Race with Danger (Run for Your Life Book 1) Read Free Page B

bottom.”
    “No shit again. That’s why my line goes west there—to account for the float downstream. You can swim, can’t you?”
    He ignores my question and asks, “How long do you plan to carry the extra gear?”
    “It’s only about four pounds each. We’ll carry it as long as we need it.” We both know that every pound could slow us down, but once you leave anything behind, you can’t go back and get it. An endurance race is sort of like a video game that way.
    “They said to avoid the water.”
    He’s talking about the vid we all had to watch yesterday about the potential dangers on Verde Island. I was so busy fighting jet lag that I didn’t pay a lot of attention. I remember a mention of a lone female tiger, which—being me—I thought was terribly sad. Oh, and a remark about pythons. “They said it was best to avoid swamps . This is a river.”
    He licks his lips and takes a sip of his own smoothie before saying, “We could die.”
    I lock eyes with him. His are not solid green. Little burnt orange and gold flecks accent his irises. In my imagination, I see other eyes, the scorching black-coffee irises of Shadow’s jealous glare, and the bottomless amber wells of my friend Bailey.
    I have to get that mil for him. I can’t bear to think of any other outcome.
    “We could win,” I tell Sebastian.
    “Sir.” This interruption comes from one of the two suits standing against the wall behind Sebastian. I’d almost forgotten they were in the room with us. It’s eerie how still they can be, like they’re robots instead of people.
    Sebastian’s head swivels toward the speaker. “Shut up.”
    “The threat,” the robot guy says.
    “I said, shut up.” Sebastian practically spits at the guy.
    “What threat?” I ask the robots, turning in my chair to look at each of them.
    Neither of them even glances at me. This threat better not be anything that’s going to slow us down.
    “Nothing worth talking about,” Sebastian growls.
    I frown. “How is this going to work?” I jerk my chin toward the robots. “They can’t possibly keep up with us. And no assistance, or we’ll be disqualified.”
    Sebastian sighs heavily and uses his fork to move his food around his plate.
    “We use a dedicated drone,” the speaking robot interjects from over by the wall.
    Crapola . The whole race is going to be filmed from overhead by camera-carrying drones. Team Seven is also going to be tracked by another damn eye in the sky?
    “Why?” I squeak. “We’ll already be on camera.”
    “Our drone will replace your vid drone,” says the Secret Service guy. His eyes flick toward mine, but only for a second. “It’s for your protection.”
    So Team Seven won’t be filmed? “Does this mean I don’t have to pee in the bushes?”
    The corner of the guy’s mouth twitches. “Our security drone will have cameras like the rest of the drones.”
    Sebastian rolls his eyes. “They”—he tilts his head in the direction of the guards standing along the wall—“will approve the film before handing it over. There will be weapons on board our drone, too.”
    Crapola again. I cannot believe this. If our drone shoots something along the way, Team Seven will be disqualified. I study the tablecloth. I think about backing out of the race. Then I think about Bailey and the trouble he’s in. And how, even if he doesn’t understand it, his whole future depends on me.
    Sebastian’s hand lands on top of mine. It feels hot and heavy. Is this a gesture of friendship, or an attempt to intimidate me? The President’s Son holds my gaze for about ten seconds—I count them off in my head—as we try to decide if we can trust each other. His eyes flick toward the map between us. Then he gives in, sort of, saying, “I choose the next segment.”
    “Maybe.” I pull my hand back from beneath his. “Assuming we survive.”
    He places his palm flat on the edge of the map and studies my proposed course for a minute. Finally, he nods. He