NOLA

 

The glint of a small kitchen knife caught my eye as I crept toward the door where the iron fists of whoever was on the other side were still hammering away.

I gripped the hilt of the silver blade in my sweaty palms reflexively, catching the golden knob before it turned in my palm and I was face to face with the dust-eyed tower of a man.

 

“Well? Can I come in?” Hector rattled in his deep baritone and I snapped myself out of whatever daze seeing him had put me in, a blush rose on my cheeks as I bobbed my head in lizard fashion and opened the...