Page 50 of Daddy Defender
Henry raises an eyebrow, a half-smirk tugging his lips, and I roll my eyes, tossing my messy bun for emphasis.
“Yes,sir,” I say, all sass, sticking out my tongue. “What, you think I’m gonna stage a stuffy heist?” But my giggle’s real, my Little side dancing at his teasing. He chuckles, the sound rough and warm, and for a second, it’s just us, no Vince, no danger, just a Daddy and his Little on a normal errand.
The store’s quiet, just the old guy at the counter flipping through his newspaper and a couple of locals browsing.
I head to the magazine rack, my sneakers squeaking on the wooden floor, while Henry grabs a basket for food. The rack’s a treasure trove—gossip rags, surf mags, even some coloring books tucked in the back.
My Little side squeals, and I snatch a coloring book with ocean scenes, plus a surf magazine with a killer cover shot of a ten-footer.
“Score,” I mutter, tucking them under my arm with Poot and Billy.
I’m flipping through the surf mag, lost in a spread about Coral Beach, when a shadow falls across the page.
My skin prickles, that gut-deep feeling of being watched, and I glance up, casual-like, trying not to panic.
There’s a guy by the canned goods, maybe thirty, with a shaved head and a leather jacket that’s too heavy for the coastal heat. He’s tall, lean, with a jagged scar across his knuckles as he grabs a can of beans, his eyes casting around, like he’s looking for someone.
My breath catches.
I know him. Not his name, but his face—those cold, gray eyes, the way he holds himself like he’s ready to pounce.
I saw him at one of Vince’s parties, back when I thought they were just surf parties and nothing more. He was in the corner, talking low with Vince, his vibe all wrong, like a shark in a kiddie pool.
My heart thumps, and I clutch Poot so tight his tusk digs into my palm.
It can’t be a coincidence. Vince’s horrible men are here, just like Henry’s friend Cole warned.
I glance at Henry, who’s by the cooler grabbing sodas, his back to me but his posture alert, like he’s sensing something too. I want to run to him, but my feet feel glued to the floor, my Little side screaming to hide while my surfer boy side tells me to play it cool.
The creepy guy moves, slow and deliberate, toward the counter, his eyes sweeping the store—he hasn’t spotted me, but I’m terrified that he might.
My stomach twists, Vince’s threats echoing in my head:You’ll pay for running, babe.I force myself to breathe, to act normal, and shuffle toward Henry, my magazines and stuffies clutched like a lifeline.
“Henry,” I whisper, my voice shaky as I reach him, tugging his sleeve. “That guy… by the counter. I know him. From Vince’s parties. He’s one of his…people.”
Henry’s eyes snap to mine, then to the guy, his jaw tightening as he assesses. He doesn’t panic, doesn’t flinch, just nods, calm but sharp, like he’s been waiting for this.
“We haven’t been spotted,” Henry says, his voice low, barely audible. “But we need to move. Now. Leave the stuff.”
Henry takes the magazines and coloring book from my hands, setting them on a shelf, and grabs my wrist, firm but gentle, pulling me toward the door.
My heart’s pounding, fear clawing at me, but Henry’s grip grounds me, his Daddy side in full control.
We slip out, the bell jingling softly, and I keep my head down, my sneakers scuffing the pavement as we hurry to Shred, parked under the same crooked palm tree.
The street’s quiet, no black trucks, no other goons, but I feel exposed, like those gray eyes are still on me. Henry opens the passenger door, practically lifting me into the seat, and I cling to Poot and Billy, my hands shaking as he slides into the driver’s side.
Henry starts the engine, Shred coughing to life, and I scoot closer, pressing against his side, needing his warmth, his strength.
“Henry,” I say, my voice small, my heart pounding. “That guy… he wasdefinitelyat Vince’s condo, one of those parties with all the shady people. What if Vince sent him? What if he knows we’re here?”
My eyes burn, tears threatening, and I hate how scared I sound, how weak.
Henry’s hand finds mine, squeezing hard, his eyes scanning the street as he pulls out.
“You did good, Little One,” Henry says, his voice steady, that Daddy edge cutting through my panic. “You spotted him, you told me. We’re clear for now, and I’m not letting anyone get near you.” He glances at me, his dark eyes fierce but soft. “You’re safe with me, Bodie. Ipromise.”
I nod, swallowing hard, but the fear’s still there, tangled with something deeper, something I’ve been holding back. I clutch Billy’s sunglasses, my voice barely a whisper.
