“Ex-boyfriend maybe?” I offered. “She has plenty of those.”
“I didn’t ask.” Ironside shrugged. “Since you’re acting President, that falls under your job description, not mine.”
I groaned.
“Come on, man. Throw me a bone here.”
He chuckled and gunned the engine of his bike.
“Good luck, brother. You’re gonna need it.”
Chapter four
Lila
Even though I was exhausted, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to my apartment. It would be too empty, too quiet. And my mind wouldn’t shut up enough to fall asleep anyway. I had to figure out this mess with Sweeney first.
I knew I needed the Reckless Order to back me up. There was no getting around that. It was bad enough that I had to swallow my pride and ask for help in the first place. But now, it was a thousand times worse, knowing that Pretty Boy would be the one I had to appeal to.
God, I could just imagine the shit-eating grin on his face when I told him everything. The way he would hold it over my head. The way he would rub it in for the rest of my life. I could practically hear his voice already.
Well, well, well. It looks like hell has finally frozen over if you’re asking me for help.
I made a noise of disgust as I parked in the driveway of my dad’s house. Marching up the steps, I used my spare key tounlock the front door and dumped my purse on the kitchen table with a sigh.
Rubbing my temples, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the counter. The comforting, earthy scent of Dad’s favorite cigars lingered faintly in the air, mingling with whiskey and barbecue.
Even though I moved out and got my own apartment years ago, I still loved visiting Dad’s house. It was like being wrapped up in his hugs—warm, masculine, and smelling just like him.
I raided the fridge for a beer, sorting through containers of leftovers and takeout, tossing the old, sour stuff. When Dad got back from the hospital, I didn’t want him worrying about anything—no dishes, no groceries, no bills.
After cleaning and organizing the fridge, I moved onto the freezer. Then I started working on the kitchen, scrubbing the dishes in the sink, emptying the trash.
I was so wrapped up in what I was doing that I didn’t hear the rumble of the motorcycle in the driveway, or the footsteps on the porch.
Then Pretty Boy cleared his throat and rapped his knuckles against the door frame as he entered the house.
“Knock, knock, is anybody home?”
I practically jumped ten feet in the air with surprise.
“Damn it, Pretty Boy! Don’t sneak up on me like that. Did you follow me?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“I wasn’t aware I was sneaking anywhere. Besides, you’re always saying that I sound like a pack of elephants. Shouldn’t you appreciate it that I’m walking a little lightfooted?”
I huffed and waved the soapy sponge at him, flicking suds in his direction.
“Don’t be a smartass. I’m not in the mood.”
“I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but smartass is the only setting I operate on.”
“There has to be a shut up button somewhere,” I replied. “And you still haven’t answered my question. You followed me, didn’t you?”
He hedged with a shrug.
“I…might have taken the same road that you did. But that’s not a crime. Why are you washing dishes at your dad’s house, Lila? You should go home. Get some sleep. You’ve had one hell of a long day.”
