"No!" She swiped the rag over her eyes. "No. Just what I need, Crusty waving a bologna sandwich under my nose to make all my troubles go away." She shuddered. "I'd never live it down. It's tough enough proving myself to these guys as it is."
"What about one of the other women?''
"No. I don't want anyone here." Darcy shot him a pointed look. "Anyone. I've had a really sucky day. So please find your zinc oxide and leave."
Hiking up onto her knees, Darcy grabbed the toothpaste from the sink. She fell back on her bottom. She squirted a stream of mint gel on her finger and swiped it across her teeth, all the while carefully avoiding looking at him.
Max clasped his hands loosely between his knees. "There's nothing wrong with being rattled by what went down here."
Darcy pitched the toothpaste in the sink. "If you're thinking about rolling out a story of how you once ralphed after facing a shark, don't bother. It won't make me feel any less embarrassed."
In spite of her bravado, he figured she could do without his Mako shark story, or the jagged reminder on his hip. And he could never tell her the top-secret details about how he'd received the scar on his shoulder.
Max pointed to two pin-size scars on his calf instead. "Actually, it was a sea snake, the first time I came to Guam. Just a juvenile one." Lucky for him since an adult sea snake could open its jaw wide enough to span a table. Max exhaled long and slow. "I don't care how long you've been working in the water, those are scary mothers. Damned thing got ahold of my leg and wouldn't let go."
His muscles had stiffened up within a half hour, his jaw locking. He'd have died without the antivenom, but she didn't need that much detail. "There's nothing wrong with being scared into worshipping the porcelain god over there as long as you don't let the fear immobilize you when it counts.">Too damned true.
"Coincidence or not." Perry tapped his day-planner against his palm. "There's no way to tell now. We just have to weigh the risks of pressing on versus shutting down. At the end of the day, it's your ass on the line, Max. That makes it your call."
Perry could claim it was Max's choice all he wanted, but that didn't change the facts. They didn't have any hard evidence on the snake issue to warrant even a call to his superiors, much less stand a chance of convincing them to risk his cover by any major change of plans. "We press on."
Max rubbed his thumb over the family photo resting on the dresser and couldn't shake the edgy feeling he'd made the wrong decision. Perry and DeMassi were dead right about a woman messing with a man's mind. Particularly a woman like Darcy Renshaw. But he'd be rational tomorrow.
For tonight he intended to make sure nothing and no one else came near her.
"Sirs, you've done your duty by the wounded copilot," Darcy said to Bronco and Crusty as they stepped out of the rental car. Fluorescent floodlights hummed in the 2:00 a.m. silence outside the three-story VOQ. She stifled a yawn. "Enough hovering. Scat. Go play Nintendo or something."
Bronco slammed the door on the Ford Tempo, activating the locks. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Wren. Do you need help walking?"
Laughing, she backed away before Crusty or Bronco could swing her up into some embarrassing fireman's carry. "No. Thanks, really. I appreciate you driving me back from the infirmary. But I'll be fine. Even Doc Clark says so, and heaven knows flight surgeons are infamous for being hard-nosed." She turned to Bronco. "No offense to your wife."
"None taken." He winked, stopping outside her room. "Put your leg up like Cutter said and get some sleep."
"Will do, sir." She twisted the knob behind her.
Darcy waited until they climbed the outdoor staircase to the second floor, and their footsteps thudded overhead before she sagged against the tan cinder-block wall. How could a few tiny bites sting so much? Her leg throbbed like hell. Doc Clark had pumped her full of IV antibiotics and antivenom until her arm throbbed, too. Then he'd released her with instructions to keep off her leg for the night.
At least he hadn't insisted she stay in the infirmary.
How embarrassing that would have been. Forget going down in a blaze of combat glory.
She'd been grounded by a snake.
Three days DNEF—duties not including flying. Nobody dared argue with a flight surgeon's verdict. She was stuck flying a desk and passing out mission packages. Probably for the best, since she couldn't stop her hands from shaking. She just wanted to peel off her clothes and climb in the shower before she crumbled. She'd worry later about how she would fall asleep again.
Darcy trailed a finger down the splintered wooden frame until her hand steadied.
A Renshaw warrior shows no fear.
Darcy tossed her shoulders back and plowed inside.
"Bet you can't name everyone from Gilligan's Island. ''
Darcy spun on her heel. Max lounged in a chair tucked in a corner behind the door. One leg slung lazily over the arm of the chair, the other stretched out. His sea-foam windbreaker was zipped halfway up his chest, clashing magnificently with his pineapple-patterned bathing suit.
"Actors or characters?" She reached behind her to close the door—and give herself time to slow her heartbeat.
"You've had a helluva night, so I'll let you off easy with naming the characters."