MAFIA’s COLLATERAL’S GIRL
Atkins stands by the doors, peering cautiously out through a narrow crack between them.
Eventually, Maya steps into the garage. His expression is solemn, and his face is covered with sweat.
“It’s okay,” he says to Atkins. “You can return to the house. Take them to another bedroom. We have to clean up.”
Atkins nods, but my feet refuse to move. I take deep breaths, thankful that Alfredo is alive. “I need a minute,” I tell him. “I have to catch my breath.”