One Good Crash - Sabrina Stark.pdf

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One Good Crash
A Novel
By Sabrina Stark
USA Today Bestselling Author
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Copyright © 2018 by Sabrina Stark
Chapter 1
Headlights.
Oh, shit.
I stood frozen in the narrow street for
what felt like forever. And yet, it was barely a split
second. I knew this, because even in my addled
state, I wasn't so stupid that I'd just stand around,
waiting to be flattened like a pancake in a party
dress.
And yet, here I was.
Tires squealed. Someone screamed. The
vehicle swerved, missing me, but just barely –
passing so close that it ruffled the fabric of my
overpriced outfit.
A pounding heartbeat later, the sound of metal
hitting metal echoed in the night. I whirled to look.
Oh, no.
I cringed, even as I tried to catch my breath.
In the flickering streetlights, I saw an exotic sports
car smashed up against a white delivery van – one
of three that were parked along the opposite curb
of the desolate city street.
The sports car's engine was still running, even
if the car itself was now motionless. Its headlights
were still on, illuminating the pavement ahead.
From somewhere behind the car's dark tinted
windows, its stereo was still playing, heavy metal if
I wasn't mistaken.
The side facing me – the driver's side – looked
absolutely pristine, with no damage whatsoever.
But the other side? The side I
couldn’t
see? Well, I
didn't even want to think about it.
With my heart in my throat, I plunged
forward, desperate to make sure they were okay.
I'd gotten barely two steps when a hand
clamped onto my elbow. I felt a yank and turned to
look. My mother was yelling again. "For God's
sake, Cassidy, get back in the limo!"
If I weren't so worried, I might've laughed in
her face.
Dream on, psycho.
But I
didn't
laugh, and I didn't say what I was
thinking. Worry aside, this was the woman who'd
given me life twenty-two years ago. Unfortunately,
this was
also
the woman who'd just suggested a
three-way with her latest sugar-daddy.
I shuddered with revulsion, even as she gave
my elbow another yank. "Come on!" she urged, as
if oblivious to the accident.
But even my mother couldn't be
that
clueless.
We'd caused that collision, plain and simple. And
besides, wasn't it against the law to leave the scene
of a crash?
I dug in my heels and refused to budge. "No."
My mother was petite and brunette, with
stunning cheekbones and full, pouty lips. She
looked barely thirty, even if she'd be forty-four next
July.
She was dressed to kill in a burgundy chiffon
cocktail dress and silver stiletto heels. The dress
was stylish and expensive with a short, flared skirt
and a neckline that plunged halfway to her navel.
She looked good, fabulous actually. But then again,
she always did, even now, when she was giving me
that look – the one she
always
gave just before she
popped.
But so what? She could pop all she wanted.
There was no way on Earth I'd be getting back
inside that limo – and not only because of the
accident.
After all, I'd fled that thing for a reason.
"Forget it," I told her. "I'm not going
anywhere."
Yes, it was a stupid thing to say. After all, I
had to go
somewhere.
We weren't in the best part of
town, and in my current outfit, I wouldn't exactly
blend. Hell, I'd probably be robbed – or worse –
within five minutes, ten tops.
The sad thing was, I had nothing worth
stealing, even if my appearance suggested
otherwise.
Still, I stiffened my spine and waited for the
fireworks.
But for once, my mom
didn't
pop. Instead, she
took a deep, calming breath and summoned up a
fake smile. "Oh, come on," she said, "be

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