Pretty Boy’s eyes darkened.
“What the hell? Why would he—?”
“I asked the exact same question,” I replied. “Sweeney wouldn’t tell me. Anddon’tgo pestering Dad about this. I want to get it cleared up before he checks himself out of the hospital.”
Pretty Boy scrubbed a hand over his mouth.
“That’s a lot of money, Lila.”
“I know. I don’t have it. And I’m pretty sure Dad doesn’t either.” I scratched at the label on my beer bottle with my thumb. “I…I was going to talk to the club about it.”
His eyebrows flicked up.
“I bet that was excruciating for you to admit, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I bit out through gritted teeth. “Don’t gloat. It’s not attractive.”
He hummed, dragging his thumb along his lower lip.
“So, you’re saying that Iamattractive otherwise.”
I grumbled and slouched in my chair, crossing my arms.
“You’re unbelievable. That’s what you’re taking away from this situation right now? This asshole is breathing down my dad’s neck if he doesn’t shell out a shit load of money he doesn’t have, and you’re preening over the fact that I called youattractive?”
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Your words, not mine.”
I groaned and pushed away from the table. Pretty Boy laughed and caught my wrist.
“Hold on, hold on,” he said. “Let me call Ironside. If anyone knows anything about this fucked up mess, it will be him, all right?”
I hated how my skin burned at his touch. I hated the way I could feel the heat of his fingertips, pressing against my pulse, warm and strong on the sensitive skin of my inner wrist.
One innocent touch like that should not have felt as erotic as it did.
I brushed him off and moved to the opposite side of the kitchen, putting distance between us. Pretty Boy pulled his phone from the pocket of his cut. Ironside picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, Ironside, you’re on speaker,” Pretty Boy replied. “Lila is here with me. We need to talk.”
“Oh, that can’t be good,” Ironside mumbled. “Go on. I’m listening.”
I leaned forward, bracing my hands on the table.
“Did you know Dad was in debt to Edgar Sweeney?”
A long pause echoed over the phone. I was almost beginning to think that the call had dropped off when Ironside finally heaved a sigh, swearing under his breath.
“I didn’t know. But I had a feeling he was having money trouble.”
That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear.
“Why? For what?”
Ironside took another minute or two as he deliberated his answer.
“Getting old sucks, Lila. Your dad was slowing down. He couldn’t keep up with the club anymore, and he knew that. So, he…he started gambling. It was a desperate grab to do something he was good at, something that didn’t require keeping up with younger men.”
