Page 30 of Daddy Defender
He’s already skittish, burned by Vince’s lies.
If I tell Bodie I’m a soldier for hire, that I’ve killed, lost men, he might bolt. Or worse, he might look at me like I’m no better than the bastard chasing him…
But keeping Bodie in the dark’s not working either.
He’s smart, sharp enough to know I’m more than I’m letting on. That “Vince” slip in the van, the news report he hid last night—he’s holding back too.
If we’re gonna survive this, we need to meet halfway.
I could tell him I’m private security, ex-military maybe, enough to explain my moves without spilling the Guard’s secrets. It’s not a lie, just a half-truth, and it might keep him from running.
Back in the real world though, we’ve got a breakfast to navigate…
Bodie slurps his shake again, the straw making a loud gurgle, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Easy, princess,” I Iaugh. “You’re gonna suck that glass dry.”
Bodie sticks out his tongue, a flash of playful defiance, and my Daddy side hums, wanting to pull him over my knee for a quick swat.
But I don’t.
Not here, not now.
The boy is relaxed, and I’m not about to ruin it.
Instead, I lean back, watching him dip a fry in whipped cream—gross, but oddly endearing—and decide to table the Guard talk. For now, it’s about getting through breakfast, keeping him safe, and hitting the safehouse before Vince’s goons catch up.
“Finish up,” I say, my tone calm but very clear. “We’ve got a drive ahead, and I don’t want you whining about hunger in ten minutes.”
Bodie rolls his eyes but keeps eating, his fork scraping the plate.
I polish off my eggs, the bacon long gone, and signal the waitress for the check.
The diner’s still buzzing, nobody paying us any mind, but my eyes keep flicking to the door, the windows, scanning for threats. Vince’s reach is long, and I’m not taking chances.
As Bodie slurps the last of his shake, I drop cash on the table, enough for the bill and a solid tip.
“Let’s move, Little One,” I say, standing, my voice low to keep it between us. His cheeks flush at the nickname, just like at the safehouse, and he grabs his bag.
“Fine, but you owe me another diner stop sometime,” Bodie says, sliding out of the booth, his pout back but softer, teasing. “These pancakes werethatgood.”
“Keep dreaming, boy,” I say, guiding him toward the door, my hand hovering near his back, not touching but close.
The bell jingles as we step into the morning air, the van waiting faithfully in the lot.
I scan the road, the trees, my Guard instincts on high alert…
It’s all clear,for now.
We climb into the van, Bodie buckling in, now with Poot on his lap, and I start the engine, the cough louder than I’d like.
Forty-five minutes to the safehouse, maybe less if I push it.
Vince’s out there, and I need Cole’s intel to nail this bastard down.
But as I pull onto the road, Bodie humming softly, his Little side still glowing from those pancakes, I know one thing for sure… I’m not letting him go until he’s safe.
Guard code or not, Daddy or not, Bodie’s under my protection—and I’ll burn the world down before I let Vince touch the darling boy.
