Page 3

“He’s being... Striker,” Wren said. He was a jerk, but he was also her partner, and she wasn’t disloyal to her crew.

“Hey! There’s movement out here.” Striker had wandered away and was peering around the rock.

“I’ve got to go, Cleo. Striker’s spotted something.”

“Just say the word and we’ll come get you when you’re done,” Cleo said.

“Will do.” Wren cut the comm link, grabbed her equipment, and dashed after Striker. “Wait! You’re not supposed to expose yourself.”

“I’m not exposing myself. No one can see me.”

“Get back here. We’ll see on the scanner when the creature goes inside the trap.”

“Let’s give him a helpful nudge.” Striker stepped out from behind the rock. “I can see him without even using the scanner. He’s a big guy. I reckon I could get him, though.”

“Don’t touch him. He goes into the cage and back to the ship. We can’t risk contamination.”

“I’m not contaminated. I always ace my weekly check-up. I get a clean bill of health every time.”

“Striker, please. Wait until the trap triggers. We can’t get this wrong.”

His amused smile had her gritting her teeth. When would he ever take this seriously? He may only have taken this gig because it paid well, but this was her whole life. Her biggest passion was species preservation. She wasn’t letting Striker screw this up for her.

Wren glanced down at the scanner. She frowned. There were four red dots. It wasn’t uncommon for sapo explosivos to travel in pairs, but they weren’t sociable outside of the mating season.

When she looked up from the screen, Striker was gone. She groaned and hurried out from behind the rock. Her breath caught in her throat. Striker was creeping toward a large male sapo, his hands outstretched.

“Striker, no!” she hissed over their shared comm link.

He acted like he hadn’t heard her.

“Get back here. If you scare it, it’ll—”

Striker lunged. The sapo emitted a high-pitched alarm call and doubled in size.

Wren ducked, but she wasn’t quick enough. The air was filled with a toxic, sticky goo that splattered across her helmet and clothing.

She wiped the foul goo off her visor and strode over to the mess.

Striker was on his back, clutching what was left of the sapo explosivo. “Whoa! Did you see that? I didn’t think it would do that.”

She wanted to punch him. “You’ve ruined it! This mission has been a waste of time.”

“Relax. How was I to know it would go nuclear when I touched it?”

“Sapo explosivo, you cretin! It means exploding toad! Read the mission docs; they tell you everything. We’ve been tracking this creature for months, trying to get a healthy specimen, and you had no clue what we were after.” She glared at him, the amusement in his eyes only making her angrier.

Striker remained on his back, flicking bits of sapo off his fingers. He looked at her, tipped back his head, and laughed.

It was official. No matter how hot he was, she hated him.

***

“You could give me a hand up.” Striker held out one goo-covered hand to Wren. The glare she gave him would terrify most aliens, but she didn’t mean it. She was way too cute to be cruel.

“Help yourself. Since you’ve ruined this mission, you can report back to Cleo what you’ve just done. You’re impossible.” She turned and stomped away.

He appreciated the view as she walked. That jiggle beneath her black fitted all-terrain jumpsuit always gave him a thrill. And she was so cute when she got angry. Those round cheeks got flushed, and those large almond-shaped blue eyes would glow like a fire burned inside her.