The Red Canary by Rachel Scott McDaniel

Author:Rachel Scott McDaniel [McDaniel, Rachel Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Smitten Historical Romance
Published: 2020-11-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

The rattler blended into a pile of leaf litter, its beige body coiled and fanged head lifted, poising to strike.

About four feet separated the snake from Vera. Mick had a clear aim of the serpent, but—Lord, help him—he had to shoot between her legs to kill it.

“Stay still.” Mick locked his gaze on Vera’s panic-stricken eyes and inched his fingers toward his gun.

“Can I run for it?” Vera’s voice was as shaky as Mick’s confidence.

He had only one shot. If he missed, the spooked snake would surely launch at her. “No. You’re in striking distance. You won’t be quick enough.”

With slow movements, he unholstered his gun. He’d never claimed to be a sharpshooter but today, he had to be. Vera’s haunted gaze fused to his gun, and her eyes pinched shut.

“Don’t move. I’m shooting between your legs.”

Fear ravaged her face, blanching her complexion, twisting her mouth. Perhaps it was a good thing her back faced the venomous reptile. Its black, forked tongue flicked the air, and slit pupils sized up Mick, challenging him to a duel of deadly proportions.

Holding still, except for a bead of sweat coursing his temple, Mick drew a steadying breath. Like a finger’s snap, he withdrew the gun and fired.

The snake’s head flopped to the ground, and Mick exhaled his relief.

With a shriek, Vera sprang toward him, half tripping, half charging like a linebacker. She smacked flush into his chest. Her fingernails bit into his shoulders as she clung to him.

He holstered his gun with one hand and ran his other over the back of her head, hoping to soothe. Mick wasn’t the best at calming frantic females. Her frame visibly shook. Offering gentle words, he pressed his palm to her tense back, anchoring her against him.

He eyed the snake. Still dead.

Man, he disliked—no, hated—killing wildlife. Especially when men like Hewitt Chambers had worked for years to rebuild this forest’s depleted habitat to what it was now. But he’d had no choice.

Vera tipped her head back, glancing up at him with eyes dewed with unshed tears. “That was close.” Her gaze traveled from his to the gun at his hip. “I never thought I’d be thankful for a pistol.”

And Mick was thankful he’d been able to lodge the bullet between the rattler’s eyes. Otherwise, this would’ve all ended differently. “Came in handy” was all he could say. Truth was, it’d take him the whole evening to get his heart rate normal.

She tossed a look over her shoulder. Her gaze landed on the bloodied snake, and her rigid frame responded with a shiver.

“Thank you, Mick.” She turned to face him, the deep-green of her eyes more vivid than the bed of ferns surrounding her. With a delicate smile, she eased away from him, his body now void of the warmth hers provided.

Oh brother.

Trust shone in her expression, but Mick couldn’t let out a victory whoop because something else stirred in his heart. Something he would never acknowledge. “Let’s get back to the cabin.”

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