Chill Factor Read Online Free Page B

that together we can get me on my feet?”
    â€œTake all the time you need.”
    â€œTime is what we don’t have. Get behind me and put your hands under my arms.” She released him cautiously and, when she was certain that he could stay upright, moved behind him. “A backpack.”
    â€œYeah. So?”
    â€œThe awkward way you were lying, I thought your back was broken.”
    â€œI landed on the backpack. Probably saved me from a serious skull fracture.”
    She eased the straps of the pack off his shoulders so she could lend him better support. “Ready when you are.”
    â€œI think I can stand up,” he said. “You’re there to break my fall just in case I start falling backward. Okay?”
    â€œOkay.”
    He placed his hands on either side of his hips and levered himself up. Lilly did more than spot him should he fall. She made as great an effort as he, lifting him until he was standing and then supporting him until he said, “Thanks. I think I’m all right.”
    He reached beneath his coat, and when he withdrew his hand, he was holding a cell phone, which evidently had been clipped to his belt. He looked down at it and frowned. She read the curse word on his lips. He wasn’t getting service either. He motioned toward the wrecked car. “Is there anything in your car we should take back to your cabin?”
    Lilly looked at him with surprise. “You know about my cabin?”
    â€¢   •   •
    Scott Hamer clenched his teeth against the strain.
    â€œAlmost there, son. Come on. You can do it. One more.”
    Scott’s arms trembled with the effort. Veinsbulged to a grotesque extent. Sweat rolled off him and dripped from the weight bench onto the gym mat, making small splats against the rubber.
    â€œI can’t do one more,” he groaned.
    â€œYes you can. Give me a hundred and ten percent.”
    Wes Hamer’s voice echoed in the high school gymnasium. Except for them, the building was deserted. Everyone else had been allowed to go home more than an hour ago. Scott was required to stay, long after classes were dismissed, long after all the other athletes had gone through their after-school workouts as set out by their coach, Scott’s father, Wes.
    â€œI want to see maximum effort.”
    It felt to Scott like his blood vessels were on the verge of bursting. He blinked sweat from his eyes and expelled several puffs of breath through his mouth, spraying spittle. Tremors of overexertion seized his biceps and triceps. His chest seemed about to explode.
    But his dad wasn’t going to let him stop until he had pressed four hundred twenty-five pounds, more than double Scott’s body weight. Five reps had been the goal set for him today. His dad was big on setting goals. He was even bigger on achieving them.
    â€œStop screwing around, Scott,” Wes said impatiently.
    â€œI’m not.”
    â€œBreathe. Send the oxygen into those muscles. You can do this.”
    Scott inhaled deeply, then expelled the air inshort pants, demanding the impossible of his arm and chest muscles.
    â€œThat’s it!” his dad said. “You raised it another inch. Maybe two.”
    God, please let it be two.
    â€œGive me one more effort. One more push, Scott.”
    Involuntarily, a low growl issued out of his throat as he channeled all his strength into his quivering arms. But he got the weight bar up another inch, enough to lock his elbows for a millisecond before his dad reached over and guided it into the brackets.
    Scott’s arms dropped lifelessly to his sides. His shoulders slumped into the bench. His chest heaved in an attempt to regain his breath. His entire body trembled with fatigue.
    â€œGood job. Tomorrow we’ll try for six.” Wes passed him a towel before he turned away and moved toward his office, where the telephone had begun to ring. “You shower. I’ll get this, then start locking