17
The Faubourg Marigny neighborhood hadn’t suffered as bad as some other neighborhoods in New Orleans after Katrina, but the house J was hiding in hadn’t been favorably situated.
It was a shotgun row house with gingerbread molding in desperate need of a paint job. From the looks of it, the house had been affected by the storm more severely than others around it, or at least they had been repaired better.
Alec peeked at the house from their position half a block down. “Not what I expected a successful club owner would choose as a hideout.”
“You’d be surprised at how often someone being chased will go home,” Diana replied as she unbuckled her seatbelt and exited the car.
He followed her out. “Any plan?”
“Yeah, stay out of the way,” she called behind her.
Alec gritted his teeth as he
