Page 10 of No Questions Asked

As she started to return to her car, the young man who’d been kneeling in the middle of the circle stood. He held a bottle with a flaming rag coming out of it. As he turned, the rag fell out. His friends laughed and scooped up the rag, but they couldn’t get it back inside without burning their fingers. They stomped it out while another guy ripped off a piece of an old T-shirt and stuffed it in the bottle.

OMG. They were planning arson or worse. If the bottle hit the woman, it could hurt or even kill her. Moreover, whoever else was in the building would be in danger from fire and the police would be too late to stop things.

But I could stop it.

Before she talked herself out of it, she pushed quickly toward the men. The new rag had been lit and now the guy was creeping closer to the front door to throw it.

He’d pulled his arm back, preparing to throw, when Gwen swung her briefcase at his arm. She mostly missed, but a corner of the briefcase glanced off his arm. It was enough to disrupt his swing. The bottle only went a few feet before falling to the pavement and shattering, spreading an oily liquid that quickly ignited.

The guy turned to her, his lips curling in a snarl, and she took a step back in alarm.

Oops! Guess I should have thought through to this part.

She prepared to run when the flames caught hold of his pants. He yelped and started swatting at his clothes, extinguishing the fire on his legs. Others, seeing the fire spreading, backed up as flames began to take purchase and roar. A couple of the guys who’d started the fire tried to jump in their cars, but the flames had already spread under the back of their vehicles, so they wisely abandoned the idea and started running.

At last, police cars roared into the parking lot and officers spilled out. The crowd began screaming and pushing to get away.

Gwen moved off to the side as the crowd dispersed and the police stomped on the fire trying to put it out. After a moment, she dusted off her briefcase, adjusted her purse over her arm, and walked toward the dark-haired woman who was still standing in the shattered doorway.

Gwen carefully stepped over the broken glass. “Hello. My name is Gwen Sinclair and I have a three o’clock appointment with Lilith Burbridge. I’m one of the microbiologists from ComQuest.”

The woman looked at her for a long moment before snapping her mouth shut. Then she smoothed down her hair and held out a hand. “Hello, Gwen. I’m Lilith. I just saw what you did. I’m a little rattled at the moment, and not exactly certain which position you’re interviewing for, but I’m sure of one thing. Whatever position it is, you’re hired.”

Chapter Six

Lexi

As soon as I heard the front door open, I rushed into the foyer.

“Slash, where have you been? My mom and Basia left nearly three hours ago. You weren’t answering my texts. What happened?”

He kissed me on the cheek and handed me a gallon of milk and the tampons, then walked into the kitchen. I looked down at the items. Everything seemed covered in a fine coat of dust.

“What the heck?” I said as I followed him. “Slash? Are you okay?”

He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and gulped it down. “Sorry I’m late. I stopped a robbery at the Quick Mart. Good news, no one got hurt and we got the stuff for free. Bad news, photos of me holding a box of tampons are going to be all over the news tonight.”

“What?” I set the things on the counter before pulling on his arm and turning him toward me. “Are you kidding me?”

He glanced at me, a pained expression on his face. “I’d never kid about me being on the news with a box of tampons.”

“Oh my God. A robbery? Are you hurt?”

He opened the cabinet with the recycling bin and tossed in the empty bottle. “I’m fine. The guy was high on something, which means he was harder to take down than I expected, but his lack of judgment—on many levels—played to my advantage. Other than a shattered display case, a broken window and several destroyed bags of potato chips, the store, the cashier, the perpetrator and I came out mostly unscathed.”

I cupped his cheeks in my hands, looking at him intently and trying to gauge if he was really okay or covering up for my sake. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

He kissed my nose. “I’m not hurt. Really.” He gave me a brief accounting of what had happened, and I listened without interrupting.

When he finished, I shook my head. “And I thoughtIhad a black cloud of trouble following me around. Thank goodness nothing happened.”

“All is well, except for one thing.” He slid one arm around my waist and dipped his head at the counter toward the items he’d purchased. “Did I get the right box?”

Was. He. Kidding. Me? “You just took down a guy who might have killed you, and you’re worried about a box of tampons?”

“Of course I’m worried.” He lifted a hand, brushing my hair away from my ear, and whispered, “Did I pass the test?”

I frowned, searching his expression for clues. “Test?”

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