Page 14 of Engaging his Enemy
“Can I come in?”
The boy stepped back for him to enter. The room was a hodgepodge of decorations and toys, Moto’s eyes catching on them one at a time. A Lego spaceship. What appeared to be a real bowling pin. Textbooks. A large computer screen atop a glass L-shaped desk, and a wooden pocketknife on the edge. “Nice place you’ve got here.” He crossed to the desk and picked up the knife, his finger running along the familiar monogram as he grinned. “This was mine.”
“Keep it.”
He looked at the boy, seeing the hurt etched into his features. He put the knife back on the desk. “Can I sit down?”
Wyatt was standing, looking as uncomfortable as an innocent man on trial. “Suit yourself.”
An innocent man, trying to look strong.
He lowered himself into the desk chair. “I’m sorry I missed dinner. I was helping your uncle Ben.”
“My mom was angry.”
“I know. I apologized to her.”
Moto leaned forward and braced himself on his knees. “You have every right to be angry with me. For tonight and for all the nights I wasn’t here. Trust me, if I knew you existed, I would have been here.”
Wyatt didn’t respond. Moto waited patiently for the boy to talk, the stalemate stretching out awkwardly. Moto leaned back. “I’m going to be staying here for a little while. I’d like to get to know you.”
“My baby book’s right downstairs.”
Damn, the kid had a smart mouth, and Moto didn’t know if he should be offended or impressed. He stood. “You think about it. I’ll bet you’ve got some questions for me, too.”
“Just one.”
“Shoot.”
“When are you leaving?”
“I don’t know yet. But here’s the thing. You’re a part of my life now, whether that sounds good to you or not. Even when I walk out of this house, I’m not going to walk out of your life. We’re family, and family is forever.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know you.”
Moto pointed at him. “Yet. You don’t even know me yet.” He winked and smiled. “But you’re going to.” He held out his hand for Wyatt to shake it, knowing full well a hug was too much to ask. But as his hand hung in the air between them, he feared a handshake was a bad idea, too. It left the ball in Wyatt’s court, and he clearly had no desire to play this game.
Wyatt’s hand slowly came up to shake his father’s, and Moto’s heart rose into his throat, emotion nearly choking him. The baby pictures from the hallway flashed in his mind as he touched his son for the very first time, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, son.”
He thought of the boy’s tense shoulders, the distrustful look in his eye.
I’m going to win you over. You just wait and see.
9
Moto sat across from his brother in a diner straight out of the 1950s, the bright morning sun shining in an unwelcome beam across his face. He’d slept for shit last night, his warm and fuzzy thoughts of Wyatt dissolving into the ether as his mind dreamed of Davina sharing his childhood bed. Now, he was grouchy and unusually petulant. “She’s late. How many murder trials has she handled in her career?”
Ben pushed his plate of half-eaten eggs away. “A lot. She was an assistant district attorney in Houston for eight years.”
“Has she ever defended anyone?”
“I’m her first.”
Moto shook his head. He had to be joking. There was no way an inexperienced litigator could handle this case. “Can you get someone else? Someone with a track record?”
“I can’t afford a lawyer with a track record. Besides, she’s a friend.”
The waitress appeared and refilled their coffee before disappearing into the diner. Moto drank the scalding-hot liquid. “Then I’ll pay for it.”
