Smyrna moved her link sausage from one side of the plate to the other. She made swirly patterns in the egg yolks of her over easy entrée.

Razor watched the television above her head and wolfed down his food.

She ignored the white noise of late night infomercials. “I don’t know how you can eat this shit,” she grumbled. Wincing as the snottiness of her way-too-over-easy egg whites slimed all over the yolks. “I asked for over-medium.”

“Keep your voice down. You’ll offend Branson.”

“And?” She mock-shivered in fear. “He’ll what, spank me?”

“Yeah, I’d bet you’d like that.” A booming voice came from behind her. “You don’t like the cooking?”

Smyrna glanced over her shoulder. “It’s cool, Bran. It is.”

Branson, former military guy, friend of Razor’s, definitely didn’t look like he’d be cooking at a twenty-four-hour café.

“She’s got a lot on her mind,” Razor said without looking away from the TV.

“Did you get fired?” Branson moved out from behind the counter and closer to them. “I told you a year ago, just because the laws allow anyone to bounty hunt didn’t mean that everyone should. Or could.” He crossed his arms over a massive muscle shirt, his normally olive complexion reddened by the heat in the kitchen.

“I didn’t plan to make a career of it.” Smyrna pushed her plate away.

“Told you to let Razor take care of him,” Branson insisted. “Told you this was right up his alley.”

“I’m not letting him risk his life for this. If he were caught…”

Razor whistled low under his breath.

Branson looked up at the screen. His eyes lit up. “Mhm.”

With a frown, Smyrna turned to see what they were looking at.

A light-haired woman, yes, indubitably attractive, was sitting on a couch, interviewing a woman.

Probably selling some sort of makeup. Or lotion to make your neck skin look younger. Or—

Then a banner flashing across the bottom caught her eye.

What the hell?

She glanced at Razor.

He nodded.

That’s why he’d whistled. She glanced back at the woman. Or it could have been her. She was damned stunning. Smyrna turned to look at Razor, a brow raised.

He scoffed. “Think I’m that shallow?”

“You saying your head isn’t turned by a pretty face?”

He let out a quiet breath. “If it were, we wouldn’t be best friends. We’d be knocking boots.”

“No one says that anymore, Ray-Ray.”

“It’s making a comeback, and quit calling me—”

She smacked him on the shoulder and turned her attention to the screen, calling out to Branson, “Turn it up, would ya?”

A commercial was on. “Really? Who interrupts an infomercial with a commercial?”

Branson laughed and pointed the remote. The interviewer’s voice grew louder as the infomercial returned.

The attractive, light-haired interviewer was now talking to a man who’d joined them.

The man said, “Thank you for sticking with us.” He pointed to the woman doing the interviewing. “Messina Argyle is a successful business woman, entrepreneur, founder of Boundless and Borderless Love, TV personality, and now the face of Operation Outreach.”

Messina nodded. “Thank you, Chris. I’m here today interviewing our first applicant for Operation Outreach,” she waved toward the woman smiling at the camera, looking more or less like a deer caught in the headlights.

Messina put her hand on the woman’s knee. “This is Emily’s first time on camera.”

The camera closed in on Emily. She chewed her lip and nodded. “I’m excited to go to Janus. To meet my… Boron.”

“Her what?” Smyrna muttered under her breath.

The camera pulled back and the man appeared back on screen. “So back to you, Messina Argyle.” His teeth gleamed, unnaturally white.

Television talk-show white, Smyrna liked to call that color.

Messina nodded, tucking her hair behind one ear in a practiced gesture. “So, we are looking for more candidates for the Operation Outreach Program. Please fill in the application online.”

The website streamed across the bottom of the screen.

Another brilliant smile from Messina.

“She sure is one fine looking woman,” Branson commented.

“Thanks, why don’t you sign up to be a judge for the Miss Galaxy competition, next time.” Smyrna gave him a tight smile.

“Someone’s uptight.”

Smyrna ignored him and turned back to the show.

“We’re taking applications for candidates who would like to see another planet and meet their soul mate.”

Get the fuck out, Smyrna bit her tongue, but her mind was already on the possibilities.

“All you have to do is charm them, and convince them you’re looking for an extraterrestrial soul mate.” Razor used his toast to slop up the last of the egg yolks and runny whites mixture on her plate. He’d cleaned it, after finishing his own.

“Charm them?” Branson snorted. “She’s so screwed.”

Razor snorted.

“What?” Smyrna scowled at Branson and then Razor. “I can be charming.”

More laughter from both.

“Bastards.” Smyrna rose from the table and paced the otherwise empty café.