Renegade Runner by Nicole Conway (e books free to read txt) 📕

Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet his again. “I have three conditions.”

Now even Phox looked surprised.

Rout’s smile was as wistfully amused as it was cunning. “Oh? Do tell.”

“First, we don’t work for you. You work for us. I want that understood. I’m assuming that being legal citizens means you don’t own us anymore, so you don’t give us orders, got it?”

Rout’s expression deflated somewhat, his gaze steeling slightly, as though I might be more of an adversary than he’d originally anticipated. “And?”

“And you’re required to give us forty percent of our winnings, but I want sixty. We’re the ones risking our lives. I almost died about twenty times. Phox did actually die. So we get sixty percent.”

His lips pursed unhappily. Clearly, I’d struck a nerve with that one.

Too bad I wasn’t finished yet.

“Lastly, there’s … something I want you to do for me. Let’s call it a gesture of your incredible goodwill.” I held my ground despite the pale look of disbelief Phox was sending me out of the corner of my eye. Uh-oh. Was I pushing my luck with this? Tough.

Rout shifted uncomfortably. I wondered if he was regretting his decision to try to hire us on as his professional runner team yet. “Name it,” he murmured sourly.

I took in a quick breath, flicking a quick glance at Phox before I continued. “There’s someone I want you to find for me. She’s an Ichetharys named Enola. If you want me to race for you, then you have to find her … and help her get a citizenship license, too.”

38

BATTLE DRESS

“I told you I’m not wearing that! No! I mean it!”

The alien assistant Rout had sent to help us get ready for the award ceremony fluttered back, chittering angrily through insect-like mandibles as it held up an almost completely sheer gown of green and gold. No. Way. It looked more like lingerie than a dress! Maybe I’d sold out to Rout and agreed to race for him, but I was not about to go strutting out there dressed like that. I still had some dignity left.

Granted, not a lot, but still!

The insectoid alien hummed away, fluttering on bright yellow wings to rummage through the rack of clothing Rout had sent for us. I couldn’t tell if the creature was male or female, mostly because its tiny, grasshopper-looking body didn’t give any hints or suggestions to its gender. For the most part, it didn’t even talk beyond making fussy, irritated chirping or chittering sounds as it returned … holding up a pair of matching shiny underwear. Obviously, whatever this thing was, it hadn’t been farmed by the Alzumarians because it didn’t even look remotely humanoid.

I scowled. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I am not a piece of meat. Why don’t I just save Rout the trouble of hocking me off like cattle and accept the award naked?”

The alien chittered unhappily again and crawled around me, adjusting my hair and applying makeup. Just the feel of its prickly legs on my skin made me scream internally. Ugh. I hated grasshoppers. And this one wasn’t winning any bonus points with me by trying to dress me in glorified undergarments. I shot it a glare as it fluttered away again.

We might be about to fight. What I wouldn’t have given for a rolled-up newspaper. Or a boot.

We’d only been on Rout’s ship for a few days. After leaving the medical facility, he had ferried us to his large and extravagantly lavish personal ship that hung close in orbit to Thermax. Sleek and streamlined, the Nautilus was a massive vessel that reminded me of a giant, high-end cruise ship. Its five glistening decks shone in arching curves of glass and polished metal, bristling with state-of-the-art integrated Alzumarian technology. My breath still caught at the sight of that pearly white spaceship, slender and pointed like an elongated spearhead, hanging elegantly against a field of stars. Sure, there were dozens of other ships nearby, but none of them compared. Not in beauty, anyway. Rout seemed rather proud of it, informing us promptly that it was a custom-built craft of his own design, and that was where we would be living and training between events.

While I knew those dozens of other huge ships were probably there for the same reason—catering to the other top placing and professional teams—so far, I hadn’t seen any of them. Not even Sienne, which was kind of a relief. I wasn’t looking forward to facing her again. Just the thought put my stomach in knots and I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I stood on the glass-dressing pedestal in Rout’s private dressing room.

My throat burned as I gazed into the large, floating constellation of silver cubes that gathered together, shifting and shimmering like a hovering mirage in the air. Dressed only in a short, silk-like robe, I shivered as my eyes roamed the numerous bruises still splotching my skin. I had deep purple lines across my chest, hips, and shoulders—all in the places where the harness had saved me from dying in our various crashes. I had a still-healing gash and painfully swollen goose egg on my forehead mostly hidden by my fluffy, dark gold bangs. The onboard medic had seemed certain the swelling would be gone by tomorrow, although I had my doubts about that. It looked like I was growing another head or something. My leg wound from where I’d been stabbed had almost healed up entirely, but the slice on my bicep was now patched with a flesh-toned bandage, making it almost invisible.

Overall, I was a complete mess. It didn’t matter what they dressed me in or how many products they scrubbed into my skin and hair. I still looked like death warmed over—even with the exotic addition of makeup to outline my green eyes and contour my heart-shaped face. The dark circles under my eyes still stood out like I hadn’t slept.

Because I hadn’t.

Not that Rout