Read Online Stepbrother Romance 2 - Consumed: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance by Tawny Taylor - Free Book Online
Authors: Tawny Taylor
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boomed, glittering lights illuminating the dark sky. Fireworks.
How ironic, those fireworks would probably pale in comparison to the ones that had just exploded out by the pond.
Chapter 8
The rumble sounded like the echo of fireworks. After a second flash lit up the room I was wide awake, sitting upright on the puny loveseat I now called home. I looked out the window.
That wasn’t fireworks. The party was over. Long over. It was thunder.
Crap, I hated storms.
I flopped back down and pulled a pillow over my head, hoping to drown out the banging and booming. Rain lashed the window. The wind howled like a wolf. And the pillow did absolutely nothing to muffle anything.
There was no hope for me. Between the storm blasting outside and the one in my head, because of that infuriating, confusing Kent, I wasn’t going to sleep. I went to the kitchen and poured myself another glass of wine.
The wind was really blowing now, so strongly I heard the trees outside bending to its unrelenting anger. A tad nervous, I peered out to the window and downed half the alcohol in my glass.
The big tree that stood next to the carriage house was taking the brunt of the blustering force, limbs waving madly, like the floppy arms of a ragdoll. In some respects I knew how that tree felt, being subjected to a force of nature so overpowering it was defenseless against it. That was how I felt whenever Kent was near. He made the strongest parts of me bend and break. I needed to get away from him.
Just as I was about to step away from the window, a massive gust slammed the tree. It was too much. One half of the tree split from the rest and tumbled down, down, down, crashing on the top of the carriage house.
The building quaked like a bomb had struck it. The deafening noise of wood and brick giving way thundered. Terror froze me for one long, bloated second.
Then I dropped my glass and dashed to the stairs. Mom and Dirk. Their bedroom was upstairs. I had to get to them. They had to be okay.
As I climbed the rubble-clogged staircase, rain pelted me, the drops pounding so hard they stung. Overhead, a jagged hole yawned, opening the house to the storm’s fury.
“Mom!” I screamed as loud as I could over the roar of the wind. “Mom!” My throat burned. My heart thumped. Where was she?
“Here! Here we are.”
Her voice was strong, thank God. She was alive. She was okay. I climbed over fractured tree limbs and busted drywall and lumber to get to their bedroom. The door wouldn’t budge. I pushed. I shoved. I kicked.
“Shayne,” she yelled from inside. “I can’t get the door. We’re trapped. And Dirk is hurt. Part of the roof fell on him.”
Panic raced through me, producing massive surges of adrenaline. There was no time to waste. I needed to get them out now! “I’ll get help,” I screamed.
Unable to move fast enough, I ran-slash-tumbled down the clogged stairway back to the living room, grabbed my cellphone with my trembling hands, and poked 9-1-1. As I was waiting for an answer, the front door flew open and in stomped Kent, soaked to the skin, eyes wide.
“Is everyone all right?” he yelled.
The dispatcher answered, and I pointed up, indicating to Kent that there was trouble upstairs. In the phone, I said, “We need help. A tree has fallen and my parents are stuck upstairs. One has been injured.”
Kent’s eyes went wider and within a blink he was out of sight, upstairs.
I rattled off our location while scrambling upstairs after Kent. I stopped before reaching the top because I was afraid the driving rain would shut down my cellphone, my lifeline to help. I watched, with my heart pounding in my throat, as Kent kicked at the blocked door with all his might. I watched the door splinter. And I watched him tear it to pieces with his bare hands. And before the sound of sirens reached my ears, I watched him help Mom and a limping Dirk climb through the hole he’d made in the door.
Kent Payne was a total asshole when
How ironic, those fireworks would probably pale in comparison to the ones that had just exploded out by the pond.
Chapter 8
The rumble sounded like the echo of fireworks. After a second flash lit up the room I was wide awake, sitting upright on the puny loveseat I now called home. I looked out the window.
That wasn’t fireworks. The party was over. Long over. It was thunder.
Crap, I hated storms.
I flopped back down and pulled a pillow over my head, hoping to drown out the banging and booming. Rain lashed the window. The wind howled like a wolf. And the pillow did absolutely nothing to muffle anything.
There was no hope for me. Between the storm blasting outside and the one in my head, because of that infuriating, confusing Kent, I wasn’t going to sleep. I went to the kitchen and poured myself another glass of wine.
The wind was really blowing now, so strongly I heard the trees outside bending to its unrelenting anger. A tad nervous, I peered out to the window and downed half the alcohol in my glass.
The big tree that stood next to the carriage house was taking the brunt of the blustering force, limbs waving madly, like the floppy arms of a ragdoll. In some respects I knew how that tree felt, being subjected to a force of nature so overpowering it was defenseless against it. That was how I felt whenever Kent was near. He made the strongest parts of me bend and break. I needed to get away from him.
Just as I was about to step away from the window, a massive gust slammed the tree. It was too much. One half of the tree split from the rest and tumbled down, down, down, crashing on the top of the carriage house.
The building quaked like a bomb had struck it. The deafening noise of wood and brick giving way thundered. Terror froze me for one long, bloated second.
Then I dropped my glass and dashed to the stairs. Mom and Dirk. Their bedroom was upstairs. I had to get to them. They had to be okay.
As I climbed the rubble-clogged staircase, rain pelted me, the drops pounding so hard they stung. Overhead, a jagged hole yawned, opening the house to the storm’s fury.
“Mom!” I screamed as loud as I could over the roar of the wind. “Mom!” My throat burned. My heart thumped. Where was she?
“Here! Here we are.”
Her voice was strong, thank God. She was alive. She was okay. I climbed over fractured tree limbs and busted drywall and lumber to get to their bedroom. The door wouldn’t budge. I pushed. I shoved. I kicked.
“Shayne,” she yelled from inside. “I can’t get the door. We’re trapped. And Dirk is hurt. Part of the roof fell on him.”
Panic raced through me, producing massive surges of adrenaline. There was no time to waste. I needed to get them out now! “I’ll get help,” I screamed.
Unable to move fast enough, I ran-slash-tumbled down the clogged stairway back to the living room, grabbed my cellphone with my trembling hands, and poked 9-1-1. As I was waiting for an answer, the front door flew open and in stomped Kent, soaked to the skin, eyes wide.
“Is everyone all right?” he yelled.
The dispatcher answered, and I pointed up, indicating to Kent that there was trouble upstairs. In the phone, I said, “We need help. A tree has fallen and my parents are stuck upstairs. One has been injured.”
Kent’s eyes went wider and within a blink he was out of sight, upstairs.
I rattled off our location while scrambling upstairs after Kent. I stopped before reaching the top because I was afraid the driving rain would shut down my cellphone, my lifeline to help. I watched, with my heart pounding in my throat, as Kent kicked at the blocked door with all his might. I watched the door splinter. And I watched him tear it to pieces with his bare hands. And before the sound of sirens reached my ears, I watched him help Mom and a limping Dirk climb through the hole he’d made in the door.
Kent Payne was a total asshole when
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