Реклама. ООО «ЛитРес», ИНН: 7719571260.
Contents
Back Story
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgments
A Word From The Author
It was early or late, depending on your perspective. The sun would crest the horizon in thirty minutes. The French Quarter was shadowy dawn-dark and quiet while moist mid- summer heat brought the stench of revelry garbage to your nostrils with mixtures of discarded food, urine and vomit.
I parked across from the Louis Armstrong Park on Rampart in front of Mamma Rosa’s, and walked alone for a minute before a hairy right forearm grabbed my neck from behind in a choke hold, the left hand held a knife point in my lower rib cage.
.....
Within seconds I heard heavy footsteps as he returned to where I was stretched out on the seashell-graveled shoulder. I held my breath, it felt like five minutes.
I felt a sharp kick in my side, and let out a groan, not a grunt, more of a holler. The white police officer’s thick hairy, rough fingers grabbed me, turning me over.
.....