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Striker’s fingers flexed. “It’s not like that. She’s my partner.”

“She’s a cute partner,” Ash said. “I’ve asked her out several times, and she always turns me down. I reckon she’s got her eye on someone else.”

Striker scowled at him. “I didn’t know you’d asked her out.”

Ash shrugged. “She’s gorgeous, smart, and wears those cute jumpsuits so well. Why would I resist that?”

“Show some respect,” Striker growled. “Wren’s not like that.”

“Not like what? You’re telling me she doesn’t like to cut loose?” Ash said.

“She’s not...” He scraped a hand down his face. “She’s focused on her work.”

“All work and no play makes for a dull as shit life. Isn’t that your motto?” Ash said. “Don’t tell me she’s turned you down, too?”

“Hey, guys, let’s give Striker a break. He’s been through hell and back.” Hunter jerked his chin up as he caught Striker’s gaze. “You get to the medical bay and get yourself checked out. Then hit the shower and have something to eat. We’ll deal with the animals.”

“I should help Wren with the unloading,” Striker said.

“She’s got all the help she needs,” Hunter said. “You take five. We’ve got your back. Come on, guys. Let’s go see what they’ve bagged.”

Hunter, Rexx, and Ash strode to the ship.

Striker turned, and his gaze settled on Wren. Cleo had an arm around her shoulder, and their heads were pressed together. Daisy and Georgia had joined them.

Wren wasn’t on her own. There were people looking out for her, just like his squad did for him. He wasn’t doing anything wrong by leaving.

He turned and walked out of the docking bay. It was better if he stayed away from Wren. She was better off without him.

He just needed to find a way to feel better when he wasn’t around her. But that was his problem, and he’d live with it.

Chapter 9

“You’ve got to eat something. You’ll never get big and strong if you refuse food.” Wren stepped back from the small pen and sighed.

Most of the new arrivals were thriving. Over the last forty-eight hours, they’d had medical checks, their injections were up-to-date, and their vitals scanned and monitored. It was only the little norkie hybrid causing her concern.

Wren set the food down and yawned. It had been nonstop since they’d returned to the Apocalypse.

She’d grabbed a few hours’ sleep each night, but her thoughts had been on the animals when she’d rested. This new intake meant a whole heap of work. And although it was exciting, it was also exhausting.

“You’re still here.” Dallin strolled into the lab. He had a taclib in his arms and another draped over his broad shoulders. He wore his hair longer than most Apexians and was always pushing it out of his purple eyes. He was quiet when away from the lab, but the lab was his home, and he relaxed when he worked alongside Wren.

“I could say the same for you. I don’t think you’ve taken more than a five-minute break since I arrived back with this lot.”

“Who needs rest when you’re having so much fun?” He grinned as he placed a taclib into a pen and shut it. “I found a profile match. We’ve got a new breeding pair of taclibs.”

“That’s great news. At the last count, there were only fifty viable breeding pairs in the wild.”

“And now there’ll be more, thanks to you and Striker.”

Her joy faded at the mention of Striker’s name. “Of course. We got a lucky break.”

“You getting abducted by the Gente was hardly lucky.”

“No, I didn’t mean that. But finding all the animals on the ship. We couldn’t let the Gente take them.”

Dallin nodded as he slid the other taclib from his shoulder and placed it in a pen before shutting the door. “Striker’s not been by since you got back. He usually drops by to see how things are going.”