“In revenge for you killing his father,” I spat back.
“Touché, Miss Evans. I suppose you subscribe to the Old Testament vengeance of an eye for an eye like your former boyfriend did.” When I didn’t answer him, he started a leisurely stroll around my desk, while his gaze roamed around. “You have a lovely classroom. In a way, it reminds me of your mother’s.”
My heartbeat shuddered to a stop and then restarted. “Excuse me?”
His eyes met mine. “I think you heard me right.”
“But how is it possible that you knew my mother?”
“You see this is where our small worlds collide. Once upon a time, your mother taught my son, Andy. It was second or third grade. I don’t remember exactly now.”
“Second. She only ever taught kindergarten and second,” I murmured softly.
“Ah, thank you for reminding me.” Sigel came to face me again. “Your mother was one hell of a nosy bitch. Instead of worrying about all the snot-nosed brats she had to teach, she focused on Andy. She couldn’t seem to believe that he got the bruises on his arms and legs from simply playing. She didn’t seem to understand that I subscribed to a very old-school form of discipline for my children. So she turned the case over to the local CPS. I couldn’t have them snooping around in my life, so we disappeared. We hopped from county to county, never going too far from my club.” His soulless blue eyes focused on mine. “One thing that could be said for your mother was that she had one hell of a memory. I thought I’d put enough time and space between the former charges when I moved back and Andy started high school.”
Slowly the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. “Was he one of my father’s students?”
“My, my, aren’t you smart. Yeah, he ended up having your old man. I guess over dinner or some shit, he started talking about how he was so worried about one of his students. And when he mentioned the name, your mother recognized it. That night I got a call from your father. He wanted answers and reminded me of the former case against me. My usual methods of persuasion didn’t seem to work on him, even when I threatened something happening to you.”
Closing my eyes, I couldn’t begin to imagine what that call was like for my father. Nothing mattered more to him in the world than his wife and kids. But at the same time, he had a passion deep within him to stand up for what was right, even if it meant the potential for those he loved to be hurt.
“In the end, I was fucking tired of being forced to run, so I decided to take a different course of action.”
His words caused a shiver to run from the top of my head down my spine. “But they died in a car accident,” I said lamely.
“Yes, they did. A car accident brought on by faulty brakes and an unmarked car that hit them, causing them to go off that ravine.”
My hand flew to my mouth to stop the scream building in my throat. The jumbled and jangled emotions filling my body made me feel like I was tied into a straitjacket and thrashing to get loose. It was overwhelming. The entire last ten years of my life were based on a lie. My parents hadn’t died in an accident. They’d been murdered. Their deaths had been coldly calculated by the piece of shit who stood in front of me.
“Thankfully, your father hadn’t flapped his gums to any of his coworkers, so no one knew that he had almost blown the lid on me, which would have affected my club. Of course, I hated that your kid brother was in the car. I never intended for you two to get hurt.”
Tears of anguish and rage stung my eyes. As I stared at Sigel, I wondered what possible motive or intention he had for telling me this. I was already a woman on the edge because of him. I was barely surviving after losing the man I loved. It was too much. Far too much.
“W-why would you t-tell me this?” I stammered, barely able to get the words out.
“Because you’re entitled to the truth. And because I hope it will influence you to do what I’m about to ask of you.”
With a mirthless laugh, I countered, “How could you possibly think after just telling me you murdered my parents that I’ll want to do anything for you?” This man had a very loose grip on his sanity. He was seriously delusional if he thought I could trust him.
“Because while you can’t bring your parents back, your cooperation allows for your brother to remain safe, along with Malloy’s kid.”
I sucked in a harsh breath. “You’re blackmailing me.”
Sigel lifted one shoulder apathetically. “If you want to call it that. I like to think of it as insurance, or even collateral. We’re both putting up something in good faith to ensure an outcome.”
“After all that you’ve done, how can I possibly trust you?”
“You’ll have to figure that out for yourself, Miss Evans.” Sigel placed both his palms down on my desk and leaned forward. “I know after what happened with Case and Deacon that there will be retaliation by the Raiders against my club. But before that happens, I want you to bring me something—something the Raiders took from me.”
“You want me to steal something?”
“It’s rightfully mine, Miss Evans. Or at least it was my son’s.”
Eyeing him curiously, I asked, “What is it?”
He pushed off my desk and began to pace the room. Something about the item agitated him. Finally, he turned back to me. “In the club world, a man’s cut is sacred. From the moment you’re patched in, it becomes your second skin. You sew on your own patches and care for the leather. You don’t ever abandon it somewhere for your brothers to teasingly take it or for your enemy to steal it.” Reaching in his own cut, Sigel produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I didn’t bother informing him that there was no smoking on school grounds.
After taking a long drag, Sigel’s eyes bored into mine. “Deacon Malloy didn’t just walk up to my son and shoot him. Nor did he take a knife to him. That cocksucker tortured him for a good two hours.”
If he had intended his words to have an effect on me, he got one. My stomach churned, and I had to fight against the urge to throw up. It was unfathomable to me that the Deacon I loved could do such a horrible thing to another person, even in revenge for his father’s death.
Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Sigel said, “Besides making my boy suffer through two hours of torture, he did the most disrespectful thing a fellow biker can do. He took Andy’s cut. That shoulda been something we buried him in, but Deacon took that from us.”