Page 70 of Daddy Defender
My Little side clings to them, to Henry’s promise, but my grownup side summons that Mavericks fire, that surfer boy who doesn’t wipe out.
Henry’s fighting a war for me, and I’ve got to hold up my end, be his good boy, wait like he said. But it’s hard, knowing he’s out there, bullets flying, more enemies closing in.
I peek out the window again, the road empty now, the dune’s shadow cloaking Shred.
My romper’s snug, my stuffies are warm, and I try to sink into Little Space, to let it make me brave.
“You guys believe in Daddy, right?” I ask Poot and Billy, their eyes steady, like they’re nodding. “He’s gonna win. I know he is. I believe in him. And I need you to believe with me too.”
But the fear’s real, sharper than ever.
The cartel was worse than Vince’s men—they’re monsters, the kind who don’t care about promises or love.
I think of Henry’s arms around me, his gravelly voice calling meLittle One, the way he colored dolphins with me, sparkles and all.
He’s my Daddy, my safe place, and I’m falling so deep I can’t imagine a life without him. If he doesn’t come back… if the cartel’s too much… I don’t know how I’ll keep riding the waves.
I tuck myself tighter into the blankets, my radio close, waiting for Henry’s voice, for any sign he’s okay.
My Little side hums a nursery rhyme, soft and shaky, trying to keep the fear at bay. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star…” I sing, barely a whisper, Poot and Billy my only audience.
I hope Henry’s summoning his own Mavericks moment, that Night Ops strength, that he and Cole and Connor can outsmart the cartel, take Vince down.
“Please, Daddy,” I murmur, tears slipping down my cheeks, wetting Poot’s fur. “Come back to me. We’ve got surf lessons to do.”
I cling to that promise, to the pinky swear on the beach, to the future I want—a home, roots, a life with my Daddy.
I’ve got to be brave, like I was at Mavericks, like Henry believes I am.
So I wait, hidden in Shred, my stuffies and my heart holding me together, praying my Daddy and his Guards come out on top…
Chapter 24
Henry
The intel from Bodie is not great. But I can handle it. I’ve come through worse—but the big difference today is that Cole, Connor, and I don’t have backup. It’s just the three of us, no Guard squad waiting in reserve, locked and loaded to move should we require them.
And there’s the small problem of Vince too…
The sonofabitch is sprawled on the pier’s deck, his smug face slack, blood trickling from his split lip where my fist connected.
“Lights out,” I say, balling my fist. “When you wake up, the cops will be all over your ass.”
“Fuck you!” Vince spits.
But one solid right hook, and he’s out cold, his body like a felled tree and his breathing slow.
The boat rocks beneath us, waves slamming the pilings, the air thick with cordite and the crackle of gunfire from the pier. My arm stings where his blade grazed me, but it’s nothing—a scratch compared to the fire in my gut to end this.
I grab Vince’s limp body, dragging him across the splintered wood to a timber store tucked under the pier’s edge. With a grunt, I roll him beneath the stacked planks, his body hidden in the shadows.
Vince can keep until this is done.
My focus shifts to Cole and Connor, pinned down by cartel goons, and the new SUV Bodie warned about, barreling toward us with more trouble.
“Vince’s down,” I growl into the comms, my voice steady despite the chaos. “Moving to you, Cole. Status?”
“Pinned, but holding,” Cole rumbles, his rifle barking as another goon drops. “Two left, dug in behind the crates. Connor’s got ‘em rattled.”
