"Because hurt animals are more dangerous," Sterling said. "It moved like its hindquarters were off. One back leg… I need something to ward it off."
"There's a chair behind you," she said.
He reached behind him without taking his eyes off the gator. He dragged the chair around in front of them.
The gator opened its mouth wider and hissed louder.
"That can't be good," Juniper said.
"Probably not." Sterling pushed the chair toward the gator—legs first, the way you'd fend off a dog.
"There's a broom by the table," she added.
He curled his fingers around a wooden handle, and he brought that up too. Now he had four wooden legs and a stick between them and the open mouth.
Fucking gator threw itself at the chair and got a leg in its jaws and the whole chair bucked in his hand, wrenched sideways with a strength that ran up his arm and into his shoulder. He planted his feet and shoved. The gator let go and slammed down onto the boards, jaws cracking shut on nothing.
"Up," he said. "On the rail. Now."
"It can climb?—"
"It can't balance. Go."
She got a knee on the porch rail and crawled onto the wide top board one hand clutching the corner post. He hopped up beside her, boots on the rail, the broom still in his hand, both of them four feet up the channel-facing edge of the porch with the gator turning in slow furious circles below.
The gator hit the base of the rail and reared up off the boards, chest heaving, jaws wide. Juniper's hand closed hard onSterling’s arm. The gator’s front claws hooked the bottom board. It hauled itself forward, the whole front of it rising as its pale mouth came up level with their boots.
Thankfully, its back end didn't follow.
Its bad leg slid out from under it, claws raking down the wood with a sound that echoed like an owl through the night, and the animal dropped, heavy onto the porch. It thrashed once then went still, banked against the bottom of the rail, breath sawing.
Beside him, Juniper exhaled forcefully. "I didn't sign up for this when I moved here," she mumbled. Juniper had her back against the corner post, balanced like she'd done worse things in darker places. Or, at least, that's how Sterling read it because he was seeing a whole new side of Juniper, the always smiling pub owner.
"I'm being held hostage by a gator."
"You're handling it well."
"I'm screaming on the inside."
He wasn't so sure about that. While he couldn't say he was calm, he'd been in bleaker situations. Based on her reactions, he had to wonder if she had too. Same with the burglary.
He couldn't let it go. He glanced up toward the sky. Toward the roof line of the bungalow. He wasn't looking at anything particular. Just taking in the structure, and his training kicked in like it always did. Maybe they could fling themselves up on the roof. He might be able to find something to grip and then…
He squinted and let his gaze follow the roofline. Cameras. Not unheard of. Many people had security systems. But there were three on her roof. They were well hidden. He might not have seen them if he hadn't been looking for a way up. Not to mention these weren't just any cameras. They were military grade. He knew that because he had the same ones.
Fuck.
He followed the angle of one of them right to his house.
Double fuck.
"This gator's looking awful hungry," Juniper said. "Any idea how long before Trent gets here?"
He pulled out his phone, thumbing it one-handed, broom braced under his other arm. "Maybe five minutes."
"A lot can happen in that short time."
"We're fine right here."
