They Called Me His Maid—But When the Mafia Boss Ran Into the ICU, He Learned I Had Been Protecting Him From His Own Men

A sliver of fluorescent light on the floor. Voices behind the door.

She should have walked away.

Instead, she pressed one hand against the cold metal and listened.

“Is it set?” Marcus Reed asked.

Another voice, younger and nervous, answered, “Yeah. Remote detonation. Clean once the ignition sequence completes the second cycle.”

“No traces?”

“None.”

“Be gone continue reading …