Page 62 of Daddy Defender
My Daddy’s eyes snap to mine, dark and intense, his jaw tightening like I’ve just suggested jumping into a rip current. He stops too, towering over me, his hands on his hips, all Daddy authority.
“Bodie, no,” Henry says, his voice low, firm, like it’s not up for debate. “You’re staying safe. That’s the plan. Cole, Connor, and me—we’ve got this. Vince’s ego will bring him out without you playing bait.”
I shake my head, my surfer boy defiance flaring.
“You don’t get it, Daddy,” I say, sassy and stubborn. “Vince’s not just cocky—he’s fixated. He won’t trust his guys to handle me, not after I ran. If he sees Shred but not me, he might bolt, or worse, send his cartel buddies to sniff around. But if I’m there, even just for a second, he’ll stay. I know him. And I can tell that you know I’m right about this too.” My voice cracks, fear creeping in, but I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. “I can do this. Forus.”
Henry’s eyes narrow, searching mine, and I see the war inside him—his Daddy need to protect me clashing with his Guard instincts to end this clean and in one operation.
Henry steps closer, his hand cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing my freckles, grounding me.
“Little One,” Henry says, his voice softer now, but still edged with steel. “You’re brave as hell, but this is my fight. I’m not putting you in the crosshairs. Vince’s desperate, and desperate men don’t think straight. Neither do cartels.”
I swallow hard, my heart twisting. I know he’s right, but the thought of sitting back, waiting, not knowing if he’ll come back—it’s worse than facing Vince myself.
“Please, Daddy,” I whisper, my hand covering his, my sketchpad dangling forgotten. “I trust you, but I can’t just hide. Let me help. I need to. And quit being so stubborn and at least admit that I’m right. Me being there will increase our chances. And that’s what you want, right?”
Henry exhales, long and slow, his eyes never leaving mine. For a moment, I think he’ll shut me down again, but then he nods, just once, like he’s made a decision he doesn’t love.
“Alright,” Henry says, his voice gruff. “You show your face—briefly, from a distance, where Connor’s got eyes on you. Then you’re back in Shred, and you drive straight to the safehouse. No arguments, no heroics. Got it?”
I nod, relief flooding me, even as my stomach knots.
“Got it, Daddy,” I say, my Little side clinging to his rules, my grownup side knowing this is the only way. “I’ll be quick. In and out, like a ninja surfer.”
I force a grin, trying to lighten the mood, and Henry chuckles, low and rough, ruffling my hair.
“Damn ninja surfer,” Henry mutters, his lips twitching. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweet boy.”
But Henry’s eyes are warm, proud, and I feel it—that trust, growing stronger, binding us tighter.
I step closer, my toes brushing his boots, and look up at him, the ocean breeze tugging at my hair.
“When this is over,” I say, my voice steadier now. “When Vince’s gone, I’m teaching you to surf. No excuses. You’re gonna ride a wave, Daddy, even if I have to drag you out there myself.”
I poke Henry’s strong, solid chest, teasing, my Little side bubbling up to keep the fear at bay.
Henry laughs, the sound deep and real, echoing over the waves.
“Me? Surf?” Henry says, raising an eyebrow, his scar catching the light. “I’m a Night Ops man, not a beach bum. I’d sink that board faster than you can saywipeout.”
But Henry’s grinning, his hand catching mine, squeezing gently, and I giggle, the tension easing just a bit.
“You’ll love it,” I say, bouncing on my toes, my sketchpad swinging. “I’ll pick a baby wave, nothing scary. Poot and Billy will cheer you on. Deal?”
I stick out my pinky, all Little and hopeful, and he shakes his head, amused, but hooks his pinky with mine, sealing the promise.
“Deal,” Henry replies, his voice warm, but his eyes hold mine, serious. “But only if you promise to listen tonight, Bodie. No going off-script. You follow my rules, or no surf lessons.”
I nod, my pinky still linked with his, my heart swelling.
“Promise, Daddy,” I say, and for a moment, it’s just us, the beach, the waves, a future I can almost touch. But deep down, the fear’s still there, coiling tight, a riptide I can’t ignore.
As we start walking again, the sand shifting under my feet, my grownup side takes over, heavy with worry…
This is serious. The kind of serious that you don’t walk away from if things go wrong.
The cartel’s involved now, not just Vince and his men. Cole’s message last night made that clear—they want Vince to clean up his mess, or he’s dead… and I’m the mess.
