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crossing lines for maura
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Eventually, and with deliberate slowness, to show it is his decision, he has the power. Paddy lifts the phone.
Before Jane has a chance to speak the eloquent gangster is asking questions.
”How exactly did you get a visit at such short notice, and despite my refusal to talk to you?” Doyle asks with forced casualness. The topic could be as mundane as the weather for all his tone gave away. Yet just like Maura, her sperm donors real emotions flicker for a second at the back of his eyes. Jane internally flinches at the reminder of the likeness but with her ability to read Maura she can tell Paddy is pissed. He is angry at being dragged to talk to Jane, at his loss of power. At the humiliation of being forced to talk to the cop who shot him.
”You ain’t the only one with connections Doyle. We need to talk!” Jane states brusquely and with a flash of the cocky Rizzoli grin.
Doyle’s cold face doesn’t change. No. No gangster as old and successful as him survived by rising to bait. By giving away his emotions with his face.
Instead his eyes survey Jane as though she is the filth of the earth. A disease to be destroyed.
”I don’t talk to cops. Buried enough people who did to know that it ain’t how the game is played,” Doyle replies with derision and an eerie calm.
He lifts the phone as though to slam it down but his hand is stilled by Jane’s interruption, ”It’s about Maura.” Jane rushes.
Her professional mask slipping for a second and the desperation and fear trickle into the three words.
Paddy is frozen half way to hanging up his phone. His eyes zero in on Jane. Probing, measuring, evaluating. Years of Westie experience letting him dissect the motives of men from a single glance.
Slowly he brings the phone back to his ear and his mask of the Westie enforcer slips a fraction to show the concern of a father. Doyle was not a good man by any stretch of the imagination. He was a product of his environment. A Westie born into a Westie family. Like any Irish family he valued his clan but love has a way of twisting you all up inside. Just as it seemed to be doing to Jane Rizzoli. Doyle had defied his family to be with Hope and then he had left her to ensure her safety. He had lied about Maura’s death to her mother to ensure the child’s safety. Told no-one of her existence. Erected a gravestone to hide her life. Doyle had been born a Westie and was expected to die a Westie, in his life there was no place for one as pure and beautiful as his daughter. He had watched from afar though, because even though he had to lived up to his family obligations, Maura was still his. His family too. It was a warped kind of love. A love bound up in old ideas of honour and family name. A love warped by the need to protect what was ’his,’ his property, his family, his business. Of all these things, Maura was the number one on his property list. As close to pure and real love as he would ever know.
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this was great I love the fiery jane the one who would do anything to protect Maura I hope you post more I realy enjoyed reading this..