I should’ve gone with her. Night is falling, and we’re in the fucking desert. There are coyotes and mountain lions and who the hell knows what else creeping around, looking for their next meal.
I reach the door in two strides, skipping the steps and catapulting myself out onto the cracked desert floor.
My heart slams against my rib cage as I take in the tense scene before me.
Lucy stands frozen with fear, her dark eyes fixed on Gizmo. The hamster is hunkered down in the dirt, maybe ten feet in front of her. He’s screeching in terror, and who could blame him?
The tiny rodent stands face-to-face with a large reddish-brown snake.
It must be two feet long, and its body is coiled to strike, tail flicking side to side, rattling menacingly.
The park rangers warned us about rattlers earlier today, but hell if I can tell what kind it is. The only thing I remember is that their venomous bites are painful, though rarely fatal to humans, if treated promptly.
I doubt the same can be said for tiny rodents.
“Miles.”
Lucy’s voice shakes, and when she turns to me, her dark eyes are brimming with fear.
“Don’t move,” I order, racking my brain for a way out of this mess.
The snake is already in striking distance. There’s no way Lucy or I can get to Gizmo first. Certainly not without getting bitten ourselves.
Not that I’m about to let Lucy make a grab for the hamster.
I know she cares about him, but her safety comes first.
She must read my thoughts, because her mouth quivers and tears fill her eyes.
Fuck.
There’s no way she’s going to stand here and watch her pet get eaten alive. And I can’t ask that of her. I may not be a card-carrying member of the Gizmo Gonzalez fan club, but I’m not a monster.
I have to figure this out.
If I don’t, Lucy will be devastated. She loves that annoying little fur ball.
The snake hisses, and its head bobs, but it doesn’t strike.
Not yet.
Could Lucy’s presence be keeping it at bay? I know it will attack if she approaches, but perhaps the snake is also mired in the standoff’s tension, weighing its odds against a much larger predator.
The rattler shakes its tail aggressively, and Gizmo lets out another high-pitched shriek.
“Lucy,” I say, keeping my voice low and steady despite the fear clawing at my throat. “If you want to save Gremlin, you’ll have to trust me.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lucy
“What are you going to do?” I demand, pulse thrumming.
I trust Miles. Of course I do. I wouldn’t be sleeping with him if I didn’t, but this isn’t some action movie with unbelievable heroics and an even more unbelievable happy ending.
This is the real world, and there’s a freaking rattlesnake about to eat Gizmo for dinner.
My stomach bottoms out.
