Page 8 of Protect Me Daddy

"I'm Detective Dwight Brookes, Vice Squad," he said softly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've been working undercover to infiltrate a human trafficking ring."

The mug slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the table. Coffee spilled across the surface, but I barely noticed. My mind reeled, struggling to process his words.

"Trafficking?" I whispered, my voice small and shaky. "But . . . what does that have to do with last night?"

Dwight's expression darkened. He reached across the table, gently taking my trembling hands in his. "Earl and his friends, they're not just random harassers, Tilly. They're scouts for the operation, targeting vulnerable women in bars and clubs like O'Malley's."

Ice flooded my veins as the full implications hit me. My gaze darted to the door, half-expecting Earl to burst through at any moment. "You mean . . . they were going to . . ."

"I won't let that happen," Dwight said fiercely, his grip on my hands tightening. "Not to you, not to anyone else."

Tears welled in my eyes as I remembered Earl's words from the night before. A new home. The casual cruelty in his voice. How close had I come to disappearing forever?

"Why me?" I choked out, furiously blinking back tears. I wouldn't cry. I couldn't.

Dwight's thumb traced soothing circles on my palm. "They look for women who seem isolated, vulnerable. Your strength drew me to you, but to them . . . they saw someone they thought they could break."

A sob escaped me then, and Dwight was around the table in an instant, pulling me into his arms. I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his comforting scent as he stroked my hair.

"I've got you, little one," he murmured. "You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you."

I clung to him, my protector, as the full horror of what could have been washed over me. In that moment, I knew my life would never be the same.

I took a shuddering breath, trying to steady myself in Dwight's arms. His strength was reassuring, but my mind raced with questions.

"That's why I was at O'Malley's," Dwight admitted softly, his fingers still gently combing through my hair. "We had intel they were operating there. But I never expected . . ."

He trailed off, and I pulled back slightly to look up at him. His jaw was clenched, eyes fierce with a protective intensity that made my heart skip.

"When I saw how they were targeting you . . ." Dwight's voice was low, almost a growl. "I couldn't stand by. Protocol be damned."

I swallowed hard, memories of the night before flooding back. Earl's leering grin, his meaty hand on my arm. "A new home," I whispered, my voice trembling. "That's what he said. I thought he was just being a creep, but . . ."

Tears welled up again as the full horror of my near-miss hit me. I'd been so close to vanishing, to becoming another statistic. My legs felt weak, and I sagged against Dwight's solid frame.

His arms tightened around me, one hand cupping the back of my head. "I've got you," he murmured fiercely. "You're safe now, little one. I promise."

I pressed my face into his chest, letting his warmth and strength anchor me as I processed the terrifying reality of what could have been. In that moment, I knew nothing would ever be the same again.

I took a shuddering breath, inhaling Dwight's comforting scent—a mixture of coffee, soap, and something uniquely him. As my tears subsided, I felt his body shift slightly. He cleared his throat, his voice hesitant as he spoke.

"Tilly . . . about last night. When you called me Daddy . . . "

My cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. I'd almost forgotten that slip in the chaos of everything else. I pulled back, ready to stammer out an apology, but Dwight's gentle grip on my shoulders stopped me.

"I need you to know that's okay," he continued softly. His piercing eyes met mine, filled with understanding. "More than okay. I understand that headspace."

My heart stuttered. "You . . . you do?" I whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

Dwight nodded, a tender smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I do. I've had experience with littles before. It's a part of who I am—being a Daddy Dom, I mean."

I blinked, processing this revelation. Part of me wanted to hide, to curl up with Red Rabbit and pretend this conversation wasn't happening. But a larger part—the part that had instinctively reached for Dwight's protection—felt a surge of hope.

"When I saw you at the bar," Dwight continued, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my arm, "I felt this . . . pull. Your vulnerability, the way you carried yourself - it awakened something in me. I wanted to protect you, to take care of you, even before I knew you were in real danger. I guess my Daddy radar was going a bit crazy." He gave a warm, reassuring smile.

I swallowed hard, remembering how safe I'd felt in his arms, how right it had been to call him Daddy. "I've never . . . I mean, I've thought about it, but . . ."

Dwight's smile widened. "We can take it slow, little one. There's no pressure. But I want you to know that I see you—all of you. And I'm here, whatever you need."

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