Page 52 of Daddy Defender
That creepy guy in the store shook me, and Vince’s threat still stings, but Henry’s here, and for the first time, I’m starting to believe I can face this.
Maybe even face what’s growing between us, if I can be brave enough to let him in all the way.
But one question remains… who the hell are these supposed guests?
Chapter 18
Henry
I’m pacing.
Call it a bad habit, call it may way of dealing with stress, but it’s what I do.
But the safehouse living room feels too damn small tonight, the walls closing in like a cartel hideout before a raid.
My boots are scuffing the sagging floorboards, my mind running through every angle of the shitstorm we’re in. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but I’ve got a feeling that it’s going to be harder than I could ever have expected.
Bodie’s on the couch, curled up with his sketchpad, his pencil scratching softly as he draws, Poot and Billy tucked beside him.
I can’t deny how cute he is.
Bodie’s biting his lip, his blue eyes flicking up at me every few seconds. He’s trying to stay calm, but after spotting that creep in town, he’s shaken, and I can see it in the way his fingers grip the pencil too tight.
My Daddy side wants to scoop Bodie up, pull him into my lap, but I need to stay sharp. Vince’s men—and who knows, maybe the cartel too— are out there, and we’re on borrowed time.
I check my watch—21:30.
Cole and Connor should be here any minute. The Night Ops Daddies move fast, and I need their intel, their muscle, to end this. I can trust these guys with everything, and I know for damn sure that I’d do the same for them too.
Vince’s not just a jealous ex; he’s a cartel-backed sonofabitch who thinks he can hunt Bodie to keep him quiet. But he’s about to learn what happens when you cross a Daddy Guard.
My jaw clenches, the memory of Bodie’s confession—Vince threatening to expose his Little side—burning like acid. That lowlife will pay, and I’m done playing defense.
It’s time to fight back, and fight back hard.
A low rumble cuts through the quiet—tires on gravel. I move to the window, peering through the blinds…
Cole’s blacked out SUV pulls up, headlights off, blending with the shadows. Three figures step out: Cole, all bulk and quiet menace; Connor, strong but stealthy, his sniper’s eyes scanning…and Richie, Cole’s little, all sweetness and light.
I unlock the door, giving Cole a nod as they slip inside, quick and silent, like we’ve done on a dozen ops.
“Brother,” Cole says, his voice a low rumble, clapping my shoulder. Cole looks focused, his eyes steady, but I see the weight of his own Little’s safety in his gaze. “Connor’s got the drone feeds. Shit’s hot.”
Connor grunts, dropping a duffel on the floor, his buzzcut catching the dim light.
“Enemies are circling closer,” Connor says, voice clipped. “Spotted two in town, armed, low-profile. Cartel pros, not the usual street punks.”
Connor glances at Bodie, then back to me, his eyes asking if he’s solid.
“He’s good,” I say, my voice firm, but I look at Bodie, who’s paused his sketching, his eyes wide as he takes in the newcomers. “Bodie, this is Cole, Connor, and Richie. They’re here to help.”
Richie waves, his smile bright despite the tension, his Little side shining through.
“Hi, Bodie!” Richie says, bouncing on his toes. “I love your stuffies! That duck’s got some serious style.”
Richie points at Billy’s sunglasses, and Bodie’s pout softens, a shy grin breaking through.
“Thanks,” Bodie says, clutching Billy. “He’s Billy. This is Poot.”
