I drew in a big breath, pulled on my proverbial bigger girl panties, and tipped my chin up.
“Look out, New Orleans, we’re coming for you.”
A knock on the door turned us all around, and a booming voice echoed through with the use of a megaphone.
“Bree O’Rylee?”
“Who’s asking?” Corb shouted back.
“We have a warrant for her arrest for the murder of Alan Walker.”
Well, shit.