body tense. Mark knew the power of his glare well. Hell, he practiced his hard-core intimidation look. He used it to knock people off guard.
She was right. For the most part, he was a laid-back guy. Right up until the point when he wasn’t.
It was time JoJo—and, really, what was with that ridiculous name?—knew that about him.
He’d sent hardened soldiers, Taliban fighters and steely covert operatives into retreat with this very expression. No doubt it would work on her.
JoJo snorted and shoved his chest. “Give me a break. You don’t scare me, spy man. Now, do you want me to go over these cases or not?”
Mark was stunned by her lack of fear. Her lack of awe. Her lack of every reaction he was accustomed to. Had he become so domesticated since returning stateside that his once infamous back-the-hell-down face was no longer effective?
He sighed with disgust. It was official. He was no longer a badass. Merely the remnant of one. He supposed that was a good thing, but it felt deflating.
She still waited for him to give her enough room to pass, her arms filled with the cases he’d planned to have her go over. But he abruptly knew he didn’t want her working on any of them.
A woman who could stand up to him when he was being his worst was someone who also stood a chance with Sophie when she was being her worst.
Leaving Sophie at rehearsal today had been difficult. He didn’t like the idea of her without protection. But given her attitude toward him, Mark knew he needed an alternative to following her around himself. Having someone Sophie actually liked do it was the answer he was looking for.
“No, I don’t want you to look at those cases. I have something more important that I need you to handle. Something incredibly important to me.”
“And that would be?”
“My daughter’s safety.”
CHAPTER FIVE
JOJO LOOKED AT the note and felt a jab of anger behind her breastbone. Like someone had stabbed an old wound, reminding her of how real pain used to feel. The kid had lost her mother and she was building a relationship with a father she hadn’t known growing up.
Now this? It didn’t seem fair.
JoJo walked the few steps to her office. She felt more in control in her office. More of a problem solver and less of an empathizer. Mark followed and leaned against the door, his arms crossed.
“What are you thinking?” She sat behind her desk. Placed her elbows on its surface. Asked questions. Acted out the same role she would with any client.
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Old enemies, new enemies? You’re starting to build a reputation in this city as someone who solves unsolvable crimes. There must have been people along the way who would want to hurt you. Hurt you through her.”
“You’re not going to ask me if I think she sent it?”
“No. I’ve met Sophie. This isn’t her.”
“You say that confidently. You met her this week and chatted for a few hours.”
JoJo shrugged. “I know what I know. Giving your father a hard time is something I’m an expert on. While Sophie might sarcasm you to death, sneaky scare tactics aren’t her style. She’s too up front.”
“Is that what you did after it happened? Gave your father a hard time?”
She didn’t need to ask what he was referring to—any investigator by trade would certainly ferret out his employees’ personal details. JoJo wondered if poor Susan knew the extent to which her privacy had been violated. It was most likely beyond what many employees would consider reasonable.
No, there was no question whether he knew about her past. But she didn’t know what to say in response.
He wore a sheepish grin, yet didn’t look apologetic. “It’s who I am. It’s what I do. I knew about it peripherally when I did the background check before I hired you. I heard you tell Sophie about it at dinner and I learned everything there was to know. I’m sorry for your loss, of course.”
Right. This was the point where she nodded demurely and said thank you because it was usually the most expedient way to get people to stop talking about it. With her eyes lowered and her lips turned down in a hard frown, most people didn’t press the topic. No one actually wanted to make a woman cry. Not that she had. Not for a long time.
But something about what he said rubbed her the wrong way. The way he stood in front of her thinking he 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
