I’m quickly becoming irritated with his vagueness. “Why don’t you just tell me what it is that you want, Mr. Sims,” I say, emphasizing a title he will feel is disrespectful.
If it needles him, however, he hides it well. When he resumes speaking, it’s as though he’s embroiled in polite conversation with an old friend. “Kiefer Rogan is a man of secrets, secrets I’d be willing to bet he’s never shared with you.”
If he’s hoping to hurt me, it’s working.
“Everyone’s entitled to their secrets.”
“In any case, they’re not really entirely his secrets to share.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Did Rogan ever tell you how his father died?”
A lump of dread forms in the back of my throat, making me feel for a few seconds like I can’t breathe. I focus on drawing air in and out of my lungs slowly. Steadily. “No, but I think you already know that.”
“I do, but there’s no reason I can’t enjoy this.” His tone is smug and it sets my teeth on edge. But he’s got my attention, so I hold my tongue until he continues. “There was an unfortunate accident involving his younger brother. He had enlisted in the Army just before graduation. His father found out and tried to cripple him with a crowbar. Kurt hit him in the head with a baseball bat. Killed him instantly. Kiefer wasn’t willing to trust his brother’s future to the fickle legal system in this country, but he trusted his coach enough to tell him what had happened, to ask his advice. His coach came to me. He knew I could help, that I could make things . . . go away.”
My stomach feels like a ball of lead is sitting in the bottom of it. I know just how adept he is at making things go away. At letting criminals go free. “Why should I believe you? Why should I believe any of this?”
“Because that’s why Kiefer will do as I ask, no matter what. When I wanted him on a Special Forces team that my senate committee oversaw, he enlisted in the Army. When his brother was injured and discharged, Kiefer came home and went back into the ring to fight for me. He’s smart enough to know that I hold the keys to his brother’s past. And his future.”
This is too much information, too fast. “Wait, what? Rogan was in the Special Forces?” He’d mentioned the Army, but not Special Forces.
“He didn’t tell you that either?” He’s smiling. I can hear it. He’s enjoying torturing the girl who dared dump his son. He probably blames me for Calvin setting me on fire, like it’s somehow my fault his son is psychotic.
Obviously the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“No. He didn’t mention that.”
“Don’t feel too poorly. There’s not a lot he would even be permitted to tell you about, but pillow talk can be quite an effective . . . relaxant. If the partner is good enough.”
Another knock at me, as if to say that I wasn’t good enough in bed to worm all of Rogan’s secrets out of him. To hear this man, this disgusting monster of a man, degrade the beauty of what we shared makes me crazy.
“Why don’t you just get to the point?” I snap. “And why is it, exactly, that you think I’d care about helping Rogan?”
“It’s obvious you have strong feelings for him and he for you. Since you’re the problem, I knew you could be the solution as well. You see, if he continues moping around and postponing his fights, if he continues putting all his time and resources into investigating my son on your behalf, he’s liable to run into some very . . . significant and unexpected health problems. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
A threat. A viable threat. I of all people know how dangerous dealing with the Sims family can be.
“Yes, I understand.” My voice is cool. Hard even.
“Then you understand that if Rogan isn’t able to fight, he won’t be a benefit to me at all. I need a hearty-and-hale Rogan. Otherwise he and his brother will no longer be any of my concern. Nor will they be under my protection.”
My stomach lurches at the thought of what kind of atrocities this man is capable of.