Page 10 of Daddy Defender
I climb into the back of Shred, where I’ve got my makeshift bed—a pile of blankets, a foam mat, and a couple of pillows I’ve hauled coast to coast.
Poot’s waiting, his walrus tusks proud as ever, and I grab him, hugging him tight.
“We’re okay, buddy,” I whisper, my voice wobbling. My Little side aches, craving the comfort of my romper, a juice box, something to make the world small and soft again.
I dig out my portable cassette player, a relic I’ve had since I was a kid, and pop in my favorite tape of Little nursery rhymes. The tinny notes of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” fill the van, and I snuggle under the blankets, Poot pressed against my chest.
The music’s supposed to calm me, to pull me into that safe space where I can be Little Bodie, not Scared Bodie. I close my eyes, picturing waves, not Vince’s green eyes or Henry’s smug smirk. Sleep’s so close, tugging at me, promising a few hours of peace.
Then gravel crunches outside, sharp and loud.
My eyes snap open, heart leaping into my throat.
A low rumble cuts through the nursery rhymes—a car engine, idling nearby.
No, no, no.
Please no. This can’t be happening…
I hold my breath, clutching Poot so tight his tusk digs into my palm. The cassette player hums on oblivious as I ease up, crawling to the rear window.
I peel back the curtain, just a sliver, and peek out…
A black truck’s parked twenty feet away, its headlights off, engine still running. In the driver’s seat, a man sits, his face half-lit by the streetlamp.
He’s big, bearded, with a baseball cap pulled low, staring straight at Shred.
My stomach drops. He’s not moving, just watching, his silhouette ominous, like a predator sizing up prey.
Vince’s men.
The thought hits like ice water. Did he really find me? Was his message no bluff? Or is this just some random asshole, some creep who picked the wrong night to park here?
I duck down, my breathing hard and fast, my heart thumping.
“What do I do, Poot?” I whisper, my voice barely a sound.
Call the cops? No, they’ll ask questions, and if Vince’s got connections, that could make things worse.
Drive away? Shred’s got no gas to spare.
Stay put and hope he leaves? What if he doesn’t? My mind races, but every option feels like a trap.
I’m alone, in the dark, with a strange man outside and Vince’s threat looping in my head:You’ll pay.
The truck’s engine revs, low and menacing, and I freeze, hugging Poot, wishing for once I hadn’t told Henry to get lost. Because right now, I need any help I can get…
Chapter 4
Henry
“Damn that boy all to hell,” I growl, gulping down the last of my beer. “Another.”
The bartender nods and before I know it, a fresh bottle of beer is presented to me. But here’s the thing. I know I can’t relax and enjoy the beer like I should. Every instinct inside my body and mind is telling me that Bodie needs my help…
The boy is stubborn, proud, cocky…
But he’s young and naïve too.
