Meg Cabot - Boy Crazy! 1 She Went All the Way

Seven thousand and twenty-six.

Thats how many miles were on the speedometer of Lous treadmill back in LA. Seven thousand and twenty-six miles she had alternately walked and run in the past six years, since moving to the West Coast with only a BA in creative writing and a newly completed scriptthe first Copkillerto her name.

And Barry, of course. Shed had Barry, too.

Almost five hundred of those miles shed put on her treadmill just in the months since she and Barry had split up. She had had a lot of nervous energy to get out, and what better way than to pound it off on her treadmill while watching Judge Judy?

But that was different. Running in her own home, on a treadmill, in her Nikes, was completely different than running through the woods in two-inch heels, through yard-deep snow and in freezing temperatures, with a laptop and purse strung over her shoulders. Her feet werent the only things that felt as if they were going to burst. She was pretty sure her lungs were going to, too.

Wait, she gasped, grabbing onto the closest pine tree for support, and clinging to it as she tried to catch her breath. I... cant. I... cant... run... anymore.

Thankfully, lack looked as winded as she was. And he, as she well knew, was in top condition. It was in his contract, of course, that he had to be. Detective Pete Logan was many things, but out of shape was not one of them.

We... gotta... keep... going, he panted, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees. Come on, Lou. Theyre right behind us.

Were right behind us, she corrected him. Now that her breathing was growing more even, she strained her ears, but could hear nothing save the sound of their breathing. I think... I really think we might have lost them.

It would have been hard not to. With the sun all but gone from the sky, and the snow coming down more thickly than ever, it was difficult to see more than a few yards ahead of them as theyd run. Snow and trees. That was all Lou could see. Snow and trees.

And as they raced between those trees, Lou could not help thinking that they must have been as difficult to distinguish against the snow as the fallen logs and bracken they were forced to leap over in their mad dash for safety.

As if there were such a thing in this godforsaken place.

Listen, Lou said, reaching out to lay a hand on Jacks shoulder. Do you hear them?

They were silent for a moment. There was no soundno sound at all save the hiss of snow landing in their hair and on their shoulders. The snow and the wind, as it moved through the pines around them. It wasnt gale force yet, but it was a cold, strong wind. A wind that indicated, to Lou, at least, that things were going to get worse before they got better.

She could barely make out Jacks features. It wasnt yet nightfall, but what little sun there had been was gone, leaving only a dank gray sky overhead, growing ever darker as the minutes passed. Still, she had seen his face often enoughin dailies, on the big screen, and on her own television set, back in his STAT daysto tell by his expression that he, too, was listening for the whine of a snowmobile engine.

I dont hear anything, he said, finally.

Me neither, Lou said. Do you think we lost them?

Might have. He squinted at the snow that was rapidly filling the footprints theyd left behind... but not rapidly enough. Trees are kind of thick here. Be hard for them to follow, except on foot. And that. Well, that wouldnt be difficult, given the tracks weve left.

Lou let go of both the tree and his shoulder, and started looking around for a low-lying branch.

We can use it to wipe out our footprints, she explained to him. Like in A Simple Plan

Oh, sure, he said. So instead of following our tracks, they can follow the branch marks.

Lou felt something hot well up unpleasantly inside her. Much to her chagrin, it was tears, brought on by anger and fear.

Look, she said to him in a loud whisper. I could do without the sarcasm, okay? We wouldnt be here if it werent for you, so just try not to be such a jerk about all of this, okay?

Jerk? He straightened and eyed her. Whatd I do?

I dont know, she shot back, thankful that the cold wind provided her with plenty of excuse for why her eyes were watering. If he should happen to notice, that is. But something to get someone mad enough to kill you. Not just kill you, Townsend, but hunt you down like a dog. Now find a branch. Preferably one with the needles still on it.

Jack, much to her relief, said nothing more and began to look around for the branch shed requested. Lou was glad, since she could barely see, her eyes were so filled with tears. God, what had she ever done to deserve this? Stranded in the middle of nowhere with a prima donna movie star whod apparently never seen a single survival movie in his life. Shed be lucky to get out of here with just a few toes and fingers lost to frostbite. The way things were beginning to look, they would not survive the night.

At least, not unless they built an igloo. In Shoot to Kill, Sydney Poitier and Tom Berenger survived a night in a blizzard by burrowing under the snow and huddling together for warmth. In the movie, it had been a comical scene. In reality, the thought of huddling under the snow with Jack Townsend even for a few minutes made Lous skin feel strangely hot, despite the fact that she was convinced she was half frozen. There were millions of women in America to whom the thought of passing a night in an igloo with Jack Townsend might not seem like such a chore. Lou, however, was not one of them.

Dear God, she prayed. Let it not come to that.

And then, a second later, it appeared her prayer might have been answered.

Hey, Jack said, from a dozen yards away, where hed gone to look for branches. Cmere. Look at this.

Lou, thinking at first that hed spied more snowmobilers, nearly collapsed in the snow with an I give up already. But Jack wasnt looking in the direction from which the snowmobilers had come. Instead, he was squinting ahead of them, his eyes narrowed against the snow and wind.

What? Lou demanded, coming to his side and attempting to follow his gaze. But all she could see was trees. Trees, and snow, coming down harder than ever. I dont see anything.

There, he said, pointing straight ahead. Do you see that?

Lou shook her head. All I see is snow.

Not there, Jack Townsend said, and abruptly, he moved behind her, clapped two hands over her ears, and turned her head in the direction hed been peering. There.

Until Jack put his hands on her ears, Lou had not realized how cold they were. Her ears, that is. They were numb with cold, since she had no hat, only her thick red hair to protect them. Jacks warmth seemed to sear her through the leather of his gloves. She could feel a similar warmth emanating from him all down her back, though only his hands were touching her. Suddenly, the idea of staying the night with him in a hole dug into the snow didnt seem all that unappealing. Not if it meant she could have more of that warmth, all to herself.

Good God! What was she thinking? This was Jack Townsend. Jack Townsend, movie star, heir to Townsend Securities, actor. Actor, Lou. Actor. Which meant vain, incapable of loyalty, and as Vicky could attest only too well, terminally commitment-shy.

The alarm bells clanging full pitch, Lou ignored the welcome warmth flowing from those hands, and looked in the direction Jack was pointing her face.

And then she saw it. A rectangular shape, silhouetted black against the gray sky, stuck out against the treetops. She couldnt tell what it was. Not a house, surely, because it was in the air, not on the ground. But it was rectangular. There was no doubt about that. And rectangular meant man-made.