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“It’s not working,” she said.

His warm, calloused hand rested on her shoulder. She pretended not to notice the heat flooding down her arm. How could his body heat seep through her protective clothing?

Striker’s touch always stirred things in her it shouldn’t. It made her want to lose control, and that made him dangerous.

“I’ll get ELVIS to take a look when we get back,” he said.

“No, we’ll put in a repair request, just like everyone else, and wait our turn. ELVIS isn’t your pet.”

“He gets bored. The ship runs smoothly, so he doesn’t have much else to do.”

“Of course he does. He’s the reason the ship runs so smoothly. ELVIS oversees all the behind-the-scenes stuff. The stuff you probably don’t understand.”

His hand tightened on her shoulder for a second before vanishing. “I understand a lot more than you think.”

She glanced up at him. A flash of hurt crossed his face before it disappeared behind a bored expression.

“I’m rebooting this scanner. It’ll take a minute before it comes back online.” She set the scanner down and opened her kitbag. She triple-checked the contents. There was the usual first-aid kit, comms device, backup comms device, emergency alert pin if anything went wrong, and a day’s worth of food and water in case they got stuck in this barren place.

“Did you bring a spare pair of panties, as well?” Striker glanced over her shoulder.

“Only for me.”

“I was kidding about the underwear.”

“You should never kid. It’s important to be prepared. Sometimes, these missions overrun.”

His low chuckle sent a hum to her center. Why did he have to be so hot, yet so annoying? One should cancel out the other. If he was annoying, he couldn’t be hot. It was a shame it didn’t work like that. She blamed those stunning purple eyes. The muscles complicated things, too.

“Any sign of our warty little friend coming back?” Striker made a grab for the scanner.

She yanked it out of his reach and switched it back on. “Give me a minute. I’ll run a new scan.”

“I could go out there. I’ve got cured meat. I could scatter some around and see if warty is interested.”

“You know they don’t eat that. That’s junk food.”

“There isn’t anything junkie about something so delicious,” Striker said. “If he doesn’t show up soon, I’ll give it a try.”

“No, you won’t. We follow protocol. We can’t let anything go wrong. I’m not being taken off active duty because you mess up.”

“I never mess up.” He lolled against the rock like some sculpted Zeus. “Sometimes, it’s good to break the rules.”

Her stomach clenched. “That’s when mistakes happen. That’s when people get hurt.”

“Are we talking about any particular people?”

She was silent. She rarely talked about her past. Why share her devastation with others?

“How about I break a tiny rule?” he said.

Wren raised a hand as the faint buzz in her helmet told her the comm link was active. “Go ahead, Apocalypse.”

“Hey, Wren. Any update on your capture and retrieval?” Cleo Newman was the perfect mixture of confident and composed. She gave her crew just enough freedom, while keeping them within the lines.

“Nothing yet. We’ve had a few blips on the scanner. The traps are set, though. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Good work.” There was a pause. “How’s everything else? Striker behaving himself?”