I grabbed the scanner and turned back to her slowly, curiosity morphing to wariness and suspicion.“How did you know where the scanner was?Were you in here earlier?”
“What’s your name?”
Her out-of-nowhere question distracted me.“What?”
She laughed softly.“It’s not a hard question.You know my name.It’s only fair I know yours.”
I wasn’t sure there was such a thing as fair with a woman who knew more about my ship than she should.But there was a kernel of truth in her statement too.It was only civilized to know the name of one’s...enemy?
“Dax,” I said.“Dax Cooper.”I didn’t offer my hand.
“Captain Cooper.”Her nod was as regal as a queen.It should have been out of place on a stowaway, but somehow...it wasn’t.
Then my brain caught up to what she had said.“Dax,” I corrected quickly.Captaindidn’t sit quite right.Was that what I was now?
I’d been a sergeant in the space corps.Captains were the brass.Part of the command hierarchy.The title felt heavy, especially since the squad hadn’t decided on roles.Or anything past buying a ship, really.
“Okay, Dax.Call me Lacy.”
I hid a smile.It was cute the way she thought she had any control over this situation.I held up the scanner.“Ready, Lacy?”
With a sigh and an eye roll, she nodded.“Fine.”
She sat perfectly still as I ran the scanner over first her left side, then the right.Then I passed it over her head, neck, and back.Her front torso and over her legs.
The machine processed all the data, then spit out a diagnosis.“Good news,” I said, reading off the screen.“Nothing is broke?—”
“I told you I was fine,” Lacy interrupted.
I glared at her and went back to the diagnosis.“Nothing is broken—it’s mostly bruises.But,” I said loudly when she looked ready to interject again, “your left shoulder is partially dislocated.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice.“No wonder it hurts so bad.”
“Yeah, that would do it.”Sympathy warred with exasperation.I’d dislocated my shoulder in training and it hurt like a motherfucker.The fact that she was still standing, rather than moaning in pain, was impressive.“We need to pop it back into place.”
She paled.“Shit.”
I didn’t envy her the next few minutes.“Yeah, it’s going to hurt, but then it will get better.”
She swallowed audibly.“Fine.Do it.”
I winced, hating what I was about to say next.“We’ll need to get your coverall top down.It could get in the way of resetting.You’re, um, wearing something under that, right?”Way to sound like a creeper, Dax.
“Do we have to?”
I nodded.
“Fine, let’s get this over with.”She braced her left arm on her stomach and grabbed the zipper with her right.The dark fabric of the coveralls parted, revealing a white undershirt.When the one piece was undone to her waist, she started to shrug out of it but gasped in pain.
“Do you want help?”
“Yes, please.”Her words were clipped.
I circled to her right side.“This side shouldn’t hurt as much.”I grabbed her right sleeve and pulled it away from her body.She bent her elbow and pulled her arm out, revealing smooth pale skin and subtle muscles.
Easing behind her, I gently moved the fabric as close to her shoulder as I could get.“I’ll go as slow as I can,” I warned her as I moved back into her line of sight, “but getting the sleeve over your elbow and wrist is probably going to hurt.”
“Stop talking and just do it.The anticipation is making it worse.”
