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“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll keep this beast in my line of sight, just in case your sweet singing voice doesn’t have it dancing on its giant killer paws.”

“If you have to shoot, don’t hit anything vital. We need this creature alive.”

Striker grumbled under his breath.

Wren sucked in a deep breath and focused on the pantha, keeping her gaze just above its head so it wouldn’t think she was making a challenge. She chose her favorite retro Spice Girls song and began the first line.

“What’s that?” Striker asked.

She kept singing.

The pantha’s ears lowered then straightened. Its head tilted from side to side, and its gaze settled on Wren.

“It’s sizing you up for dinner,” Striker said.

She kept singing, ignoring Striker’s unhelpful comments.

The pantha stood and took a step toward her.

Striker sucked in a breath. “Steady on now. Any sudden movements, kitty, and you’re going down.”

Wren crouched and extended a hand to the creature. She could do nothing about her hammering heart as she continued to sing, but at least she could act like she was calm. “That’s a good... oh, you’re a girl. Good girl.” She interspersed the lyrics with comforting words as the pantha edged nearer.

The pantha’s top lip curled back, and she sniffed the air.

“Striker, lower your gun.” Wren picked up the singing as the creature snarled.

“Nope. It’s still a threat.”

She shook her head as she sang some more. “The pantha is picking up on your alpha vibes. Move away.”

“You’re taking a huge risk for someone who always plays by the rules.”

She sang some more, backing away slowly toward one of the few undamaged cages in the room. She flipped open the door and sat beside it, her gaze not leaving the pantha.

The creature hesitated then walked into the cage and sat.

Wren thrust the cage door shut. “Good girl. You take a rest until we find you a nice new home and a handsome mate.”

“Huh! I don’t believe it. Your singing worked.”

She looked up at Striker and grinned. “It’s all to do with vibrational frequencies. These creatures have sensitive inner ear bones. You get the pitch right, and it relaxes them. The sound acts like a sedative.”

“Your singing did all that?” He holstered his gun.

“Yup. My singing and my knowledge. Pretty neat, huh?”

He shook his head. “Wren, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but you’re amazing.”

Joy sailed through her as she stood, her cheeks burning. “It’s my job to know these animals. And it’s a good job I do. Otherwise, this one would be dead.”

He shrugged. “I’m trained to protect you. I make no apologies for that.”

She turned and looked up at him. She’d never grow tired of seeing his face. The sparkling eyes and ready smile that made her knees weak. “And someday, I’ll do the same for you. Guns aren’t always the answer.”

“Maybe not.” A sly smile spread across his face. “I hate to say this, but your singing’s not up to much.”

“Hey! Has anyone ever told you you’re a big fat—”