Lust (The Elite Seven #1)(2)

This storm wasn’t supposed to hit until tomorrow.

Rain instantly begins pouring in through the open window, soaking me and the leather interior of my new dodge charger. The selfish prick I am, it irritates me I’m even in this situation.

I should be getting ready for the house party on the other side of town.

Our dad was supposed to pick Robbie up, but once again, he had to work late. It wouldn’t be that bad if his office weren’t five blocks over.

Dick.

Most boys admired their father, but not me. Mine was a pretentious prick who hated that I chose to pursue a football scholarship instead of taking his money and following him into the world of finance.

He made it no secret that Robbie was his favourite kid, and hell, I didn’t blame him. Just because we’re related, there are no rules that say we can’t clash—and clash we do.

An officer approaches my window wearing plastic overalls that do nothing to prevent the fierce winds from blowing the rain sideways into his face. Poor bastard.

“You’ll need to turn around, sir,” he instructs, and irritation grinds my bones.

I can practically see the building through the gathering of magnolia trees lining the opposite side of the road.

Inhaling a frustrated breath, I look to the grass border on my side, then nod to the officer. “Fine”

I watch him walk away in my wing mirror, making his way to a car pulling up behind me, no doubt giving them the same instructions to turn around.

Fuck it. I’ll have to jog the rest of the way and get wet.

Pulling my car over to the side of the road, I jump out and immediately regret my choice of not wearing a coat today. My boots slap on the asphalt that’s becoming more like a river than a road.

The officer jogs back toward me, hurried and pissed off, pointing at my car.

“You can’t leave your car there,” he shouts, shaking his head.

I look past him to an ambulance stopping by two police cars parked at an odd angle in the road. Squinting my eyes, I make out a truck just beyond them. Looks like it collided with a tree.

I can only see the back end and don’t recognize the licence plate, thank fuck.

“I just need to run over and pick my brother up from his karate class. I’m late, and he’s only twelve, sir,” I say, trying to appeal to his humanity.

Rain makes it hard to speak. It’s pouring over me, drenching my clothes. Without a jacket on, my shirt becomes a second skin, slick and stuck to me like glue. My jeans become heavy, and a frigid whisper skitters up my spine as Mother Nature breathes down my neck.

I hate the sploshing of my boots as I take a step forward, pushing a hand through my hair to remove it from my eyes.

Leaves rip from the trees and dance to the tune of the wind picking up speed.

The officer has gone silent. He looks through the trees to where I gesture, then back to the sight of the incident.

Sirens blast through the quiet night, and my eyes scan the road as a fire engine approaches.

I nod over to the accident. “That bad, huh?” I wince, folding my arms to ward off some of the chill cutting through me.

“What’s your brother’s name?” he asks, pulling me from being a nosey bastard trying to get a look around him at the damage.

Seeing a guy sitting in the back of one of the cop cars wrapped in a blanket, I ask, “That the driver? He okay?”

“What’s your brother’s name, son.” He turns his head to hear me better, ignoring my question.

Shit. Robbie has to be freaking out. He’s a sensitive kid and it’s getting dark. I really need to go.

“Robbie, and he’s going to be really worried. He was expecting my mother an hour ago,” I confess, my shoulders jerking with guilt.

I’m a piece of shit. My mother asked me to go get him because she was caught up with something and Dad dropped the working late shit on her.

She made me promise not to forget or be late, and I was too busy getting head from the captain of the cheerleader squad. Such an asshole.

I’d been trying to get her on my list since I started at that school, and she’d held out—until today. She’s a bad bitch too. Deep throats like a pro.

Filthy and fucking thirsty for dick, she exceeded all my expectations.

“And you said he’s eleven?” the officer continues, bringing me back from the memory of her lips around me.

“Twelve,” I correct with a frustrated grunt.

Dude, I don’t have time for this. Fuck, I hope he’s not thinking we neglected him or some shit. Mom’s going to have my balls for this.

“You have a picture of him?”

“What, why?”

What the hell? Why the fuck would he want a picture?

Firefighters pour onto the scene, their voices are raised to be heard over the torrent making their job twice as hard.

I strain to listen, and a rock forms in my gut at their words.

“He’s pinned from the chest down. As soon as we separate the truck, he’s going to drop. We need to secure his body.”

Damn, that sounds brutal.

“I need to go. I promise I’ll be quick,” I shout to the officer as I take off jogging. He calls out to me, but I’ve wasted enough time.

Going around the fire truck, I cut through the trees. The wind howls, tossing the branches around violently. They whip me across the face, scraping holes into my flesh. My feet sink into the ground with each determined step, submerging me in more than one puddle, flooding my boots.