Slowly, he turned around, and his heart damn near stopped beating. Holy hell. Her hair was a wild tangle. She was covered head to toe with mud, and only her lush pink mouth was recognizable. And the lethal weapon in her hand turned out to be a stick of bamboo. Fuck. When Ryan’s team found out, he’d never hear the end of it. “United States Navy?” She stepped back, wide-eyed. “I don’t—you’re American?” “Yes, ma’am.” Her gaze darted to the pistol in his thigh holster. He lifted his hands higher. She was definitely in shock, and he needed to quickly establish trust. He didn’t want her to bolt, and if she put up a fight, he’d be forced to restrain her. She stumbled back against a tree and slid to the ground. Tears glistened in her eyes as she blinked up at him. Tears of relief?
