on the counter, while the dog, Stinker, as she called her, drank heartily out of her bowl and then looked up at Honey with a look Honey knew all too well.
“Nope. No way, Stinker. You’ve had your cup of food already. You have to wait until bedtime to get your treat.”
She took one last look around the small bungalow she called home and scooped up her keys from the counter. She called the dog, cinched the leash to her purple leopard-print collar, and they headed out into the heat.
The Salty Dog was barely a ten-minute walk from her place. Located in the heart of what was known as Old Town, it sat at the edge of the historical district, a quaint old building with a reputation for having the best fried fish and the coldest beer in town. The secret was in the batter, and the cook, Dane, wasn’t about to share. Not even Simone, who’d bought the place with money she’d saved over the last ten years, knew what it was. Not that Simone cared. As long as their tills were busy, she was more than happy to let Dane keep his secrets.
It was nearly four in the afternoon by the time Honey reached her destination, and she was huffing from the effort and the heat. Once inside, though, a blast of cold air sent ripples of goose bumps across her heated skin. She gave a quick wave to several regulars already bellied up to the bar, worked her way through a large group of tourists gathered at the tables, and headed for the office. It was empty. She let Stinker off her leash, and the little dog jumped onto her bed under the window. With a grunt and a small whine, she licked at her paws and settled in for the night.
Wondering where Simone was, Honey wiped at the sweat on her brow and tucked back an errant lock of hair curling against her neck. She glanced in the mirror on the wall beside the door. Her cheeks were flush, a little fuller than before, and the tan she’d all but abandoned in Crystal Lake was back. She’d applied gloss—luckily, it hadn’t melted off—and after a quick check of the armpits, grabbed her apron and headed back into the bar.
The Salty Dog was always busy, and happy hour was well underway. There were six servers, two of them waiting on their drink orders, and Honey joined Nick, the bartender she’d be working with. A college dropout, he was a few months older than her and had been holding down the bar for a couple of years. She’d liked him the moment they met. His good humor coupled with his good looks—a cross of beach bum, biker, with a dash of bohemian—made him one of the most popular bartenders in the area. He was good for business, and after Honey came on board, sales spiked even more.
They made a great team. He looked out for her, and she did the same. They were kindred spirits in a way. She knew that underneath his golden, easygoing manner, there was pain. She saw it in his eyes. And though he’d never shared his story with her, Nick had been a shoulder she needed and an ear to listen to her sad story. If not for him or Simone, she would have crumpled.
“Hey,” Nick said with a smile as she sidled up alongside him. “Gonna be a busy one.”
“Good,” Honey replied, already focused on the customer holding up his empty mug. “I need the money.” She paused. “Do you know where Simone is?” Simone practically lived at the bar, and it wasn’t like her to be absent during one of their busiest times.
Nick shook his head as he garnished four fancy cocktails and handed them off to one of the servers. “No clue.”
After that, there was no time for conversation. Happy hour gave way to the evening crowd, which was a mix of regulars, tourists, and college-age kids looking for a good time. The atmosphere, great food, cold drinks, and the entertainment kept the place hopping. By the time Honey took a ten-minute break to let Stinker out for a pee, there were only a couple of hours left until closing. She stepped out into the humid air and enjoyed the quiet as Stinker went about her business. When the dog was done, she bounded over and barked once at the door, an expectant look on her face.
They headed back inside, and Honey rubbed the small of her back while Stinker made a mess of her water bowl. She found the bag of biscuits in the top drawer of the desk and had just handed two to the dog when the office door flew open. Simone stood there, her coffee-colored skin glistening beneath the muted light from the lone lamp on the desk. She was breathing hard, as if she’d been running, and her amber eyes looked huge as she swept back a chunk of black corkscrew curls.
