Page 68 of Daddy Defender
Bodie
“Come on, come on, come on, Shred,” I say, my voice full of tension and my eyes darting from side to side, making sure that I’m not about to crash into anything.
I need to move fast.
But not so fast that I don’t make it out alive…
The pier’s lights are a fading blur in Shred’s rearview mirror, the van’s engine roaring like my heart as I floor it down the coastal road.
Bullets whizzed past me back there, sharp cracks slicing the night, and my hands are still shaking on the wheel, gripping so tight my knuckles glow white under the dashboard’s dim light.
The ocean’s a dark churn to my left, waves pounding like they’re cheering me on, but all I can think about is Henry—my Daddy—back at the pier, facing Vince and those horrible cartel men.
I did my part, showed my face like we planned, drew Vince out, but now I’m speeding toward the safety checkpoint, and every mile feels like I’m abandoning him, even though I know it’s what he wanted…
“Get it together, Bodie,” I whisper, my voice wobbly, my Little side clawing for comfort.
Poot and Billy are on the passenger seat, their googly eyes staring like they’re telling me to be brave.
I swerve around a bend, Shred’s tires squealing, the safety checkpoint just a few miles ahead—a secluded pull-off near a dune, hidden to the side of the road, where Henry said to wait.
My sketchpad’s sliding around the dash, and I wish I could grab it, draw the fear away, but there’s no time. Not with the echo of gunfire still ringing in my ears.
The road’s empty, just me and the night, but my heart’s pounding like I’m paddling into a monster wave. I keep checking the mirrors, half-expecting headlights to flare behind me, Vince’s men or worse, the cartel, hot on my tail.
Henry’s voice crackles through the radio clipped to my hoodie, his growl steady despite the chaos I know he’s in.
“Bodie, you clear?” Henry says. “Talk to me, Little One.”
I fumble for the radio, my fingers clumsy, and press the button.
“I’m clear, Daddy,” I say, trying to sound strong, but my voice is small, all Little and scared. “Driving to the checkpoint. No one’s following… I think.” I glance at the mirrors again, my stomach twisting. “A-a-a-a-are you okay? It sounded bad back there.”
“Focus on driving, sweet boy,” Henry says, his Daddy tone firm but warm, grounding me. “We’ve got this. You did good. Get to the checkpoint, hide in the back, and wait for me. No heroics, got it?”
“Got it,” I mumble, my Little side clinging to his rules, needing them like a life raft. “Promise you’ll come back, Daddy.”
“Promise, baby boy,” Henry says, and I hear the steel in his voice, the Night Ops Daddy who doesn’t break vows. “Now focus on the road ahead. Stay safe.”
The radio goes quiet, and I’m alone again, just me, Shred, and my stuffies.
The checkpoint’s close now, a dirt pull-off tucked behind a dune, invisible from the main road.
I ease off the gas, turning onto the sandy track, Shred’s shocks creaking as I park under the dune’s shadow. I kill the engine, the silence heavy, broken only by the distant waves and my own ragged breathing.
My Little side surges, scared and small, and I scramble into the back, grabbing Poot and Billy, hugging them tight.
“Okay, guys,” I whisper, tucking myself into my nest of blankets and pillows, my voice trembling. “We’re gonna be good for Daddy, right? We wait here, all safe and sound, like he said.”
I nuzzle Poot’s sweet face to mine, Billy’s sunglasses glinting in the faint moonlight slipping through the curtains. I pull my romper from my bag, slipping it on under Henry’s t-shirt, the soft fabric hugging me like a hug from my Little Space. It helps a little, but the fear’s still there, coiling tight, a riptide pulling at my heart.
I curl up, my stuffies pressed against my chest, and try to breathe, slow and deep, like Henry taught me. My Little side wants to hide, to stay small and safe, but my grown-up side knows what’s at stake.
Henry, Cole, Connor—they’re outnumbered, fighting cartel pros, and Vince’s there, that snake who used my Little side against me, who wants me dead.
I picture Henry’s scar, his dark eyes, the way he held me on the beach, promising we’d figure it all out. I can’t lose him, not now, not when I’m falling so hard I can barely paddle straight.
A low rumble cuts through the quiet, and my eyes snap open, heart lurching.
