Page 53 of Daddy Defender
Bodie holds up the walrus, and Richie giggles, pulling a panda stuffy from his tote.
“This is Fizz,” Richie says, plopping down next to Bodie. “Wanna play? We could make a stuffie beach party!” His energy’s infectious, and Bodie nods, his Little side perking up as they start arranging cushions like sand dunes.
I catch Cole’s eye, and he smirks, his Daddy side proud of Richie’s warmth.
“Let’s talk,” I say, jerking my head toward the kitchen. Cole and Connor follow, leaving the Littles to their game, their giggles a soft counterpoint to the storm brewing in my head.
We hunker down around the rickety kitchen table, the air thick with purpose.
Connor unrolls a tablet, pulling up drone feeds—grainy shots of Sunny Ferns, towns along the coast, red dots marking enemy positions.
“They’re tightening the net,” Connor says, tapping the screen. “Safehouse is clear for now, but they’re patrolling the coastal road. Vince’s calling shots from a distance, probably holed up in a safehouse of his own.”
Cole leans back, arms crossed, his bulk making the chair creak.
“This asshole’s scared,” Cole says. “He knows Bodie’s a liability, could spill his laundering scam to the feds. And that’s got him scared shitless that the cartel will cut their losses with him—and his throat too. He’s paying big for these mercs, but he won’t show his face unless we force him.”
“Exactly,” I say, my voice low, a plan forming. “We draw Vince out. Make him come for us personally. He’s cocky, thinks he’s untouchable. We use that, set a trap, and end this.” My fists clench, thinking of Bodie’s fear, his trust in me. “No more running. We take the fight to him.”
Cole’s eyes glint, a slow grin spreading.
“Sounds familiar,” Cole says, and I know he’s thinking of Damascus, five years back.
“Damascus playbook,” I say, nodding. “We leak Bodie’s location, make it look like he’s alone, vulnerable. Vince’s ego won’t lethim delegate—he’ll want to handle Bodie himself. We set up at the old pier, plenty of cover, choke points. Cole, you and me on the ground, Connor on overwatch with the rifle. When Vince shows, we take him down, non-lethal if we can. Hand him to the feds with enough dirt to bury him.”
Connor’s eyes narrow, calculating.
“Pier’s good,” Connor says. “I can perch on the warehouse roof, clear sightlines. But we need bait that screams Bodie without putting him in the crosshairs.”
“His van,” I say. “Shred’s his signature. We park it at the pier, make it look like he’s camping out. Vince’s knows it’s his. Bodie stays here, locked down, while we handle the rest.”
Cole grunts, approval in his tone.
“Risky, but solid,” Cole says. “I’ll get my contacts to spread the leak—local bars, surf shops, places Vince’s men will hear it. We move tomorrow night, before they tighten the net further.” He glances at the living room, where Richie’s making Fizz “surf” a cushion, Bodie laughing. “Is your boy handling this okay?”
“He’s braver than he knows,” I say, my voice softening. “But he’s scared. Vince’s got him twisted up, threatening his Little side. All the bullying shit you’d expect. I’m keeping him steady, but he needs this to be over.”
My Daddy side stirs, protective, fierce, and I know I’d burn the world to keep him safe.
Connor packs up the tablet, his voice low.
“We’ll get it done,” Connor say. “Vince’s cartel pals won’t save him.”
Connor stands, ready to move, and Cole nods, clapping my shoulder again.
“Let’s wrap this,” Cole says. “Richie’s got an early bedtime, and I don’t want him cranky.” His grin’s half-teasing, but I see the Daddy in him, balancing mission and care.
We head back to the living room, where Bodie and Richie are deep in their stuffy game, cushions scattered like a beach party gone wild.
Richie’s giggling, making Fizz “dance,” while Bodie’s got Billy narrating in a goofy voice. It’s pure Little Space, and my chest tightens, seeing Bodie’s joy despite the danger.
The darling boy is mine to protect, mine to cherish, and I’m not letting Vince steal this from him.
“Time to roll, Richie,” Cole says, his voice gentle but firm. Richie pouts but hops up, hugging Fizz. He runs to Bodie, throwing his arms around him.
“Bye, Bodie! Let’s play again soon, okay?” Richie says, his eyes bright.
“Totally,” Bodie says, smiling, hugging his new friend back. “Billy’s gonna want a rematch. And Poot too!”
