No Test for the Wicked: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Five by Julie Moffett Page A

it’s not. Finding Zogby in the presence of bomb-making materials in such close vicinity to Washington, D.C. has a lot of people at Homeland Security and the FBI quite worried.”
    “That’s probably why they kept us so long at the police station.”
    “
Si
. That’s part of it. We have a team of agents at the prison now, interviewing the parents, but I doubt we’ll find out anything. As far as we know, they haven’t made contact with their children since they were incarcerated. They’ve also had no visitors.”
    I blew out a breath. “This is getting ugly. It was a lucky break you recognized Zogby.”
    He tapped his head. “Photographic memory. Just like you.” Setting my feet aside, he stood. “The soup should be ready. Hungry?”
    “Famished.”
    Slash served up the soup while I cut the bread into thick slices and put butter on the table. We sat at my kitchen table, eating in quiet contentment.
    Slash buttered a piece of bread. “Now, let’s hear about your day. How was high school?”
    “Well, I’m
trying
to fit in.”
    He chuckled. “How’s that working for you?”
    “Ugh. Some jerk spilled his drink on me in the cafeteria.” I gave him a quick rundown.
    He raised an eyebrow. “He did it on purpose?”
    “Yeah. Resident bully and all.”
    His mouth hardened. “Do I need to pay said bully a visit?”
    “God, no. I’m not worried. He’s just a kid. A royal jerk, but still a kid. I’ve got this.”
    Slash didn’t look satisfied, but he nodded. “If you say so.”
    I sighed. “Anyway, I hope I get invited into the hackers group sooner than later. Jeez, that reminds me, I still have to do my homework.”
    Slash handed me the bread he’d just buttered and smiled. “Need any help?”
    I punched him lightly in the arm. “Hardly.”
    We finished our soup and I stacked the dishes in the sink to wash later. Carrying our wineglasses, we headed into the living room where the Christmas music was still playing. I tapped my foot to “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.”
    Comfortably full, I leaned back against the cushions. “Slash, can I ask you something?”
    “Of course.”
    “Remember how you said I could come straight to the source if I needed more information on our relationship?”
    “What’s on your mind?”
    “Well, I don’t know what to get you for a Christmas present.”
    “I don’t want you to buy me anything for Christmas.”
    “Are you going to give me a present?”
    He was silent.
    I threw up my hands. “See. I
have
to get you something. Reciprocity in a relationship is important.”
    “But I don’t
need
anything.”
    “That’s exactly my problem. What in the world do I get the man who has everything?”
    “I’ve already got what I want.”
    “That’s not fair. Unless you promise you aren’t going to give me anything, then I
have
to give you something.”
    He reached out, wound a strand of my hair around his finger. “Okay, take me to dinner the next time we go out.”
    “That’s a gesture, not a gift.”
    “Now you’re arguing semantics.”
    “In this case, semantics is important. Help me out here. Please.”
    “Okay. Let me think about it.”
    “Promise?”
    “I promise.”
    I blew out a breath. “Thank you. I sincerely mean that. But don’t take too long, okay? I have to order it and then wrap it. Do I have to get a card, too? This is really stressing me out.”
    He reached over and took my wineglass, setting it on the coffee table. “Forget about the present. How about we relax instead? I find that certain activities enhance my cerebral function, leading to more creative thoughts.”
    “You’re referring to sex again, right?”
    Slash smiled and pulled me to my feet. “If you insist.”
    I leaned into him. “That was a pretty tricky segue.”
    He began nuzzling my neck. “I can be a pretty tricky guy.”
    “So I see. Slash, can I ask you something else?”
    “Hmmmm...”
    “Can you recite a recipe from memory? That cooking thing...it’s pretty