Page 7 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

Dana followed the bronze-skinned stranger out into the bustling streets of the French Quarter.

“Vincent George, by the way,” he said as he led Dana off Bourbon Street to St. Peter. “But everybody calls me George. And you are?”

“Jane,” Dana said, giving the pseudonym she’d become accustomed to using.

“You got a last name, Jane?”

“Doe,” she said, making him laugh.

He stopped in the street to gaze at her. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“So, I’ve been told.”

“Well, Jane ,” he said, overemphasizing her alias. “Where to?”

She could see Touchdown Jesus, the affectionate name given to the giant statue behind St. Louis Cathedral. Tonight, like most nights, its massive shadow loomed against the backdrop of the Gothic Cathedral as Dana moseyed down Royal Street.

Her hotel was a short walk from here. Habit had her stopping at the entrance to the narrow lane known as Pirate’s Alley. It was the route she usually took on her way home, but tonight a ghost tour blocked her path .

She stood with George, waiting for them to pass as a local guide regaled the tour with the completely inaccurate legends of Jean Lafitte, Voodoo priestesses, and vampires.

George shook his head, a good-natured smile on his face as the last few stragglers stumbled by. One asked the tour guide, “Is it true that there are secret vampire bars in the French Quarter that serve blood?”

“Yeah,” George shouted. “Why do you think the Bloody Marys are so popular at Muriel’s?”

The guide glared at them. “It’s not the vampires you need to worry about. It’s the local witches that will beguile you in the Quarter.”

The straggling tourists stared at George and Dana, giving them a wide berth, whispering to each other as they rushed to catch up with the rest of the group.

“If they’re going to charge money, the tours should at least be factual,” Dana muttered.

George waved her off. “It’s harmless fun. Besides, we don’t care why they’re here, only that they keep coming. Tourism is the lifeblood of this city.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be better if they took the time to learn the true history of New Orleans?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You some kind of history buff?”

“Just someone who prefers the truth.”

“Truth, huh?” He laughed. “Well, if you want to see the true Nawlins, you came to the right guy.”

He extended his hand, and Dana found herself tempted by the offer. Her phone rang again. She knew it was Jake without looking. They had an arrangement. It was the one condition he’d demanded. Proof of life. Each night she’d agreed to text him to let him know she was okay.

Tonight, she’d yet to do so, hence the repeated calls.

She looked at the time. It was just after midnight, which meant it was 6 AM in Paris .

“Oh, I know that look,” George teased. “Boyfriend calling to check in?”

Dana shook her head. “No.”

“Husband?”

“Definitely not.”

His grin widened. “Then nothin’s holding ya back.”

It was true. She’d come here to forget. But try as she might, the icy grip of her last case and everything it’d cost her still surfaced each time she closed her eyes. Maybe it would never go away. Or maybe she wasn’t trying hard enough.

George was offering her the distraction she craved. And he was a cop. There was no one safer to spend her time with. Even Jake couldn’t argue that logic.

Decision made, she silenced her phone and took George’s outstretched arm. “Show me the true New Orleans."

He grinned. “At your service.”

“Where are we headed?”

“This is Nawlins. Food is always the first stop. Have you been to Coop’s yet?”

Dana shook her head, making George flash his dimples again.

“You’re in for a treat.”