Catherine Coulter: Born To Be Wild

He marveled at her as she emptied a brand-new half-gallon carton of milk into a dozen glasses and handed out Oreos to the oil-coated, windblown, starving teenagers, all of whom appeared to know Mary Lisa, her kitchen, her bathroom, and her two televisions very well.

“Hey, you’re Mary Lisa’s cop, aren’t you?”

It was the teenage girl who’d helped him that day Mary Lisa was shot at on the beach. “Yeah, that’s me.”

A little milk mustache adorned her upper lip and she looked adorable with Oreo crumbs on her chin. She was also lovely enough to make a young man’s teeth ache to look at her, with her long streaked blond hair tousled and windblown, and an almost-but-not-quite thong covering a tad of her perfectly tanned butt. She said in a serious voice, her hand on his forearm, “My name’s Holly and I live four doors down. We all live around here. And I want you to know we’re keeping an eye on Mary Lisa. Nobody is going to shoot at her here again, that’s for sure.”

Jack put his hand on hers and said, “Thank you. I really appreciate that, Holly.”

He heard Mary Lisa laugh, let the sound settle deep into him, and knew he was right where he wanted to be. He supposed he might be living down here, maybe joining up with local law enforcement.

One of the teenagers turned on the TV and Jack wandered into the living room. He wanted to watch Elizabeth broadcast the news.

He heard a cell phone, heard Mary Lisa’s voice, then dead silence.

He couldn’t help it, he was on his feet and turning toward the kitchen when she walked out, still holding her cell phone open in her hand. If he didn’t know better he would have thought someone had whacked her on the head.

He was at her side in a moment, his hands on her shoulders, shaking her. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“Weirdest thing,” Mary Lisa said after a blank moment, looking up at him, “that was my mother.”

Soap operas are the most popular genre of television drama in the world today. No other form of television fiction has attracted more viewers in more countries over a longer period of time.

Mary Lisa was breathing in the wonderful aroma of her beef taco, loaded with the hottest sauce Tia’s Tacos served, waiting as long as possible to sink her teeth into that crunchy shell so she could make the whole experience last. She was also trying to wait until Jack got here with his own lunch, a Machu Picchu burrito that required more prep time. Last she saw him, he was hanging by the counter turned away from everyone, speaking on his cell phone, probably to Detective Vasquez. She closed her eyes a moment, hoping if she didn’t look at her very favorite food, all hot and crispy and not two feet from her mouth, she wouldn’t have it all chowed down by the time Jack got back to the car.

“You’re finally alone.”

A familiar voice. Mary Lisa opened her eyes and said, “Go away, Puker. Don’t forget the restraining order. I’ll call the cops, don’t think I won’t.”

“No reason for that,” he said as he opened the passenger door of the Mustang and slid into the seat beside her. “I saw your big bad cop inside, tied up on his cell phone looking real serious, and figured this was my chance. Let’s go, Mary Lisa. We haven’t got much time.”

She opened her eyes to see a nasty little pistol aimed at her, two inches from her chest. He saw the instant she realized what was happening, and chuckled.

“Yep, it’s me. Yours truly. Let’s go. You and I have lots of stuff to do and I don’t want your cop to see you leave.”

He shoved the pistol against her ribs. “Now, Mary Lisa, or I’ll have to shoot you right here, and all we’ll have are death photos of you I’m sure will move the world to tears.”

Her gun was in her purse lying by her left foot on the floor. She knew she couldn’t get it out of the purse fast enough. She considered laying on the horn. That would bring Jack running.

“No more stalling. Now, dammit, or you’re roadkill, Mary Lisa!”

He sounded like he meant it. She tossed her taco out the window, turned the key in the ignition, and backed out of the parking lot.

“Go right on PCH.”

She heard him draw a relieved breath when she turned onto the highway. It was unfortunate, but there weren’t any cars coming so she wasn’t able to delay for even an instant.

He’d been in her life for so long as a nuisance, as a two-faced weasel, nothing more than that. But now, he had a gun and things were different. He was different. He was deadly, and she knew that all the way to her soul. She realized something was very wrong with him, even more wrong than she’d imagined. And now he was planning to kill her? But why? “You gonna kill me, Puker?” she asked.

He smiled, looking happy as a clam, the wind blowing through his hair. “You’ll just have to sweat this one out, won’t you?”

“Where are we going, Puker?”

“Dammit, don’t call me that! I’m tired of your disrespecting me like that, Mary Lisa.” He shoved the gun hard against her arm. “It’s really not the time for it.”

It hurt, but she didn’t flinch or groan. She glanced over at him. “Give me one reason why I should respect you. For heaven’s sake, Puker, you’re holding a gun on me. You’ve shot at me, you tried to run me down!”

“It wasn’t anything personal, Mary Lisa,” he said. “I got some really nice photos from that car hit, made five grand on them. See, it was just business. Now, shut up and keep driving.”

“Where are we going?”

“Go past Pepperdine.”

Should she floor it? Crash her car, maybe draw a cop? Not here, not yet.

Pepperdine University stretched across the hill to her right. The beautiful Pacific and Amarillo Beach sprawled out to her left. They passed Puerco Beach.

“Hey, Mary Lisa, look here!”

She jerked her head toward him, fear and fury in her eyes, and she knew he saw it. He was grinning wildly as his camera clicked rapidly in burst mode, then quickly dropped it to his lap and brought his gun back up, this time shoving it against her neck.

“No, you aren’t going to do anything stupid or you’re dead.”

She trembled with rage, couldn’t help reaching out to claw his face, screaming at him, “You disgusting little creep!” He lurched against the door, out of the way of her nails. She jerked the car onto a narrow winding canyon road she knew dead-ended about a quarter of a mile upland. But she couldn’t wait for that. She jerked the Mustang off the gnarly asphalt through a ditch onto an empty stretch of level rocky ground and mashed down hard on the brakes, throwing both of them forward. The momentum sent her head slamming against the steering wheel.

Mary Lisa didn’t want to open her eyes, she really didn’t, because she knew somewhere deep inside that Puker was still there, but she had to. Thank God he hadn’t shot her. She jerked up, felt pain slice through her head and nearly passed out again. She felt wet on the side of her face and knew it was her blood.

“Hey, you coming back to reality, Mary Lisa? You were out of it a good two, three minutes. I got some good shots of you unconscious, face against the steering wheel, a trickle of blood snaking down to your neck. Real quality photos. Time to get yourself together now, Mary Lisa.”

For a moment, she didn’t understand. They were moving, she felt the wind on her face. Puker had shoved her over onto the passenger side. He was driving now. Thank God, he’d tossed her purse over onto the floor, at her feet. Thank you, God, thank you.

“Where are we?”

“Moseying up Coral Canyon Road. It’s nice and quiet up here. I picked it because of the great views and the interesting houses. They’ll be background. Hey, nice wheels. I’m glad I got some shots of you behind the wheel.” He tossed her a Kleenex from a packet she kept in the glove compartment. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that? That stunt you pulled-you could have killed both of us. You knocked yourself out. Wipe off your face. I want you perfect.”