Page 23 of Daddy Defender
H: Need you to dig into a guy named Vince Gray. Could be a smuggler, maybe cartel, based out of the West, but could be from anywhere. Targeting a boy, Bodie, around 23, surfer. Sent shooters after him tonight. Get me everything you can find—associates, reach, current location. Heading to safehouse north. ASAP.
I hit send, knowing Cole will come through. He’s a mountain of a man, lethal as hell, but sharp with intel, always sniffing out dirt others miss.
If anyone can get a read on Vince, it’s Cole.
And if I thought that Cole was going to go soft now that he had a boy in his life, I couldn’t be more wrong. Ever since he got together with his love, he’s been even more focused, ruthless, and efficient. Turns out that having something to live for makes you an even better Guard. Who would have thought it?
I lean back, the seat creaking under me, and glance at Bodie. His face is soft in sleep, freckles dusting his nose, that stubborn pout gone for once.
The boy a fighter, but he’s fragile too, his Little side peeking out with that stuffy. It stirs something in me, a desire to shield him, to be the Daddy he doesn’t know he needs. But he’s made it clear he doesn’t trust easy, and after Vince, I can’t blame him.
A rustle pulls my eyes back to him. He’s stirring, blinking slow, his blue eyes foggy as he sits up, Poot still in his arms.
“What’re you doing?” Bodie mumbles, voice thick with sleep, a hint of that pout creeping back. “Why… why did we stop?”
“Go back to sleep,” I say, keeping my tone low, tucking the phone away. “Just handling something. Business. You know.”
Bodie rubs his eyes, hugging Poot tighter.
“Can’t go back to sleep now,” Bodie says, a whine edging his voice, his Little side slipping through. “I’m too awake. My butt’s still sore, thanks to you.”
He shoots me a glare, but it’s half-hearted, more playful than pissed. There’s a spark in Bodie’s eyes, like the spanking left him rattled but maybe a little intrigued.
I raise an eyebrow, fighting a smirk.
“You earned that, boy,” I laugh. “But if you can’t sleep, do something quiet. Draw or something. Keep your mind off it. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of supplies in the back of this van.”
He huffs, but his eyes light up, like I’ve hit on something he didn’t expect me to get.
“Fine,” Bodie says, twisting to reach into the back of the van. He digs through his mess of blankets and pillows, pulling out a worn sketch pad and a ziplock bag of colored pencils. “But you better drive smooth, Henry. I don’t want my lines all wobbly because of your crap driving.”
I chuckle, the sound rough in the quiet.
“Smooth as jazz, princess,” I chuckle. “Just don’t stab me with those pencils if I hit a pothole.”
I start the engine, easing the van back onto the road, the hum settling in again.
There’s a good feeling between us, a lightness that wasn’t there before. The spanking set some boundaries, and while he’s still prickly, he’s not fighting me tooth and nail.Progress.
Bodie flips open his sketch pad, the pencil scratching soft as he starts to draw.
I steal a glance, catching the curve of waves taking shape, bold and fluid, like he’s pouring his soul onto the page.
His hand moves with a surfer’s grace, and his face softens, that Little side peeking out in the way he bites his lip, focused but relaxed. It’s damn near mesmerizing, seeing him like this—not the defiant brat, but a boy lost in his art, his world small and safe for a moment.
My Daddy side hums, wanting to praise him, to set rules that keep him in this soft space, but I know better than to push too hard. Bodie’s skittish, and I’m not here to scare him off.
“Nice waves,” I say, keeping my voice casual, eyes on the road. “You draw like you surf?”
Bodie glances up, a shy smile tugging at his lips before he catches himself and shrugs.
“Maybe,” Bodie says. “Been drawing the ocean since I was a kid. It’s… my thing.” His voice is softer, like he’s letting me in just a crack, and it feels like a win.
“Bet you’re a hell of a surfer,” I say, testing the waters, a grin creeping in. “All fire and no fear out there,huh? You know, I’d like to see you shred a wave. Bet you look good doing it.”
His cheeks flush, and he ducks his head, pencil pausing.
“Flirt much?” Bodie mutters, but there’s a giggle in there, light and teasing, his Little side dancing close to the surface. For a second, it’s easy, the air warm with something that feels like possibility. “Don’t get any ideas, Henry. I’m not your type.”
