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Cleo frowned. “Let’s see what they think of getting a single profile.” She typed in a message and sent it back to the Gente.
The response was almost instant. “Agreed. One profile as an example of your female’s genetic health is acceptable.”
Wren grabbed a medical kit from the locker, pricked her finger to get a sample of blood, and pressed it on the keypad. “ELVIS, transmit my details to the Gente ship. And send them my full health profile from the lab.”
“Not that as well,” Striker said.
She glanced at him. “They may as well have it all. They need to see I’m healthy and fertile.”
“It’ll only make them want you more,” Striker said. “Fight harder to keep you when they realize this is a trick.”
“And you’ll be there to bring us back safely if this goes wrong.” Sloane patted his arm. “We’re always so grateful for our Apexian protectors.” She fluttered her lashes.
Striker grunted. “It had better not go wrong.”
“We’re getting a reply,” Cleo said. She was quiet as she read the message. “Okay, they’re satisfied. They’ve sent coordinates of where to meet.”
“Let me see.” Striker strode over. He spent a moment studying the coordinates. “It’s not a bad location. No nearby planets or places where they can hide extra ships.”
“That’s as good as we’re going to get,” Wren said. She looked at Cleo. “Are we all set?”
Cleo nodded. “ELVIS, lock in the coordinates and set a course.”
“Course is set,” ELVIS said. “We’ll be there in four hours.”
“Striker, gather the rest of the Apexians and audit our weapons. We should have everything we need, but double-check it’s working and in good condition,” Cleo said.
“It always is,” he said, not taking his eyes off Wren.
“Even so, we have to make sure everything runs smoothly on our side. You know what’s at stake.” Cleo’s gaze went to Wren.
Striker huffed out a breath before nodding. “We’ll get to work on that. There won’t be any mistakes on our side.”
“Of course there won’t,” Sloane said. “You’re awesome. Go kick Gente butt, hot stuff.”
Wren turned away, but the tension spiking from Striker spiraled around her. She didn’t want to go on this mission when there was this distance between them.
“Can I speak to you alone?” he said, his voice gruff.
She turned and gulped. He was right in front of her. Only inches separated them. “Of course. But you’re not talking me out of this.”
“I know. I’d still like to speak to you.” He extended a hand.
She glanced at the other women. Their expressions were a mixture of surprise and amusement. She grabbed his hand.
Striker led her out of the cockpit and along the corridor.
Blood thudded in her ears as they walked beside each other in silence. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I’ve been thinking about this mission.”
“I know you’re not happy about it. And I know you’d rather I didn’t go, but this means a lot to me. Striker, we don’t have a great track record when it comes to getting things right in the field. We’ve messed up a few times.”
“I have. I haven’t always taken this work seriously. I haven’t always taken you seriously. I regret that.”
She tugged on his arm until he stopped walking and turned to face him. “No, I’m glad you’re my partner. Maybe I play by the rules too rigidly at times. It’s because I want to keep us both safe. I don’t want to lose you. I... I care about you.”
His hot gaze met hers, sending a thunderbolt shooting through her.