Page 19 of Daddy Defender
“Okay,” Bodie whispers, and it’s the first time he’s sounded small, like his Little side’s peeking out, needing someone to take the reins.
It hits me hard, that trust, fragile as it is. I want to pull him close, tell him he’s safe, but we’re not there yet. Not with a shooter out there and his walls still half-up.
“Good,” I reply. “Now how’s that butt feeling?”
“It’s feeling…spanked,” Bodie answers, a hint of a smile on his face. “I guess you really are a better spanker than you are a driver.”
I roll my eyes. But I’ll let that one spark of sass pass. I mean, Bodie’s actually kind of funny, quick-witted too.
I step out of the van and stand, scanning the dark track, the pines looming like silent guards.
No headlights, no engine hums.
We’re clear for now, but we can’t stay here.
Options…
My cottage is too exposed, and motels are too public.
There’s a safehouse an hour north, a Guard stash nobody knows about. It’s got gear, comms, enough to hold us until I can dig into who’s after him.
Vince, he said, back in the van, his voice raw with fear. Smuggler, probably, maybe cartel. Whatever he is, he’s got reach, and I need to know how deep it goes.
I’ve come up against worse people, that’s for certain. But if Vince is connected to a real-deal cartel, then that changes things. That’s the kind of big league that I don’t want any part of unless it’s entirely necessary.
“Get in the front,” I tell him, sliding the door shut. “We’re moving.”
Bodie obeys, clutching Poot, and climbs into the passenger seat.
I start Shred, the engine coughing—just about enough gas to keep us going—but holding. I pull back onto the road, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of trouble.
Bodie’s quiet, his earlier fire nothing more than embers now, and I let the silence settle. Bodie needs to rest, and I need to think.
As we drive, my mind drifts to the Night Ops Guard, to the weight I’ve carried since I signed up…
The job’s honor but it’s got a dark side.
Missions go wrong. People die—good people, innocents caught in the crossfire. That op in Bogotá wasn’t clean, no matter what the senator said. Hicks, our pilot, was a vet, a mentor, and he went down because our intel missed the cartel’s RPGs.
Another job in Syria, years back, we saved a diplomat but lost a village kid who got too close to the blast zone. His face still haunts me, small and still, collateral damage in a war we didn’t start.
Fuck. I’ve seen some things that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
But every Guard carries ghosts, and I’m no exception.
Protecting Bodie, keeping him alive, it’s more than instinct—it’s a chance to balance the scales. To do something right, something pure, after all the blood and gray morals.
Bodie’s a pain in the ass, sure, but he’s innocent, caught in someone else’s game. If I can neutralize this threat, get him back to his waves and his Little world, it’ll mean something. Not redemption, maybe, but close enough to count.
The road stretches ahead, the van’s headlights cutting through the dark.
Bodie’s curled against the window, Poot in his arms, his breathing slow, like he’s drifting toward sleep.
I keep my eyes on the horizon, my Daddy side vowing to shield him, my Guard side ready to fight.
Whoever’s after him, they’re about to learn what happens when you cross a Night Ops Daddy.
And I’ll be damned if I let them touch him or fire a single bullet in his, or anyone else’s, direction ever again…
