I closed my eyes and bowed my head. Dad was usually so diligent with his vices. He never did anything to excess. He claimed it was part of being President, that he couldn’t afford to slip up when his club needed him to be strong around the clock.
As a result, he was never drunk and he never gambled more than whatever spare change he had in his pocket at the time.
But three hundred thousand dollars of gambling debt was far more than pocket money.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Pretty Boy said. “Why would he do that? Prez doesn’t even bet more than twenty bucks at poker. How did he end up that deep in the hole? And why would he go to Sweeney for cash? If he kept it in the club, we would have happily loaned him the money.”
“That’s exactly the issue,” Ironside replied. “He wouldn’t put that kind of debt on the club. It was his mistake, his problem. He already felt like he was slowing us down as he got older. Do you really think he would bum a few grand off any of us?”
“No,” I relented in a rough voice. “He’s too stubborn for that.”
A beat of silence filled the air as none of us spoke, letting the reality of the moment sink in.
“Dad’s heart is under too much stress already,” I said at last, breaking the silence. “This could kill him.”
“Agreed,” Ironside replied grimly. “How much time does Hillbilly have to pay back the loan?”
“Forty-eight hours,” I said.
He swore softly. Pretty Boy met my gaze across the table.
“Did Sweeney say what he would do if he didn’t get his money?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek.
“Not exactly, but it’s the mafia. It won’t be a slap on the wrist.”
Pretty Boy’s eyes darkened and his pupils narrowed, like a wolf locked onto its prey.
“What did he say, Lila?”
I sighed, pressing my lips together.
Be a good girl and get me my money, or I’ll have to hurt that pretty, perfect body of yours.
Telling Ironside and Pretty Boy any of that would go over like a lead brick.
“If Dad can’t pay off his debt,” I said. “It falls to me. That was part of their agreement. And Sweeney didn’t get specific, but if he doesn’t get cash, he’ll take blood instead. And then he'll squeeze my mom and my stepsisters for the money."
“Well, that’s a threat if I ever heard one,” Ironside said in a dry tone.
“I want protection for Lila,” Pretty Boy said immediately.
“Done,” Ironside replied.
“Absolutely not,” I protested. “No one is babysitting me. Look.”
I grabbed my purse from the counter and pulled out the pistol my father gave me for my eighteenth birthday.
“I can shoot just as well as any of you on the firing range, and you know it,” I said.
“Not the point,” Ironside put in.
“I’m with Ironside on this one,” Pretty Boy said. “That means you’re outvoted.”
I jutted my chin out and jammed my purse on the table.
“I’m not some princess that you lock away in a tower.”
