17
Lance kept his eye on Gwin as the phone rang. He ignored the shop clerk as she loosened a button on her blouse and leaned over, allowing her cleavage a freedom he wasn’t interested in. Lance instead looked at the buttoned-up lady bent over a musty book. The shop was mostly empty at this time of day, but he trusted no one and no thing when it came to her safety.
He looked from the door of the shop to the table where Gwin sat. Her head was buried in the book. Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders. She brushed it aside with a hand. He knew that expression. It was her determined expression.
She was determined to solve the mystery of the Stone Templars. The problem was the riddle amounted to the ravings of a madman. A madman that was still on the loose and could likely be headed towa
