Wanted

by Lauren Biel

“Rule number one of using a firearm for self-defense . . . know what condition your gun is in,” I scolded her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Don’t apologize for trying to defend yourself,”

“Why’d you protect me?” I asked. Her lips tightened and her eyebrows furrowed. “I protected myself. I’m harboring a fucking killer.” “You did so good,” I praised. I leaned in and kissed her forehead.

It would be absolutely fucking insane to fall for the damsel I put in distress.

“And I’m sorry I don’t feel worse about it, because you feel like home. You feel safe.”

She was the one thing I didn’t regret about all the horrible things I’d done. In a world of darkness, she was fucking light.

I loved her, but I couldn’t love her. I kissed the top of her head. “You be good, little girl. And lock your back door.”