Page 57

Striker glanced at Wren. It wasn’t his safety he was worried about. “They’re always in my favor.”

“Have we got anything they want?” Blaze said. “We could trade with the Gente.”

“Not if they have a fleur ibex,” Wren said. “Nothing’s that valuable.”

Cleo looked around the group. “Wren, you know the most about these animals. Whatever we decide, I want you on the retrieval mission.”

“No, that’s not happening.” Striker lurched forward in his seat, his heart a jack hammer in his chest. “We don’t need Humans on this mission.”

“Screw you.” Georgia shot him the bird.

“Cleo’s right,” Wren said. “I know how to treat most creatures.”

“Dallin should go,” Striker said. “He knows almost as much as you do.”

Dallin scratched his head but nodded. “I don’t like to admit this, but Wren knows more than me about specific animals and their quirks.”

“You’re not helping,” Striker growled. “Wren stays here.”

She shook her head. “I’m needed on the mission. I need to be where the animals are. I have to be there when we find them to make sure they’re safe. Some of them could need emergency treatment.”

“So we ship them back here as quickly as we can,” Striker said.

“Wren’s on this mission,” Cleo said. “That’s not up for debate. We need our top people on this job.”

Striker scowled at Cleo. He looked at Wren, and his concern grew. Her determined expression showed him she was doing this, no matter what he said.

“We’ll run through the options. Maybe we could try a diplomatic approach with the Gente. They won’t want their illegal activities drawing too much attention.” Wren glanced at Cleo.

“We can try, but the Gente aren’t usually open to negotiations. And their public image is already lousy,” Cleo said. “They don’t have much to lose.”

“They’ve always been shoot first and ask questions later assholes,” Ash said.

Cleo straightened and nodded. “Okay, everyone. I need your heads in the game. No distractions. Let’s work this problem together. We’re getting these animals back. The sooner we figure out how, the better.”

A throb of anxiety hit Striker. Wren was doing this whether he liked it or not. And he hated it. Whatever went down, he wasn’t leaving her side.

Chapter 12

“You need to go to bed.”

Striker’s soft touch on Wren’s cheek had her eyes jerking open. She looked around the mission briefing room. Rexx was on the other side of the table, listening to Daisy as she talked animatedly and threw her arms around.

“I must have dozed off,” she said.

“Everyone else has gone to get some sleep. You need to do the same. You’ll be no good to anyone if you’re dead on your feet when we go on this mission.” He pulled her up. His thumbs brushed over the palms of her hands. “Let me take you to bed.”

“We’re not done here.” She stumbled along behind him to the door. “We haven’t found a solution.”

“We’re done. We’re not going anywhere for a while. And you need to rest.” Striker nodded at Rexx and Daisy before they left the room.

Even in her exhausted state, Wren noticed Striker kept hold of her hand as they walked. Something had shifted between them. This felt different. The heat between them was palpable, but it felt deeper. It wasn’t about how much she wanted to jump his bones and lick every inch of him, but he was protecting her. Keeping her safe. That was his job, but it had never felt like this before.

She stumbled through the door of her quarters. “Dinky! You came back.” She hurried over and scooped the norkie into her arms.

He squirmed and chirruped, his tail flicking with delight.

“I got him from the lab while you were asleep,” Striker said. “For once, he was in a good mood. It shows the restorative effects of a good hard screw.”