Free Gryphon and His Thief by Karen Michelle Nutt Page A

stared at Calli with her long
ginger-colored hair, big moss colored eyes and… His gaze traveled
down the rest of her, taking in every womanly attribute. The woman
truly tried his restraint – not that he'd be in her league or that
she'd look at him at all if she hadn't been deranged. Yes, that was
possibly the case here. This woman was mad and he needed to ring
the police before she came unhinged. Truly, he didn't know what she
was capable of doing, but he had a hunch she'd do it well.
    He caught sight of the broken window. Perhaps
she'd smashed it with the intention of playing this elaborate jest.
His gaze shifted to the Gryphon again. The beast stared at him with
those unnerving golden-bronze eyes. The darn thing put him on edge,
always had.
    Finally, he leveled his gaze on Calli once
more. She did lay claim to being a thief, but she couldn't have
moved the heavy statue by herself, could she?
    She could have an accomplice, he
thought . And didn't that just up his panic response. No, the
woman was alone or else the other guy…or gal would have joined them
by now.
    He smiled at the would-be-thief, knowing he'd
have to tread lightly and play nice with the pretty nutter, at
least until he could ring for help, but at this precise moment he
needed to answer her. "It's a lot to take in. Yeah?" he said and
leaned back in his chair. He folded his hands, pressing the tips of
his forefingers together and tapped his chin. He glanced at the
phone on his desk and ruled out using it, since she would subdue
him before he could dial a number. Not that the itty-bitty thing
could take him down. He wasn't completely useless, but who knew if
she carried a weapon.
    "Tell me about it," she said as she eyed him
over the rim of her teacup then indulged again. She really had no
idea how to drink tea properly. One simply did not gulp it down
like a pint of beer.
    "I'll have another," she announced as uncouth
as a barmaid, which just proved his point.
    He stared at the cup for a second before he
reached for it with a sense of triumph. This was his opportunity.
There was a phone hanging on the wall in the kitchen. "I'll be
right back." He stood, but she did also. He couldn't have her
traipsing along with him. His gaze caught site of the large leather
bound book sitting next to the computer. "Um… I can manage fine.
While I'm warming the water in the kettle, you can browse through
this." He placed the cup down to reach for the book.
    "What is it?" she asked, curiosity lighting
her eyes.
    "It's a catalog of the cursed items here in
the museum. I'm sure you'll find Hecate's Stone you speak of listed
with the history of how it became cursed." He pushed the book
toward her.
    "Thanks," she said and plopped down in his
seat, making herself right at home. He picked up the cup again and
wondered if he should have been so willing to give her the
information, but it proved too late to second-guess his willingness
to help her now. He hurried toward the kitchen. At the door, he
chanced a glance to see if her curiosity was still piqued. She
flipped through a few pages then paused as if to read one of the
passages. He let out a sigh of relief he'd been holding and turned
away.
    Once in the kitchen, he placed the teacup on
the stove and rushed to the phone, mounted on the far wall. He'd
only picked up the receiver and punched in two numbers when he
heard the kitchen door behind him open. He closed his eyes and
cursed.
    "Hang up the phone, Darrien," she told him,
her voice cold and unnerving.
    He turned to face her and noticed the
revolver. It fit nice and snug in the palm of her hand, but it
might as well have been a machine gun for all it mattered. His
hands flew above his head in surrender. "I'm sorry, but I had to
try."
    She rolled her eyes heavenward before she
leveled her gaze on him once more. "I suppose you did have to try.
I would have if I were in your shoes. I did warn you, I'm not a
great storyteller, but I thought you and I had an understanding.