Page 21 of Daddy Defender
“Good,” Henry says, his voice calm and with that annoying air of authority. “We’re headed to a safe place, but I need to know more about what’s chasing you. That Vince guy you mentioned…what’s his deal? You said he’s a smuggler. How deep’s he in, and why is he after you?”
I bristle, my walls snapping up like a fortress.
“Why do you care?” I snap, turning to glare at him. “You’re not my babysitter. I didn’t ask for this.”
My heart races, not just from his questions but from the truth I’m dodging.
Vince’s not just a smuggler—he’s a monster, and I’m scared to say it out loud, like naming him will summon him through the window.
Henry’s eyes stay on the road, but his voice softens, steady, like he’s talking me off a ledge.
“I care because someone tried to kill you tonight, Bodie,” Henry says. “Twice. Either one of those bullets could have put you down. You’re tough, but you’re not bulletproof. I can’t keep you safe if I don’t know what I’m up against. So talk. What’s Vince got on you?”
Henry’s gentle but firm insistence chips at me, like waves wearing down a cliff.
I want to keep fighting, to tell him to shove it, but there’s something in his tone—not pity, not judgment, but a quiet promise that he’s not running.
It makes my Little side ache, wanting to spill everything, to let someone else carry the weight. But I’ve trusted before, andit burned me. Vince’s charm was a trap, and Henry’s Daddy energy could be one too, no matter how safe it feels right now.
“I… um…” I say, intentionally letting my voice trail off, hoping that Henry will take the hint and drop the inquisition.
I turn away, staring out the window, and fish my phone from my bag to avoid his gaze. The screen lights up, and I scroll, not really looking, just needing a distraction.
Then a news alert catches my eye, and my breath hitches. It’s a local report, timestamped an hour ago:
Crime Syndicate Busted in Major Drug Raid. Leader Vince Gray Still at Large.
My stomach drops. The article mentions cartel ties, millions in cocaine, and a string of murders linked to Vince’s crew.
There’s a blurry photo of him, smirking on a beach, the same cocky grin that sucked me in months ago.
My fingers tremble, and I lock the screen, shoving the phone under my thigh so Henry doesn’t see.
Henry doesn’t know about this, and I’m not telling him. Not yet.
If Vince is on the run, he’s desperate, and that makes him even more dangerous. But spilling to Henry means admitting how deep I’m in, how I let Vince use Shred, how I ignored the red flags.
For all I know, Henry is an agent undercover, using me to get to Vince. And when he’s done? I could be facing jail, or worse. No, I need to use my brains and think.
But aside from that, I can’t handle the shame, or the way Henry might look at me—like I’m some dumb kid who walked into a trap.
I’m not that boy.
I’m Bodie, the surfer who rides ten-footers, who ditched college to chase waves. I’ve got this. I’ll figure out a way to slip Vince’s net, gas up Shred, and vanish to some nowhere town where no one knows my name.
“Bodie,” Henry says, his voice firmer now, pulling me back. “I’m not the enemy. You don’t have to tell me everything, but give me something. Why’s Vince after you? What’d you do to piss him off?”
I clench my jaw, my nails digging into Poot’s fur.
“I left him,” I say finally, the words bitter. “He didn’t like that.Okay?”
It’s half the truth, but it’s all I can manage. My Little side wants to blurt the rest—about the ledger, the smuggling, how Vince mocked my romper when I tried to run—but I bite it back. Henry’s already too close, too in my space, and I need to keep some walls up.
Henry nods, like he’s piecing it together, but his eyes flick to me again, searching.
“Left him and he sends shooters? There’s more to it,” Henry says, his voice a low growl. “You don’t have to trust me, but you’re stuck with me until this is over. Might as well make it easier on both of us.”
“Easier?” I scoff, but it’s weak, my fight draining out of me.
