Get Dirty Read Online Free Page B

Olaf.”
    As soon as Olaf eased the SUV away from the curb, her mom’s demeanor changed.
    “Do you want to explain to me,” she began, “how you thought it was a good idea to confess to a murder?”
    “Two murders,” Bree corrected, smiling sweetly as she pulled the seat belt across her body. “And I didn’t confess to them.”
    Her mom rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She pressed a button on the door and a minibar slid out from between the passenger seats. Crystal decanters of fluid, clear and dark brown, tinkled and sloshed with the movement of the car, but Bree’s mom poured a cocktail from a shaker into a martini glass without spillage. “Wretched place,” she said, dropping two olives into theglass. “I’ll have to burn this outfit when we get home.”
    Bree jabbed the tongue of the seat belt into the buckle. It refused to click into place, merely sliding out with each attempt. “Sorry to be so much trouble,” Bree said coldly, as she searched for an alternate buckle. “You’re welcome to go back to Nice or Cannes or wherever the hell you’ve been living.”
    “Villefranche-sur-Mer,” her mother said wistfully. “Didn’t you read the postcards I sent?”
    Not before dumping them in the trash. “Go back,” Bree said through clenched teeth. She tossed the seat belt away, annoyed by her futile attempts to get it secured. “I don’t need you.”
    Bree’s mom laughed. “Of course you don’t need me. I raised you so that you wouldn’t need anyone.”
    The word “raised” might have been a stretch, considering how little her mother had been around, especially since Henry Jr. went off to college.
    “But at the moment,” her mom continued, “someone has to be here to keep an eye on you. Apparently, parental custody means that either your father or I have to supervise your house arrest. And since the senator has oh-so-important policy to not be making in Sacramento, the job fell to me.”
    “Really feeling the love, Mom.”
    Her mom arched an expertly crafted brow. “Oh, like you’re so excited to spend the next few weeks holed up in the house with Olaf and me?”
    Bree blinked. “Olaf?”
    “Of course!” her mom cried, as if surprised by her daughter’s lack of vision. “I can’t be without my Olaf. Who’ll drive the car?Keep the press at bay? Administer my daily rub—”
    Before her mom could finish the word, the Escalade swung violently to the left. The back of the car whipped around, slamming Bree into the window. Olaf revved the engine; the tires screeched in protest, filling the backseat with the acrid smell of burning rubber, and the SUV spun in the other direction.
    Bree screamed, gripping the door handle for dear life as her body, unrestrained by the defective belt, was torn from her seat by the force of the maneuver. As the SUV fishtailed, she saw the cab of a bright yellow moving truck blow by, so close she could see the driver—baseball cap, dark aviators, and all.
    The truck careened on; horns blared from a half-dozen directions, and the SUV bounced fiercely as Olaf drove directly over the island in the middle of the roadway. Bree’s head smacked the ceiling, her mom let out a muffled yelp, then suddenly the engine noise returned to normal and the instant of chaos was over.
    Beside her, Bree’s mom gasped. “Oh my God.”
    Bree massaged the sore spot on the top of her head. “It’s okay,” she panted, trying to catch her breath. “I’m not hurt.”
    “Look at that!” Her mom held her martini glass out for Bree to see. “I didn’t spill a drop.” Then she lifted the glass to her lips and drained what remained of the cocktail.
    I’m so glad you have your priorities straight. “What the hell happened?”
    “Truck run red light,” Olaf said, his vowels open and round, hinting at Scandinavian roots.
    “Shouldn’t we go back?” Bree asked. “Call the police? File a report?That guy could be dangerous.”
    That guy could be a killer.
    Bree knew she was being