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Striker shifted in his seat and grunted something to Rexx, who smirked.

“It’ll be my pleasure to show you a replay.” ELVIS’s smooth, calm, deep male voice came out of a wall speaker. You never knew how ELVIS would sound. He was always trying new voices, accents, and dialects. “Where would you like me to start the replay, Georgia?”

“Ten seconds before Striker grabbed the sapo.” A wicked gleam entered Georgia’s dark eyes. “That bit had me howling. I almost peed my pants.”

“Processing request. Video is now streaming.”

Cleo sighed and shook her head but stepped out of the way as the screen behind her lit up.

Wren winced and glanced over at Striker. His expression was blank, but this had to be hurting him.

The group watched in silence as Striker crept across the dirt, his hands outstretched. Off-camera, Wren could be heard telling him to get back.

She looked away just before the sapo exploded and focused on Striker. He was staring at his hands, his shoulders tight. If only he’d play by the rules, his life would be so much simpler, and they wouldn’t be sitting here, feeling like chastised teenagers. But Striker never liked an easy life. What would have to happen to make him change?

“That’s enough. ELVIS, cut the streaming.” Cleo stood back in front of the screen. “There’s always a time and a place for thinking outside the box. Some animals we capture don’t come quietly.”

“I remember that sharp-toothed shark-faced thing that damn near tore my leg off.” Hunter D’ahar rubbed the top of his broad thigh. “If it hadn’t been for Cleo blasting it in the face, I’d be dead.”

“I was debating saving you. That was a valuable specimen we lost,” Cleo said.

Hunter chuckled. “You’ll always save me.”

Cleo’s eyes tightened a fraction, but she kept quiet.

“You still almost died.” Dallin had remained silent until now. “If it weren’t for that experimental venom reversal serum we were working on, you wouldn’t have made it.”

“I’m forever grateful to you.” Hunter leaned over and slapped Dallin on the back.

Cleo cleared her throat. “We all have to be creative now and again. But Striker, that was reckless. You had the traps set, and you’d identified the sapo was heading toward them. You should have waited. We could have a live specimen to extract DNA from and start the breeding program. Instead, we have... this.” She gestured at his goo-crusted uniform.

“I’ll get back out there,” Wren said. “We’ll make it right. We’ll get you a specimen. And Striker’s right; we have plenty of sapo DNA on us. It could be enough.”

“You know that’s contaminated,” Cleo said. “It was a good effort, but it didn’t lead to the right conclusion.”

A cold dejection settled in the pit of Wren’s stomach. She tried so hard to get things right. Could she have done better? It never felt like she was doing enough. She’d let everyone down.

“I want you back out there tomorrow,” Cleo said.

Wren’s head jerked up. “Me?”

Cleo grinned. “There are only six biologists on this ship, and we have thousands of creatures to catalog. I want you and Striker in the field tomorrow. Here are the details of your new mission.” She pressed a finger on her tablet.

Wren grabbed her own tablet off the desk and accessed the file, excitement simmering inside her. She had a new assignment. She thought that would be it. Three strikes and she was out.

“Thanks, Cleo. We won’t let you down,” she said.

“Whatever it is, we’ll bag it and bring it back,” Striker said.

Cleo pressed her lips together. “Follow the protocol, Striker. Your mission is to protect Wren and keep her safe. You look out for the danger, and she’ll deal with the wildlife.”

His intense gaze settled on Wren, making her insides flip. “Got it. Protect Wren. Always.”

She suppressed a sigh. Just when she thought she had a handle on how he made her feel, he got serious and stormy-eyed, and she lost herself. She was pathetic. He was a hot, muscled warrior, and she was... well, she did okay, but she was a biologist. A lab geek. A cute lab geek when she wasn’t covered in toad crud, but even so. Plus, Striker was an enormous irritation to her. Those things didn’t gel.

“Wren and Striker, you’re free to go,” Cleo said. “Get cleaned up and make sure you rest before you go out tomorrow. It could be a long day. We’re going to Libran for the retrieval.”

Striker’s nose scrunched. “Sand, sand, and more sand.”