Lurch crowded behind him. "You wanna kick it in or should I?"
"Move. I've got it." Max backed a step. Gun up and ready, he kicked the door once, twice.
The panel crashed inward. Leading with his Glock, Max swung into the gaping doorway.
And confronted the very last scenario he would have expected. Hell, he couldn't have ever envisioned this one.
Darcy lay on her side on the floor beside the bed, legs tangled around bed sheets and...a snake.
Relief warred with a new dread.
Her arms extended and taut, she aimed her gun at the ten-foot twitching serpent. A snake whose head wasn't more than six inches away from her. With a striking distance half of its length, the creature would have a reach far beyond what it would take to nail Darcy.
A brown tree snake—he identified quickly—it only carried mild venom. Not a problem. Unless it struck repeatedly.
Max eased into the room. Closer. Careful to keep his movements unthreatening, he extended his hand, ready to immobilize the undoubtedly pissed reptile. "Darcy, you can stop. I'll take care of him."
Her hand clenched around the trigger.
"Easy now." Max held still, kept his voice even, hoping to calm the woman as much as the snake.
"Shift that gun to the side. I can stop this fella faster and safer than any more bullets. Okay?''
Her finger slid off the trigger. Her throat moved with a long swallow.
Slowly, he placed the gun on the floor. No sudden moves until...he...was...
Ready.
His hand shot forward. His fingers locked around the snake. Just behind its powerful jaws. Immobilizing its mouth.
Relief, too much, churned through him. He shoved it aside before it distracted him.
Max didn't have to debate what to do next. Given the need to control the tree snake population on Guam, the fact that it was near death anyhow and that the damned thing had scared the tough-as-nails Darcy pale, the snake would die. A quick snap and he put the snake out of its misery.
Max hefted aside the limp reptile and crouched by Darcy. "You okay?"
She elbowed up, wincing. "Positively zippy."
And nearly naked.
Now that the initial crisis had faded, his eyes took in Darcy sprawled on her side. And there was plenty of her to see.
Sweet mercy and The Doors, the woman was so hot she could make a man forget how to swim. "Take a second to catch your breath."
While he found his.
Her matching panties and ribbed tank top, some kind of pale-orange color with flowers patterned over every enticing inch, weren't the garb he found on most sharpshooters. But the dichotomy added a sexy edge to Darcy's vibrancy. Sure he'd scoped out her legs earlier, but the whole bedroom setup with her br**sts full and unrestrained against the ribbed shirt sent his every molecule of testosterone to full chemical boil.
Not that he imagined she would want the growing crowd, or even him, checking her out right now.
Max nudged his gun under the bed and out of sight as he reached over her shoulder to drag the spread off the mattress. His bare chest brushed her damned near bare one. No lingering there, chump. Especially not with the group of gawkers standing behind them and Darcy's pupils still dilated with fear.
Adrenaline and anger pulsed overtime even as he told himself she would be fine. One cranky brown snake wouldn't bring down this woman who didn't have a wilting-flower cell in her body.
He wrapped the blanket around her, tucking her orange underwear out of sight. "Here you go."
Later he would think about why the hell it was so important to shield her from everyone's eyes but his own.