One shot I did on my own. Ficlet. Characters are not mine. They belong to TNT, Tess, Janet, and the other important people at Turner.
"Should I even ask how you got in here?" Jane slowly closed her front door, hand instantly going to the butt of her gun.
"Would it matter? Let's just say it'd be a good idea for you to switch that lock of yours with something a little sturdier." He stood from her sofa and took a few steps toward her.
If one didn't know the man, they would think he looked harmless enough. Gentle demeanor, soft voice, and dressed in a polo shirt and khaki pants with brown loafers, he looked like any balding middle aged Caucasian man living in Boston.
But this was no ordinary man. This was Patrick Doyle, the biological father of Maura Isles and the main hit man for one of the largest crime families in Boston.
"I'll think about it." The hand not on the butt of her gun flexed as her face grew stony. "Why are you here, Doyle?"
"I want to talk." He nodded toward her, eyes flickering to her gun. "You won't need that. I'm here about Maura."
"What about her? Is she in danger?" The detective's voice was guarded, but her eyes gave everything away. She was suddenly very concerned and very interested in what one of Boston's most wanted had to say. Her hand slowly moved away from her gun.
"No, not at the moment, but you should know by now that I keep a close eye on her." He considered the brunette for a moment. "She's family, my daughter. You know I'll protect her."
"Yeah, well," Jane crossed her arms, leaning against her door, "so will I."
"I know. I've been watching you, too. Don't look annoyed, Detective. Anyone that is that close to my daughter is a… a person of interest. I had to make sure you were clean. You understand." He gave a gentle shrug.
"Sure." A humorless chuckle escaped her throat. "Why are you here, Doyle? I know it's not to turn yourself in. What's wrong with Maura?"
"Nothing, thank God." With a heavy sigh, the older man ran a hand down his weary face. "You're dating her." It was a statement. There was no question in his voice. "You're in as much danger as she is. As long as you're with her, you're under my protection. It's pretty clear anything that hurts you hurts her. Watching her deal with the aftermath after you shot yourself was hard, I want you to know. It took everything in me not to show up to be the father I've never been to her." He shook his head.
"I don't need your protection, Doyle. I can take care of both of us." Jane pushed off the door, leaning in and narrowing her eyes in an unspoken threat.
"I think you and I both know there are things I can do that you can't that will keep both of you safe. There's a fine line between people like me and people like you, Detective."
"Yeah, a thin blue line, and you're on the wrong side of it," she snapped back.
"I've heard that line a few times in my life," he raised one eyebrow, mocking her. "Maura trusts you, and I've watched you enough to know that it's not misplaced. So, I'm here to tell you I'm around, and I'm watching."
"And, if you hurt her, they'll never find your body." His eyes met hers.
Toe to toe, unspoken threat to unspoken threat, ego to ego, they silently squared off.
It was Jane who broke the tense silence. "What makes you think you have the right to threaten me? You're not her father. You're a sperm donor."
"Maura is my daughter, and I will always protect her. I'm her father; that's what gives me the right. You and I are two sides of the same coin. We both care about her. We both want her safe. We both want her happy. I'm here to tell you that I expect you to deliver because I will."
"No pressure there," Jane mumbled as she rolled her eyes and finally stepped away from the door and toward her kitchen. "I should bust you right here and now."
"But you're not going to." His voice was matter-of-fact.
She kept walking, her back to Doyle. "You were never here."
A grunt floated through the air before the front door gently clicked closed.
When she turned around, he was gone. Left in his place on the sofa was a small box. Jane carefully picked it up. She hesitated, unsure of how safe it would be to open it, but finally settled on opening it and hoping for the best.
In side were two things:
A Cell Phone
A note reading, "Whatever you want, I can get it."
Thank you for reading. Your reviews are appreciated.