After googling just a little bit harder, I managed to find it.
The story in question is The Triumph of Pegasus by Frank A. Javor from the anthology 'Mythical Beasts: Isaac Asimov's Magical Worlds of Fantasy, Vol. 6'
Lady asks for (nay, demands) a flying horse
"I want a horse," the sitting woman said matter-of-factly, "with wings."
"A horse," Colin started to say and then did a mental double-take. "A what?"
"A great idea, isn't it?" A horse that can fly. Nobody, but nobody in the association, in the world, will be able to top that."
They discuss how large dinosaurs flew before settling on making the pegasus out a 'back-bred' bird embryo.
"Weight," Bullitt said. "Don't prattle about weight. Only last night on TriV we saw a ... some kind of a flying dinosaur. Weight." He snorted.
"A reptile," Colin said, and it was quicksand he felt the suction. "A pterodactyl. But even the largest of those had only a twenty-foot wing span."
It then eats the unfortunate Mrs Bullitt.
Somewhere, greedily, slaveringly, the Bullitt beast was at long last feeding.
Hunched, wrapped in blankets, holding steaming mugs, Colin and Ed, in the cockpit of the patrol boat that had pulled them out of the river. Ed still shaking his head.
"It went for us. Did you see how it went for us?"
Colin didn't answer him, knowing that Ed wasn't looking for him to. Remembering the two of them in the police copter, with the pilot and the man with the heavy carbine. Tracking their animal, homing in on the emitting signals of its data transmitters until, on the rocky face of the cliffs, halfway up, they caught the glint of the sun on its gold-green skin.
"There!" Ed shouted, pointing, and the copter hovered close.
Crouched it was, on the jutting shelf. The great wings half unfurled, opening, closing, twitching.
"Do you think she's still alive?" the man with the carbine said, then, "Forget it."