A Clean Getaway
The Switchman
As the soapy water rained down and the big blue brushes rolled over the car, the Switchman’s gut puckered with guilt and disgrace, shame and self-loathing, terror and regret. He’d wanted to see where this new bold course would take him, but if they got caught it would take him to jail—the last place he wanted to go.
Last week when Grant had looked him in the eye, flashed that arrogant grin, and asked whether he, too, thought Serena’s appendix scar was oddly sexy, something inside him had snapped. That bastard had defiled the woman he loved. The woman he thought loved him back. For that he must suffer.
Only Grant hadn’t suffered. Instead, he’d jerked his head back before the Switchman could land a single punch. The Switchman had never felt so furious, so betrayed, so frustrated and powerless.
Sure, he’d wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t the pushover everyone thought him to be, that he could be wild and reckless and tough and dangerous. But as he sat trapped in the stolen foam-covered car, listening to the sound of the sirens as the cops pulled into the parking lot, he wished he could go back in time and undo everything he’d done today.
It had all been a mistake. A horrible, stupid mistake.
And now all three of them would have to face the music.
Or would they?