Page 7 of Daddy Defender
His eyes dart to the door again, and I catch a glimpse of something poking out of his bag—a stuffy, maybe a walrus, its tusk worn from years of love. A Little? I can’t say for sure. But it seems too much of a coincidence. I mean, how often do I see boys bring stuffies to bars?
My chest tightens. I’ve always known I’m a Daddy, but finding a Little who can handle my life? Damn near impossible. Yet here he is, scared and stubborn, stirring something in me I thought I’d buried.
I set my beer down, the decision made before I can overthink it.
He’s halfway to the door, his sneakers squeaking on the sticky floor.
I move, cutting through the bar with long strides, my boots heavy against the wood.
The bartender glances up, but I wave him off. This isn’t about trouble—not yet. It’s about making sure he’s okay.
“Hey,” I call out, keeping my voice low, steady, as I close the distance. He freezes, his hand on the door, his shoulders stiff. Up close, he’s smaller than I thought, barely five-foot-four, with freckles dusting his nose and a defiance in his blue eyes that makes my blood hum. “You okay?”
He spins, his gaze snapping to mine, sharp and wary. “I’m fine. Just leaving.” His voice is all edges, like he’s daring me to push.
I don’t back off, but I keep my hands in my pockets, non-threatening. “You don’t look fine. You’ve been checking the door every five seconds.”
His cheeks flush, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “Mind your own business,” he says, trying to sidestep me. I shift, not blocking him, just enough to keep his attention.
“Name’s Henry,” I say, calm, deliberate. “I’m not here to hassle you. But you’re spooked. I know the signs.”
His eyes narrow, searching mine, and I see the war inside him—fear fighting pride. That stuffed walrus peeks out again, and I wonder what kind of Little he is, what he needs to feel safe. My Daddy side wants to pull him close, set rules, shield him from whatever’s got him running. But he’s not mine, not yet, maybe not ever.
“I don’t need a hero,” he says, lifting his chin, his voice trembling just enough to betray him. “I’m Bodie, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Didn’t say you did need a hero,Bodie,” I let a smirk tug at my lips, testing him. “But trouble’s got a way of finding people who run alone.”
He flinches, and I know I’ve struck gold. The bartender yells, “Closing in ten!” and the locals start moving, but I don’t budge. He’s clutching his bag like it’s a lifeline, and I feel it—the pull to step in, to be the Daddy he doesn’t know he needs.
“I’m leaving,” he says, pushing past me, his shoulder brushing mine. “Don’t follow me.”
I let him go, but as he steps into the night, I’m already moving, my boots crunching on the gravel behind him.
Not too close, not crowding, but there.
He’s in trouble, and I’m not letting him face it alone.
Not on my watch.
That’s simply not how a Night Ops Guard Daddy goes about his business…
Chapter 3
Bodie
“Hey, I said I’m not interested!” I snap, turning and unleashing on Henry even before that I’ve seen that it’s actually him.
But somehow I just knew it would be. And I’m proven right too.
There’s something about the way that Henry is looking at me, a kind of brooding, slightly dark edge… it’s hard to place exactly what it is, but it makes me think that I can’t trust him. And given my recent record with men, that’s probably a good instinct to have right now.
“You felt like you were being watched in there,” Henry says, stepping forward once pace so that he’s close but not so close that I’m going to back away from him. Not yet, anyway. “You received a message. It panicked you. Now if I saw that, you’d better bet that if anyone else was watching, they saw it too.”
“What’s your point?” I ask, kicking the dust beneath me. “Come on, Mr. Super-spy, tell me.”
“Right. Okay. Seeing as you’re asking so nicely,” Henry answers, clenching his jaw. “My point is that you’re quite clearly scared. And I mean genuinely afraid. The way you reacted to the message too… that was real. You’re involved in something that’sway out of your comfort zone. You want out. But whoever you’re dealing with, and I’m going to guess it’s a man, won’t let you out. Tell me where I’m telling lies…”
I scrunch my face up and look to the night sky above me.
