Racing Hearts (Shadow Quest 4.5) by Kiersten Fay

Priya stepped onto the solid metal
platform of the dismal spaceport. Musty, reused air flooded her
lungs, along with the scent of rust and sweat. Gripping her luggage
handle in one fist, she thanked the transport ship’s steward before
striding forward in search of her next destination.
    As she wound through a crowd of
roughnecks, she noticed a pattern of stains on the dark-green
bulkhead to her left, probably from a recent brawl. A good one by
the looks of it.
    The domed ceiling provided a murky view
of space. She squinted past the thick film of grime to see another
ship pulling in where hers had just departed. A few more ships were
lined up behind it, waiting to unload passengers.
    A masculine voice sounded from behind.
“Do you need a guide, sweetie?”
    She rolled her eyes and turned around,
keeping her right side angled away from him. Usually, that was the
side she wore her pulsar gun, but according to the rules of this
particular establishment, she was not allowed to keep a weapon on
her immediate person. She could, however, stow it in her bag for
easy access.
    In place of her security work belt
she’d tied a stylish strip of fabric over her brown tunic dress
with burgundy stripes that matched her hair.
    The man lowered his eyes to her bare
legs and black knee-high boots with obvious interest. His features
weren’t terrible, but he wouldn’t win any beauty contests. His nose
had clearly been broken more than once. His dark hair was a mess.
And when he peered back up at her face, he grinned, revealing a
full set of crooked teeth.
    Schooling her features, she replied,
“I’m looking for a ship—”
    “I got a ship,” he interrupted with
innuendo buried in the layers of his voice.
    An entourage of onlookers chortled.
With their matching stained uniform and equally unkempt hair, they
had the appearance of grunt workers.
    “A tiny one, no doubt,” she countered
and then smirked when his mouth fell into a petulant
frown.
    His friends guffawed and one slapped
him on the back. These weren’t bad men, just products of a hard
life and a serious lack of civilized influence. Not that she was
any better. She’d practically been raised in places like
this.
    “The craft I seek is about to be
entered in Phase Nine. I’ve been petitioned to join the
crew.”
    The laughing cut off and a round of
brows shot up. Their surprise was natural, not because she was a
woman entering the most dangerous competition in the known
universe.
    No. Even the most hardened of men would
have received incredulous looks. Few who enter Phase Nine would
live to see its finish. The race had few rules and spanned vast
distances of space. A ship without a good crew wouldn’t be expected
to last long at all.
    Ah, but she wasn’t joining just any
crew. She would be captained by a man who had not only run the race
before, but had won it. And she fully intended to be with him when
he did it again.
    Silently, two of the men pointed toward
a corridor while the others continued to gape.
    She nodded in thanks and headed toward
direction they’d indicated.
    After a few steps, the first man called
out, “Pray, tell me your name, beautiful lady, so I can cheer for
you.”
    Not bothering to look back, she replied
with a wave of her hand, “You’ll just have to watch the show.” It
was the thing people loved most about Phase Nine. Strategically
placed cameras throughout the race would provide entertainment to
over thirty planets and countless space cities. Every fifty years,
it became a universal obsession. People quit jobs just to
watch.
    The wide passageway was crowded with
people trying to get through, and she had to push her way into the
crowd. After getting knocked around by a few careless shoulders,
she found herself in a much larger room where vendors offered
supplies to a slew of stationed ships. She counted fifteen. The
high ceilings permitted them to be flown to loading dock at the far
end.
    The pungent odor of oil seeped into her
nostrils. Many