Page 35 of Daddy Defender
But Sami was skittish, burned by too many betrayals.
It took weeks—shared smokes, bad jokes, me teaching him chess on a busted board—to get him to open up.
When Sami did open up though, his intel was gold: the novelist’s exact location, down to the room. We got in, got out, no shots fired.
Sami’s trust saved the op, maybe our lives too…
Bodie’s like Sami in a way—wary, holding back, but with intel that could break this wide open. The boy’s confession about Vince’s laundering is just the start.
If I keep Bodie safe, keep showing him I’m not the enemy, he’ll spill the rest. And whatever he’s hiding—more about Vince, his crew, his plans—it could be the key to neutralizing him.
My Daddy side wants to push, to set rules that make him talk, but I know better. Trust is earned, not demanded, and that spanking showed me he responds to boundaries.
I just need to stay steady, be the Daddy he can lean on, and he’ll come around.
Back inside, Bodie’s still sketching, his tongue peeking out as he shades a wave.
His Little side’s out, soft and focused, and it hits me hard—how much I want to protect that, to keep his world small and safe.
But the weight of Vince’s threat, the Guard’s ghosts, it’s heavy today.
Hicks’ face flashes in my mind, that chopper blast in Bogotá, the guilt I’ve carried since. Maybe it’s Bodie’s trust, or the way he looked at me after the spanking, but I feel an urge to share, to let him see the man behind the rules.
“Hey, sweet boy,” I say, easing onto the couch beside him, keeping my voice low. “Put the pencil down for a sec. I want to tell you something.”
Bodie glances up, his blue eyes wary but curious, that pout twitching.
“What, another rule?” Bodie giggles, but he closes the sketchpad, tucking Poot closer. “Fine. What’s up?”
I lean back, scrubbing a hand over my face, the scar above my eyebrow itching like it always does when I think of Hicks.
“Not a rule. A story,” I say. “About a guy I worked with, a teammate. Name was Hicks. Best damn pilot the Guard had. Saved my ass more times than I can count.” My voice catches, and I clear my throat, staring at the shack’s cracked ceiling. “Few years back, we were on a job in Colombia. Extracting a politician’s kid from a cartel. Supposed to be clean—in, out, gone. Hicks was waiting with the chopper, ready to fly us out.”
Bodie shifts, his knees drawn up, listening.
I keep going, the words rough but steady.
“We got the kid,” I continue. “Cleared the area, made it to the extraction point. Then an RPG came out of nowhere. Hit the chopper. Hicks didn’t have a chance. Fireball took him, the bird, everything. I was carrying the kid, running, but I kept thinking—if I’d pushed for better intel, if I’d seen the ambush coming, Hicks might still be here.” My fists clench, the guilt sharp as ever. “He was a brother. AndIlet him down.”
Fuck. That’s heavy.
Maybe too heavy.
I hope Bodie can handle it…
The shack’s quiet, just the waves outside and Bodie’s soft breathing. I brace for him to pull back, to see the blood on my hands and flinch. But he doesn’t.
Bodie’s hand rests on my arm, small and warm, his touch grounding me.
“Henry,” Bodie says, his voice soft, no sass, just his sweetness and empathy shining through. “That wasn’t your fault. Hicks wouldn’t have blamed you. No way. He knew the risks, right? You guys were a team, doing dangerous stuff. He’d want you to keep going, not carry that guilt forever.”
Bodie’s eyes meet mine, steady and kind, like he’s seeing past the Guard, past the Daddy, to the man underneath…
I swallow hard, his words sinking in, loosening something tight in my chest.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say, my voice gruff. “Doesn’t feel that way most days.” I cover his hand with mine, squeezing gently. “Hey… thanks. You saying that means more than you know.”
Bodie’s cheeks flush, and I see it—the trust building, his walls cracking just a bit more.
