The Switch Read Online Free Page A

He was tall and muscular—for a seventeen-year-old—and popular. He backed me up against the wall and placed his hands on either side of my head. He dipped his head and started kissing my neck. And while I thought all of this was exciting and fun and dangerous—things I very much liked and wanted—it was when he shoved his hand down my skirt that I freaked out and tried to push him away. He wouldn’t budge, and I found myself screaming and crying. Still, he wouldn’t move. He got so far, despite my trying to push him off, that he nearly penetrated me.
    Tears form in my eyes , and I start bawling, remembering that incident. It feels like a lifetime ago but was really only a few years back. I was so scared in that moment. So fearful that he was going to take what he wanted and it didn’t matter what I wanted. When my mother found out about the incident, she told me they were going to deal with the boy, but that was why nice girls don’t dress like that.
    I let myself cry for my teenage self, who felt so hurt and betrayed by that stupid, awful boy, not to mention my own mother.
    Officer Guilliot stares me down, his brows furrowed, his jaw clenched. He lets out a heavy sigh and reaches over, patting my arm. I let go and wail with reckless abandon , keeping up the crying jag for as long as I can. Minutes pass, and still the good officer remains silent, allowing me my time. Somewhere in the distance a phone rings. It’s not mine, though I’m vaguely aware that I do need to get into contact with Victor. I should have been at the warehouse already, and my not being there cannot bode well for Becca.
    Officer Guilliot rifles through his pocket and pulls out his ringing cellular phone. I steady my breaths, forcing myself to calm down. A hiccup escapes. The good officer’s eyes are trained on the phone in his hand. His face has fallen from the concerned do-gooder to the slapped -puppy look he’s now sporting. I close my eyes and imagine his girlfriend is calling and he’s upset because he caught her cheating on him last night after he professed his undying love to her. That would be lucky. But luck’s never been on my side.
    “ Sarge,” he says.
    My stomach drops.
     

CHAPTER 3
    Chase
    I am so fucked.
    “GUILLIOT,” SARGE GRUNTS in my ear.
    My sergeant is a middle-aged man with a bad comb-over, even badder breath, and the disposition of an ornery dog. He’s not a personable man, but he is a good cop from what I can tell. Then again, what the hell do I know? I’ve been under his command less than a week. Still, since I’m just barely starting out as one of New Orleans’ finest, I’ve committed myself to thinking the best of the man. Though I can’t help the mild panic that spreads through my veins at the sound of his voice.
    “You wanna explain to me why I’m standing in the Napoleon Sandwich Shoppe and watching a tape of your dumb ass running away from an armed man with a pretty brunette in tow?”
    “Well, sir, ain’t gonna lie. Don’t really want to explain it,” I say. Because, really, what the fuck else am I supposed to say?
    “Not an option, recruit,” he says.
    I look over to the teary-eyed brunette. Her big gray eyes are staring up at me, her narrow shoulders are hunched, and her nose is red. She looks innocent and terrified. But there’s something else behind her eyes that I can’t shake. No matter how pretty and small and scared she looks, there’s an edge to her eyes, to her movements that gives away more than she intends.
    I am so fucked.
    “Nothing to tell, Sarge. I was eating a po’ boy and this perp came running in with a gun. Pointed it at the girl’s head.”
    “And you ran her out of the shop?”
    “Yes, sir. She asked for help, and so I gave it to her,” I say as steady as I can.
    “Well, looks like Wilson owes me a twenty. I sure did call it, recruit. You are the dumbest of the bunch. Where are you now?”
    I take several deep breaths to control my temper. Being called out