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“Get a grip,” she warned herself. The gryphon didn’t blink his eyes. Yep, and it didn’t fly from the back room and station itself at the door, either. She gulped and leveled the beam of the flashlight on the statue once more. Only what stood there now was a man, a large man with dark hair, a beard neat and trim…and eyes that glowed like the gryphon’s eyes had.
“You cannot take the item from the museum,” the man’s deep voice boomed with authority meant to intimidate, and his words were flavored with a Greek accent. “You must return it immediately,” he finished the threat. Sure there had been no threat voiced, but she all but heard the ‘or else’ just as clearly as if the words had been spoken.
“Who are you?” she countered, even though she had no right to inquire. Obviously, this man must be the night guardsman. Her gaze slid over his attire and frowned. He wore garments she’d only seen painted on Greek vases and paintings—an intricately designed tunic, a dark colored cloak, and gold sandals adorned his feet. Her one eyebrow lifted. Perhaps he was a thief who liked theatrics. She had an uncle who liked to dress like a caped superhero when he went on his jobs.
She straightened her back and met the guy’s gaze head on. “I think you need to leave, or I’ll call the cops.” She pulled out her cell phone and lit up the screen to prove her point. The guy didn’t have to know she was bluffing. She didn’t want the cops here anymore than he probably did.
He didn’t quite react the way she thought he would. Oh no, he had the audacity to laugh, a deep guttural laugh. “You amuse me human woman,” he told her.
“Human woman?” Okay, this nut-job was off his meds. “Fine, you stay here, and this human woman will say good evening. It’s been a long day. I need to head back to my spaceship before E.T. calls home and tells Mom and Dad I’m late.”
The man’s brows furrowed, deep creases marring his forehead. Maybe she loaded on the crapola a little thick. It was best to end this conversation and get out of Africa—as her father would say—and make like a cheetah on the hunt. She took a few cautious steps toward the front door.
“You will halt,” he demanded with his palm up as if his stance alone could stop her.
Well, yep it did, for a full three seconds. She knew some self-defense moves, but this guy was built like he lifted weights in his sleep just so his bulk didn’t decrease in the middle of the night. It didn’t appear like the front door was an option, but… her gaze latched onto the window next to it. “Oh, hell.” She charged and prayed this old building hadn’t been refurbished with safety glass.
Otherwise, this stunt was really going to hurt.
About the Author:
Karen Michelle Nutt resides in California with her husband. Though her three children are grown and starting their own adventures, she still has a houseful of demanding pets.
When she's not time traveling, fighting outlaws, or otherworldly creatures, she
creates book covers at Gillian's Book Covers, "Judge Your Book By Its
Whether your reading fancy is paranormal, time travel or contemporary romances, all her stories capture the rich array of emotions that accompany the most fabulous human phenomena—falling in love.
Visit the author at her website: http://www.kmnbooks.com
Gillian’s Book Covers, “Judge Your Book By Its Cover”
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