Page 4 of Daddy Defender
My cheeks burn.
Am I that obvious?
“Mind your own business,” I snap, trying to sidestep him. But he shifts, not blocking me exactly, just making it clear he’s not done.
“The name’s Henry,” he says, hands in his pockets, casual but deliberate. “I’m not here to hassle you. But you’re spooked. I know the signs. I know when someone needs help.”
Spooked.The word hits too close.
I want to tell him to back off, to leave me and Poot and Shred to figure this out.
But there’s something in Henry’s voice—not pity, not charm, but a quiet certainty that makes my defenses waver. It’s like he’s seen worse than whatever’s chasing me and lived to tell about it.
“I’m good, don’t worry about me,” I say. “I’m quite alright by myself, thanks.”
Henry tilts his head, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Didn’t say you weren’t,” Henry says, his voice low and calm. “But trouble’s got a way of finding people who run alone.”
My stomach twists.
He’s right, and I hate it.
Vince’s message burns in my mind, and the bar suddenly feels too small, too exposed. I don’t know this Henry guy, and I definitely don’t trust him, but the weight of his gaze feels like something to cling to. And I’m so tired of running.
Before I can answer, the bartender calls out, “Closing in ten!” and the locals start shuffling toward the door.
Henry doesn’t move, just watches me, waiting.
For what, I don’t know. A decision? A breakdown?
I clutch my bag tighter, Poot’s tusk poking my palm, and make a choice.
“I’m leaving,” I say, brushing past him toward the exit. “Don’t follow me. I mean that…Henry.”
But as I step into the cool night air, the parking lot dark and Shred waiting faithfully, I hear his boots crunch on the gravel behind me. Not close, not crowding, but there. Like a shadow I didn’t ask for…
Chapter 2
Henry
“I’ll have another when you’re ready,” I say, my thirst for a nice cold beer bringing me back to the bar once more.
I’m not the kind of guy who drinks to excess, that’s never been me. I like to stay in control. It might be because of my work as a Night Ops Guard, but I’ve seen some good men die from not being able to control themselves around the booze, and I certainly don’t want to be one of them. These were good men, some of the bravest and fiercest operatives any man could have the honor of serving alongside. But after too many tough missions with the Guard, I saw them fall into a spiral of drink and drugs, sadly unable to pull themselves out in time.
Shit. That’s just the life of a Guard though.
We know what we’re signing up for—and even if we don’t, we sure as hell find out pretty damn quickly once training is done and we’re out on a real life operation.
Men like Cole, Hunter, the list goes on. These are men that I would trust my life with. And they would feel the same about me too. Well, I hope they would! But nothing can change the fact that some of our missions are so intense, dangerous, and attimes morally grey that I can see why it’s all too much for some men.
I guess I’m one of the lucky ones who can handle it.
But that doesn’t mean that I can’t let loose a little from time to time. In theory, I could be anywhere in the world right now. I could be partying on a beach, having fun with some boys on a tropical island somewhere, whatever… I’ve been paid for the mission and am on leave. The world is my oyster.
But…
I’m back in Sunny Ferns, on my own, and generally just getting in some much needed rest and relaxation. Sunny Ferns is as close to a hometown as I’ve got. Growing up, we moved around a lot. I mean, I’m talking every few months sometimes.
