“The maid?”
Beatrice fired again. She didn’t find that funny at all. This time it hit a little closer than before. I stumbled back. Why did I always find myself in situations like these?
“Hey, you almost hit me that time!” I yelled, lifting my arms in defense.
“Is that supposed to be a joke?” Beatrice said. Her cute Spanish accent made her sound adorable even with that large gun in her hands. “Besides, almost doesn’t count.” She shot near my feet. The bag was at her side. The bag I had so carelessly left under my bed. Another shot made me stumble backward, as Beatrice lifted the bag. She tilted it, and the money spilled from it, scattering to the floor between us.
Beatrice’s eyes beamed as she tossed the bag. It landed in my hands, half empty. I wanted to get on my knees and pick up th
