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She planted her feet, set the scanner in front of her, and looked around.

Striker’s oxygen warning alerted him again. He shut it off. It was okay. He’d wait with her for a while. At two percent, he’d be in trouble.

Wren sighed and turned, resignation on her face. “I’m calling the mission. It’s a failure.”

Striker lifted a goo-covered hand. “We’ve still got samples. There could be enough DNA to make a clone.” He hated knowing he was the cause of that sadness she was trying so hard to mask. He always kept things light-hearted and fun when they were on these tedious missions. This time, it had back-fired.

Wren was always so focused on her work. She didn’t make it easy to have fun. It was a good job she was so cute, or he might have bailed on her. He probably should. Go get wasted in a bar, start a fight with an eight-foot Achie, and end things.

But Wren needed him. She just didn’t like to admit it. And maybe he needed her, too. Was having someone around to keep him from screwing up too much a bad thing?

He shook his head as he followed her back to the equipment. No, he was the joker. Don’t take life too seriously. Take the knocks, get up, and carry on.

That’s what he was known for. He wasn’t someone others relied on. He always let them down, eventually. Especially those he cared about.

And he wasn’t changing now. Not for all the sapo explosivos in this star system.

Chapter 2

“Let me take that.” Striker hovered around Wren like an irritating, gorgeous fly.

She heaved the heavy equipment case onto the shelf and set her helmet next to it. “I’ve got it.”

“You may as well use me for something, since you refuse to get naked and jump my bones.” He followed her along the corridor, away from the docking bay of the Apocalypse.

Wren resisted the urge to shove him. He was always too close. This guy had no clue about personal space.

She spun around, her anger just about remaining in check. “We should reconsider this. This partnership isn’t working.”

His brow lowered before a frown settled over his face. “Not working for who?”

“Both of us. I annoy you, and you wind me up. Let’s talk to Cleo after the mission debrief. We can suggest a reassignment.”

That was for the best. Get Striker out of her life. She’d rather work solo than keep dealing with his shit. She turned to walk away, but he caught hold of her arm, his grip tight.

“That won’t work. Everyone was assigned a partner at the beginning of this mission. Six biologists and six Apexians. That was the deal. Why complicate things by changing now?”

“I need a partnership that works. You get bored being out with me, and I get...” She waved a hand around. Right now, she wanted to pull the kill trigger on this mess and walk away for good.

“You get what? You get annoyed because I make this fun? You don’t like the fact I make a joke when we’ve been out on some star forsaken planet freezing our butts off, looking for some creature that wants to tear our arms off? I don’t see the problem with that.”

She let out a soft sigh, some of her anger fading. “That’s the problem. That’s why this isn’t working. We’ve given it six months. That’s enough time to know we’re wrong for each other.”

“No way. We’re in this together. Wren, I’m your guy.”

A curl of frustration swept through her at the determination in Striker’s eyes. “You should be glad. You’re always talking about having time off. Now, you can take a permanent break. You can find something that’s a better fit.”

“You’re not replacing me.” The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver through her.

She breathed in his musky smell, and her eyes half-closed. Why did he affect her this way? She could barely stand this alien when they worked together, but when it was just the two of them like this, her defenses wavered.

Wren sucked in a breath and stepped back. “We’ll figure out something. We can’t go on like this.” She strode away along the corridor.

Annoyingly, he kept up with her. “I agree. Life is cold without any fun. Where do you find your joy, Wren?”

“Not with you.” She punched a hand against the access button, and the door slid open into the mission briefing room. She stood glaring at Striker for a second before turning and looking around.

Cleo was already there, standing at the front, dressed in the same style of black jumpsuit as everyone else, her short dark hair slicked off her face. The rest of the search and retrieval crew were settled around the table. Five Apexians and five Humans.