Page 61 of Shadow

“Your turn,” Asher said. “Where are you from?”

“Here. Renegade. Born and raised.” She picked at her pizza crust. “My father was a cop. A good cop. A hero. He was killed in the line of duty when I was sixteen.”

“Oh, wow. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” She echoed his word. “It was…it was rough. My mom was devastated—we both were. She packed me up three days after the funeral, and we went to live with my grandparents in Seattle. Never came back.”

He frowned at that. “So this is…”

“My first time back, yeah. Anyway, my dad’s legacy is what got me into law enforcement too. Wanted to be like him. Wanted to stop the bad guys.”

“Did you?”

“Some of them.” She met his eyes. “Not enough.”

He held her gaze across the table. Then sighed. “Okay then. So we both became cops because we lost someone,” Asher said. “That’s actually a good foundation for our cover story. Shared experience. Shared values.”

“Shared trauma?”

“That too.” His mouth quirked again. That almost smile that softened the hard edges. “Nothing says ‘true love’ like bonding over dead family members.”

Daphne snorted despite herself. Dark humor. The kind you only got from people who’d seen too much. “You’re terrible.”

“You laughed.”

“I have a warped sense of humor.”

“Good. Me too.” He leaned back. “So. US Marshals. When did you leave?”

Hmm. So many layers to that question. “Three years ago,” she said. “A case went wrong, and we lost a witness.” She met his eyes. “I had to walk away.”

“And you went private.”

“And I went private.” She looked at him. “Your turn. FBI. Why?”

“I started out in the Denver PD, but I wanted federal jurisdiction. Bigger cases. More resources to actually make a difference.” He shrugged. “Naive, maybe. But I thought if I worked hard enough, learned enough, I could actually stop the evil instead of just cleaning up after it.”

“Can you?”

“Stop evil?” He laughed. Hollow sound. “No. But maybe I can slow it down. Keep people alive long enough to testify. Put bad guys away long enough to matter.” He met her eyes. “That’s something.”

It was something.

“Let’s run it again,” Daphne said. “Top to bottom. If Ruthie or Dean asks tomorrow, I want us in sync.”

He nodded “Right. I’m a contractor. And you’re a travel agent.” He smiled.

Shoot, he had a nice smile. “So…our first date? After I finally agreed to date you.”

“Ooh, feisty.” He pretended to consider. “All right, I accept your terms. Location?”

“Okay, um, how about…church?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Church?”

“Do you attend?” She took a bite of her pizza.

“Do you?”