Page 3 of Daddy Defender
We were in his beachfront condo, the one paid for with what I now know wasverydirty money. I’d found a ledger in his desk—names, dates, shipments. Not just merchandise or knockoff watches, butseriousstuff. The kind that gets people killed. When I confronted him, he laughed, said I was in too deep to leave. He said that he’d make sure of it.
Urgh. Why did I ever get involved?
A shiver runs down my spine, and I grip the beer tighter.
Focus, Bodie.
I fish my phone from my bag, the screen lighting up with a dozen unread messages. Vince’s name glows like a warning sign. I’ve been avoiding them, driving with Shred and Poot, trying to outrun his threats. My thumb hovers over the block button...
One tap, and he’s gone. Out of my life. I can almost taste the freedom.
Then a new message pings, and my breath catches…
VINCE:I know you’re in Sunny Ferns, babe. You think you can hide? I’m coming for you. You’ll pay for running. And once I’m done, you won’t ever run away from me again…
My heart lurches into my throat.Sunny Ferns.How does he know?
I glance around the bar, half-expecting to see his smug face in the shadows. The locals are still at their drinks, the jukebox droning on.
No Vince. No henchmen. That’s something at least.
But my pulse races, my fingers trembling as I clutch the phone.
Is it a bluff? He’s always been good at mind games, twisting my fears until I doubted myself. But this feels too specific. Too real.
I down the rest of my beer, the bottle clinking against the table as I set it down hard.
Get out, Bodie. Now.
I need to move, find a gas station, fill Shred’s tank, and keep going. I know that wasn’t my plan, but things change. That’s how I live. It just so happens that this time the change is happening out of necessity rather than my own choice.
“What the hell should I do?” I whisper under my breath, my shoulders tense from the message. “This can’t be happening…”
I could maybe head north, lose myself in some nowhere town. Yeah, that could work. It really could. The last place Vince would expect me to go is to somewhere nowhere near the surf. I could totally do that. And after a couple of months I could think about getting back to the surf life.
“Okay. It’s time to be a big boy,” I say. “I’ve got this.”
I sling my bag over my shoulder, tucking Poot’s tusk under the flap so he’s safe. My Little side aches for his comfort, for a juice box and a nap, but there’s no time for that. Not when Vince’s words echo in my head…You’ll pay.
I’m halfway to the door when a shadow looms in front of me. Not Vince—someone bigger, broader, with a presence that fills the room like a storm rolling in.
I freeze, my hand instinctively clutching my bag.
He’s tall, maybe six-foot-two, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and dark eyes that seem to see right through me. His black T-shirt stretches over muscles that scream “don’t mess with me,” and there’s a faint scar above his left eyebrow, like he’s fought battles I can’t imagine.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, trying to avoid eye contact.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low, gravelly, like he’s not used to small talk. “You okay?”
I bristle, stepping back.
“I’m fine. Just leaving.”
My tone’s sharper than I mean, but I’m done with strange guys thinking they can swoop in. Vince was charming once, too. And I’m not going to fall for that kind of act ever again. No way, no how, it’s just not happening.
I finally look up and see his eyes narrow, not angry but…assessing. Like he’s reading every twitch of my body.
“You don’t look fine,” he says. “You’ve been checking the door every five seconds.”
