“Well,” Riley said, bracing herself as she loosened the last stubborn fastener, “I want a beach house in San Diego and a dog that doesn’t chew power cords. Seems like both of us are in the mood for miracles.”
Something finally gave with a sharp metallic crack.
“There,” she muttered.
She slid partway out from beneath the A-10 and held up the worn component she’d been fighting for twenty minutes. It was small enough to fit in one hand and annoying enough to ruin everyone’s day.
Dugan crouched beside her, scowling. “That looks ugly.”
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