Page 88 of Beyond the Cottage

Ansel grappled for calm. “They aren’t worth anything to you. Their value isn’t monetary, I swear it.”

“Found some dirty books!” her companion called.

“Sorry, handsome, but I don’t believe you, and we got our own mouths to feed.”

Gretta shot to her feet. “If you leave the case, I can get you more spun silver. Or cash, whatever you want. Take me hostage, and the guy in the cloak will get you anything you ask for.”

Ansel’s fists balled.Over my dead fucking body.

“Too complicated,” the woman sighed. “We like things quick and easy. Speaking of, we best be on our way.”

“Please!” The break in Gretta’s voice made Ansel want to wrap his hands around the thief’s throat and squeeze until her eyes burst. “You aren’t taking it!”

“How do you plan to stop me, munchkin?”

Gretta snarled and tensed to lunge. Ansel grabbed her by the waist.

“Breathe,” he said, running his hand over her back.

“We can’t just let her have it, Anse!”

“It’s alright. I can make more.”

“That will takeforever.”

He smiled and refrained from pointing out she had no idea how long the repellent took to produce. With a reasonable infusion of capital, he could probably replace the bottles in a month or two.

“This is only a setback,” he said. “It’s not worth getting stabbed over.”

Gretta’s body thrummed. Finally, she closed her eyes with a nod and released a slow breath.

“Get a load of this,” the other thief said, brandishing a picture frame. The woman snatched it.

“Brass,” she said, turning it over. “Junk.”

“Check out what’s inside.”

She gave him a skeptical glance and read aloud, “Hag Hacker Claims Third Victim…Local Witch Falls to Hag Hacker…When the Hacker Attacks: Cold-Blooded Murder or Vigilante Justice?”

Philip’s eyes swung to Gretta. “Youframedyour press clippings?”

She darted him a look that unmistakably saidshut up, dipshit.

Ansel released her, arching a brow. Miss Hacker, indeed. It occurred to him she probably never would have reported him to the police.

Face cherry bright, Gretta stared at the ceiling, and silence descended. The thieves stood frozen in place, their gazes raking over her like she’d spontaneously turned into a mermaid.

“Hang on,” the male robber exhaled, coming forward with a hand on his heart. “You’rethe Hag Hacker?”

Chapter 32

The man’s vivid blue eyes widened at the braids hanging from Gretta’s belt. Too late, she slapped a hand over them.

Wearing her trophies had proven reckless after all, and that rankled more than getting busted—Philip would never let her hear the end of it.

“You’re the Hag Hacker?” the robber repeated. “TheHag Hacker?”

There was little point in denying it now. Hell, considering his breathy, dazzled tone, she might be able to use this. At the very least, train robbers were unlikely to turn her in to the cops.

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