“If I lived through the next day or so, I needed to start keeping track of where these jokers liked to get their bloodthirsty freak on. It might give me an edge someday. Or at least a list of places that could use a nice burning down. I hadn't burned down a building in ages.”

“I folded my arms. “I don’t usually do stakeouts.”“I thought it might be a nice change of pace for you. All that knocking down of doors and burning down of buildings must get tiring.”“I don’t always knock down doors,” I said. “Sometimes it’s a wall.”

“Someday we might look back with a curious nostalgia at the days when profligate homeowners wastefully sprayed their lawns with liquid gold to make the grass grow, just so they could then burn black gold to cut it down on the weekends.”

“And his hair was free, no ponytail, no braid, the long thickness of it waved and curled down his back, over his shoulders and next to his face. I felt my lungs start burning. Holy freaking moly… my husband was hot!”

“Uh-oh, I hope he doesn’t start rattling off dirty limericks next; she’ll probably burn the hotel down.”

“I was getting the hang of arson. It really sends a message, you know? Not only will I kill your dudes and steal your shit, but I will burn your place down behind me.”