Page 71 of Daddy Defender
“Keep them busy,” I say, crouching low as I hustle along the pier’s edge.
Bullets zip past, splintering wood, but I weave through the shadows, my training kicking in—move fast, stay low, be the ghost they never see.
Bodie’s voice echoes in my head, his shaky warning about the SUV, his Little side brave as hell relaying intel like he’s a pro. My heart swells, but I shove this down. It isn’t the time for romance. This is the moment for cold, hard action. My boy is safe at the checkpoint, waiting for me, and I’ll burn this pier to ash before I let anyone touch him.
I reach Cole’s position, sliding behind a rusted shipping crate.
He’s a wall of muscle, his rifle trained on the goons’ cover, his dark eyes calm but lethal. Connor’s sniper fire cracks from the warehouse roof, keeping the cartel pinned. The two remainingmen are pros, using the crates for cover, their submachine guns spitting bursts that chew the air. But they’re rattled, sloppy, and we’re Guards—we eat chaos for breakfast.
“Pincer move,” I say, low and sharp, locking eyes with Cole. He nods, reading my play. “I’ll flank left, draw their fire. You push right. Connor, drop the one on the furthest crate when he pops.”
“Copy,” Connor says, his voice cold steel through the comms. “His ass is mine.”
Cole shifts, ready to move, and I break left, sprinting across open ground, my boots pounding the gravel. A goon spots me, his MP5 swinging, but I dive behind a piling, rounds shredding the wood above my head.
Cole uses the distraction, rolling right, his rifle barking.
One cartel thug screams, clutching his chest, collapsing in a heap. Connor’s shot follows, a cleanthwip, and the second man’s head snaps back, his body crumpling.
The pier falls quiet, save for the waves and my own pulse hammering in my ears.
“Clear,” Cole says, standing, his rifle still up, scanning for threats.
“Clear,” Connor confirms, his scope sweeping the lot.
I exhale, my gun lowering, but my eyes flick to the road.
Bodie’s warning burns—more cartel men, inbound.
“SUV’s coming,” I say, moving to Cole’s side, checking my mag. Half-full, enough for what’s next. “We hit them from the jump, no chances taken. Pincer again—Connor, high ground, Cole, you’re with me.”
Cole grunts approval, slinging his rifle and drawing his sidearm, a Desert Eagle that could punch through steel.
We take position behind a stack of barrels, the pier’s entrance in our sights. Connor’s voice crackles through…
“Visual on the SUV, one klick out, moving fast. Four tangos inside, armed heavy.”
“Pre-fire early, so they don’t think they’re walking into a trap. We need them to think that we’re still shooting it out with the others. Then light ‘them up when they enter through the gate,” I order, my voice cold, all Night Ops focus. “No survivors.”
The SUV’s growl grows louder, its blacked-out frame tearing down the coastal road, no headlights, a predator in the night. My mind flashes to Bodie, curled up in Shred with Poot and Billy, his Little side trusting me to come back.
I grip my gun tighter, my Daddy side roaring to protect him, to end this threat for good. We open fire, creating the illusion that there are still cartel men alive. The SUV screeches into the lot, skidding to a stop twenty yards out, doors flying open.
“Now!” I bark, breaking cover, gun blazing.
Cole’s Desert Eagle booms beside me, rounds punching through the SUV’s frame. Connor’s sniper fire joins, a relentlessthwip-thwip, shattering the windshield, dropping the driver before he can bail.
The other three men try to spill out, weapons up, but we’re too fast. My shots catch one in the chest, Cole’s blow another’s arm clean off, and Connor’s rifle finishes the last, a headshot that paints the SUV’s door red.
The vehicle’s a smoking wreck, bodies slumped, the night reclaiming its quiet.
“Clear,” Connor says again, his voice steady.
“Damn fine work,” Cole mutters, reloading, a rare grin cracking his face.
I nod, my chest heaving, but there’s no time to celebrate…
Vince’s still under that timber store, and the cops need to be in play before he slips away. I hustle back to the pier’s edge, sliding under the planks where I stashed him.
