Page 66 of Daddy Defender
“You’re dead,Night Ops Asshole!” Vince spits, blood dripping from his mouth. “That’s right, I know all about you now. And the boy? He’s mine!”
“He’s mine,” I growl, lunging, but a burst of gunfire forces me to dive behind a crate.
Cartel men are closing, their rounds tearing through the air, pinning me down. Vince scrambles up, bolting for cover, and I curse, my eyes flicking to Shred…
Bodie’s almost clear, the van’s taillights fading as he hits the road, but two more cartel thugs are peeling off, piling into an SUV to give chase.
“Connor, cover the exit!” I bark, popping up to fire, dropping one of the goons with a headshot. “They’re going after him!”
“Got ‘em,” Connor says, his rifle cracking. The SUV’s windshield shatters, the driver slumping, but the vehicle swerves, crashing into a stack of crates. The second man bails out, firing wildly, and Cole’s rifle answers, silencing him.
“Shred’s clear,” Connor reports, and I exhale, relief cutting through the adrenaline.
Bodie’s out, heading for the safehouse, just like we planned. But the fight’s far from over...
Vince’s ducked behind a piling, shouting to his remaining men—all cartel pros, moving to flank us. We’re outnumbered, and they’re not backing down.
“Cole, tighten the net,” I order, reloading my Glock, my mind shifting to Guard mode. “Push ‘em toward the pier’s end. Connor, keep their heads down.”
“Copy,” Cole says, moving like a ghost, his rifle picking off targets with lethal precision.
Connor’s sniper fire keeps them pinned, their return shots wild, desperate.
I break cover, advancing, using the crates and shadows to close the distance. My training kicks in—years of ops, from desert raids to jungle extractions, every move muscle memory. I spot a cartel man trying to flank Cole, and my Glock bucks, dropping him before he can fire.
But Vince’s still out there, and he’s the prize.
I catch a glimpse of him, slipping toward the pier’s far end, where the shadows are thickest. He’s trying to run, but I’m not letting him escape. Not after what he’s done to Bodie, not after his threats to his Little side.
There can be no other way.
This endstonight.
“Vince’s bolting,” I say into the comms, my voice steady despite the chaos. “I’m on him. Cole, hold the line.”
“Watch your six,” Cole warns, his rifle barking as another goon drops. “They’re not quitting.”
I move fast, weaving through the pier’s maze of crates and netting, my Glock up, eyes scanning. The cartel’s fire is relentless, rounds zipping past, splintering wood.
I dive behind a stack of barrels, catching my breath, my mind flashing to Bodie…
My darling boy’s face on the beach, his tears, his confession—I’m falling for you. My chest aches, my Daddy side roaring to protect him, to come back to him. He’s safe now, speeding toward the safe point we agreed, but I need to finish this to keep him that way.
A shadow moves—Vince, darting for a boat moored at the pier’s end.
I sprint, closing the gap, but a cartel goon steps into my path, his submachine gun blazing. I roll, rounds chewing the ground, and fire back, catching him in the shoulder.
Vince staggers, but another’s on me, his knife flashing. I block his wrist, twisting hard, bones snapping, and drive my knee into his gut. The thug crumples, but the delay’s enough—Vince’s almost at the boat.
“Connor, pin him! Do it! Now!” I shout, but a burst of gunfire from the remaining goons forces Connor to shift focus, his rifle covering Cole.
I’m on my own, and Vince’s slipping away.
I charge, ignoring the bullets, my focus razor-sharp. Vince’s climbing onto the boat, his knife in hand, his eyes wild with desperation.
I leap, tackling him onto the deck, the boat rocking under us. Vince slashes, the blade grazing my arm, blood welling, but I don’t feel it. I slam my fist into his face, once, twice, his head snapping back.
Vince’s tough, I’ll give him that.
