“Which you never did,” I added, still gripping Kyle by his shirt.
“He was a rookie at the same time as me. You all called him Rookie Number Two. He was the good one.”
With a frown, I glanced over my shoulder at Carter. He lifted an eyebrow at me as if to say,“I don’t remember him, either.”
“Keep talking,” I ordered.
“I’ve said enoug—”
I clamped both of my hands around his neck and squeezed. “Did you think we walked up in here to play games with you?” I seethed. “I will choke the shit out of you and hide your fucking body.”
“I’ll help him hide it,” Carter added. “You don’t want to know what shit I’m capable of.”
“Keep talking, or your ass has a one-way ticket to hell with gasoline draws on,” I said firmly.
“Benjamin. He’s the one that started all those fires. I just—”
“Just what?” I shook Kyle again, like a ragdoll, by his shirt.
“I helped get him some information he needed.”
“Why would you do that?” Carter asked.
“And what type of information?” I insisted.
“Names and addresses of some of the Rescue Four squad.”
“He asked you why?” I demanded, reiterating Carter’s question.
He looked between Carter and me, fear glowing in his eyes. “I never wanted to work for the fucking fire department. I hated the idea. But growing up a fucking Rogers, it’s what everyone in my family expected of me, even when my mother died. My uncle insisted I become a firefighter.”
“Boo- fucking-hoo.”
“Easy for you to say.” He glared at me through narrowed lenses. “No one ever forced a career on you. Even when you kicked and screamed and told them that you didn’t want the job. No one demanded that you shut the hell up and keep running laps and doing workouts at six a.m. while you were still in high school so that you’d be ready for the fucking academy.”
“Cry me a damn river, you little shit,” I barked. “No one gives a fuck about your sob story. Why the fuck is Benjamin after us, and where the hell is he?”
“Because you all were assholes to him. He hated the fire department almost as much as I did.”
“Why?”
“You all laughed at him,” Kyle said.
“What?” Carter and I asked at the same time.
“He hated it—the jokes you all used to play on us. One day, one of you had changed out our shoes or something stupid, and he went berserk. He tore up his locker. I found him steaming mad in the bathroom.”
“So, he’s a pussy who can’t handle a few pranks?” I asked. “Bullshit.”
“It’s more than that,” Kyle said. “He took it personally, but he never told me what made him so angry about it. Maybe he was picked on as a kid or something.”
He shrugged.
“Where is he now?”
“I-I don’t know. I swear. He hasn’t called me in a while, and I don’t have his number or anything.”
“Are you fucking lying to me?” I snarled, pulling Kyle by his shirt until our noses almost touched.
