better for his reasoning, he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and went inside, quickly locating the HERO Force suite and knocking on the door.
Razorback opened it, glancing from one end of the hall to the other. “Where’s your brother?”
“He’ll be here soon.” At least, he sure as hell hoped so. He followed Razorback into a lush suite with a long polished conference table and a wide view of nighttime Houston. “Nice digs,” said Moto.
“We need the space. Sit down. Should we get started?”
“Not a lot to do until Ben and the lawyer get here. I already briefed you on the phone.”
“Any luck with the computer evidence?” Razorback asked.
“Not yet. This one isn’t going to be easy.”
Trace turned around from a small kitchenette. “You hungry? I got grinders.”
He was a good friend, possibly Moto’s closest on HERO Force. “Already ate, but thanks.”
Sloan Dvorak threw a grocery bag onto the table and withdrew a bag of Cheetos, tearing them open and popping a handful in his mouth. Brett Champion chuckled. “Everything okay with Joanne?” he asked Sloan, whose penchant for cheese-flavored snacks during heartache was infamous among the men.
Sloan lowered his heavy brow and held up a bright orange curl. “Sometimes, a Cheeto is just a Cheeto.”
Razorback grunted. “And sometimes it’s a desperate cry for help.”
Sloan looked from one man to the next. “Joanne’s fine. Great, actually. I’m madly, deeply, passionately in love.” Sloan was a joker, forever making light of every situation, and he’d always been popular with the ladies. The very idea of him settling down was difficult to imagine. But a recent mission had reunited him with his high-school girlfriend, and it seemed the relationship had stuck, an idea Moto found unnerving given his current situation with Davina.
“Good for you, meathead,” quipped Champion.
Now there was a man who would never settle down. Brett Champion didn’t just date a lot of different women. He was a player, a real son of a bitch where the ladies were concerned, and Moto was torn between admiring the hell out of him for his conquests and being somewhat concerned.
Razorback had no such ambivalence. He gave Champion the side-eye. “A real woman beats the hell out of those bimbos you date, asshole.”
“I love my bimbos.”
Moto pulled out a chair and sat, struck by the differences among them as far as women were concerned. They were each at their own stage in life, each with their own priorities. A week ago, he knew where he fit in. Now he felt like the floor beneath his feet was shaking. He was a father, for God’s sake, and that changed everything.
Trace came over from the kitchenette, his hands loaded with plates, a bag of sub rolls, and deli meat wrapped in paper. “I’m freaking starving.” He turned to Razorback. “Would it kill you to have snacks in the chopper?”
Razorback didn’t look up from the papers in front of him. “If you cleaned up after your goddamn self, you could eat wherever you wanted.”
Sloan grinned and bit down on a Cheeto. “He lets me eat in the chopper.”
Trace plopped down in his chair with a sigh. “If he didn’t, you’d never go anywhere, starting to show it, too—if you don’t mind me saying so. Turkey good with everybody?”
The men mumbled their agreement. Sloan looked at his abdomen with mock horror. “Five pounds, maybe ten.”
“Love will do that to you, man,” said Champion. “That’s why I stay clear of love. And Cheetos, for fuck’s sake. That shit’s not even food.”
Moto turned to Razorback. His new girlfriend had a kid not much younger than Wyatt. “How about you, Razorback? How’s Jackie?”
“She’s good. Glad to be back in the States. She’s turning an old house by the water into a bed-and-breakfast. It’s going to be amazing. And Selena loves her new school. Made a lot of friends already.”
Trace ripped open a sub roll with his hands and stuffed it with turkey. “Don’t worry. I just washed my hands.”
“I’m not worried. Cheetos are a natural antibiotic,” said Sloan, popping another into his mouth. “I’m gonna outlive all you motherfuckers.”
Moto shifted in his seat. “What’s it like having a kid all of a sudden?”
Razorback looked up, his sharp brown eyes seeming to see right through Moto. “Well, she’s not my daughter. Not yet, anyway, maybe someday. But it’s nice.” He shrugged. “She and Jackie were a package deal from day one.”
“Is it hard? You only had yourself to worry about for a long time. Then suddenly, bam, you’re a dad.