Prisoner (Criminals & Captives, #1)

by Annika Martin

“This place is ours. It’s a good place.” I turn, lying on my good shoulder. “Safe from everyone,” I whisper, sliding a wisp of hair off her forehead even though I’m not supposed to be moving my arm. “A bare bulb with the price tag on it, from fifteen years ago.” I lean my head to her ear. “You know I can’t let you leave.” She slides a sly gaze to me. It’s different when I say it now, but it’s still true. I can’t let her leave. My heart pounds as she looks back at the ceiling. “You deserve a nice place, that’s all,” she says. “I mean, it has beautiful features, but it feels kind of abandoned still. Temporary.” “Nobody’s going anywhere,” I grate. She turns to me. “Right, but you can’t decorate it with nice things?” “Decorate it?” She snorts. “Guys.” She wants to make it nice. A strange feeling comes over me, like when somebody gives you the last burger even though you’ve been an asshole all night. “It wouldn’t be hard,” she says. “A decent fixture. Some paint for the ceiling or something. Pictures on the wall. Wouldn’t you like that?” My breathing starts to feel funny, a kind of soft heaving, because somewhere back in the cobwebby part of my mind where I never go, I remember somebody, a foster mom, maybe, caring about what was on the ceiling. Hanging toy things from the ceiling, like it mattered what the fuck I saw.