For the First Time. Stephanie Doyle

knew everything, when all he had was facts from his internet search. Trying, but failing, to be apologetic for invading her privacy. It made her want to punch him in his smug face.

      It made her want to cry, just to watch him squirm.

      “You don’t know shit about it. All you know is what you read. You don’t know what happened to me. To my family. Nobody does.”

      “Then tell me.”

      “Why would I do that? I don’t know you.”

      “But I want to know you.”

      Her eyes widened.

      “I meant for professional reasons,” he said quickly. “I need you. I need someone to watch my daughter because she won’t let me. You have to be someone I can trust and that trust has to be built instantly. I agree that sometimes facts aren’t enough. So tell me what really happened.”

      “Telling you about my family tragedy will build trust?”

      “Telling me about what happened between you and your father might.” Mark’s expression was dour. “Okay, fine, it also might help give me some insight into Sophie. Figure out how I can change us. Fix us.”

      JoJo smiled sadly. “Trust me when I tell you there is nothing about what happened between me and my father that will help you to fix anything. You might say my dad and I are...permanently broken.”

      “It was that bad?”

      “It was worse.”

      “I don’t want to break things with Sophie. I really don’t.”

      “Then you won’t. The problem my dad and I had—and eventually my mom and I—wasn’t the result of what I did. It was because of them. A kid can try to let go and parents can refuse to allow it. But if parents let go, there is nothing for the kid to do but walk away. As long as you refuse to let her go, it doesn’t matter how angry Sophie gets or how snarky or how combative. That bond will still be there.”

      She could see him absorbing her words. Understanding what it said about her own family. What it meant.

      “They had already lost one daughter. How could they let you go?”

      “I spent a lot of time taking psychology courses to figure out that very thing. The truth is, murder is destructive and it has many victims. And I was not...easy.”

      “I really am sorry.”

      JoJo didn’t reply. It was such a useless phrase. One that people felt obligated to offer. It didn’t fix anything. It didn’t change anything. It only made a person say, “Thank you.” Thank you for what?

      “I’ll need a list of everyone you suspect might have written this note. I’ll also want a list of anyone involved in any case you’ve solved since your return to the States. I imagine you can’t put together a list of potential threats from your days in the government—security clearance and all—so you’ll have to do your own work there.”

      “Right. And you’ll—”

      “I’ll need to get familiar with Sophie’s schedule. Her friends, teachers, et cetera. Do you want my surveillance to be covert or open?”

      Mark hesitated and JoJo imagined he was weighing the pros and cons.

      “Do you want to take the risk of me doing this without her knowledge, knowing at some point she might learn the truth or—”

      “You can’t handle covert surveillance on a teenager?”

      JoJo nearly growled. “Of course I can. But should danger threaten her in some way I may need to expose myself. The girl’s pretty bright. I’m thinking she wouldn’t buy the story that my presence was a coincidence. Or do you want to spare the righteous teen outrage that would follow such a revelation and simply explain what’s happening? A threat was made, we’re checking it out, but in the meantime I’m going to be hanging around to make sure nothing happens.”

      Still, he hesitated.

      “What did you say about wanting to fix the relationship between you and your daughter?”

      “I don’t want to scare the crap out of her with this. She’s got enough on her plate.”

      “Then you need to ask yourself who Sophie is. Is she the type of kid who is going to be freaked out by this and will shut down out of fear? Or is she the type of kid who can deal with the situation and take reasonable steps to secure her own safety by accepting a necessary precaution?”

      “Are you seriously trying to out-reason me?”

      “I’m saying you’re not a spy anymore. Getting away with a covert operation isn’t the goal. Establishing trust between you and your daughter is. You know? That silly thing called trust—that thing you want to have with me. Well, I’m no expert but I’m fairly sure it’s a critical component in any relationship, especially one between a father and daughter who are only starting to know one another.”

      “You did out-reason me,” he whispered, sounding disgusted. “Okay. Come over tonight. We’ll talk to her together. I’ll let her know what the deal is and you can explain your role. She’ll probably take it better coming from you.”

      “Deal.”

      “Did you find an apartment yet?”

      “Not yet. I have some appointments tomorrow.”

      “To rent or buy?”

      This time she was the one to hesitate, pondering how much he needed to know about her personal life. In her mind, the more space the better, especially since she realized she sort of liked him.

      Not the dangerous red-zone level of like. More bordering on orange. He was funny and could trade barbs with anyone. But there was something else that made him different from other men she’d known. She’d worked for detectives, she’d trained with law enforcers. The term swinging dick was a staple in her descriptive vocabulary.

      The difference between Mark and the other types she’d known in this profession was that he didn’t have to swing his dick to prove anything to anyone.

      He was a badass, and his dick was just there. Impressive without having to announce its presence.

      And that is enough time thinking about the Penis. Move on.

      She considered what he had said earlier. If he was going to trust her with his daughter’s safety, then she could at least be honest with him about the basic facts of her life.

      “Rent.”

      “Because you can’t buy or won’t buy?”

      “If you’re offering me a raise already...”

      He sneered at her. That was the only description she could come up with for the way his lips thinned while half his mouth curled up. “I’m trying to find out if you’re renting for a reason.”

      “Like, duh,” she said, with what she hoped was enough teenage speak so he would understand.

      It only made him sneer harder.

      “Yes, I’m renting for a reason. Until you and I figure out if we can mesh together, I don’t want to make any long-term commitments.”

      “Why do we have to...mesh? Why can’t we simply be two people working together?”

      “Dude, small office. You need to accept the fact that I’m the type who will go into your office and take the case folders if I need them. I probably need to accept the fact that, deep at heart, you’re still a paranoid spy guy. If we can’t do that, no meshing.”

      “Well, then I want to mesh.” He shook his head slightly. “What I meant to say is, I want this to work out. With us.”

      “Ditto.”

      “Good. Okay, well, if you don’t have a place of your own, you’re