Daddy Defender (Night Ops Daddies #2)

1. Bodie

Bodie

“Jeez, you have to be kidding me!” I call out, banging my fist against the steering wheel. “Don’t do this to me. Not now. Come on. You’ve got two miles left in you…”

The turn off for Sunny Ferns is a mile away, and then it’s only another mile before the beach—and the respite I need more than anything else right now. But there’s a problem…

“Please be enough gas, please be enough gas,” I say, my eyes dashing back and forth to the gas meter, each passing second making me paranoid that I’ll go too deep into the red and my van’s trusty engine will cough, splutter, and come to a total standstill. “You’ve never failed me before, Shred…”

Shred is my trusty van. We’ve been through a lot together. Shred might be old, and he’s definitely got a few bumps and scratches on the bodywork, but this sweetheart of a van has never let me down. And I’ve taken Shred on some crazy journeys, that’s for sure.

Travelling from coast to coast, beach to beach, always on the lookout for the next big wave to surf, I live the kind of life that I’ve always wanted.

I might only be twenty-three, but I’ve seen and done a lot in my time— way more than I would have done had I gone to college like my parents wanted me to.

Whatever, it’s all good.

My parents might have been mad at the time, but deep down I think they always knew that I was never going to be cut out for the whole college-career-retire-die path. That’s just not who I’ve ever been. I like to move, see new things, go where the vibes take me.

And, yeah, sometimes that means I get myself in a little bit of trouble. But that’s part of the fun of it. I’ve surfed with some pretty rad people, seen some wild sights, and always come out on the other side smiling and feeling better for the experience.

Why would I ever want to stop?

Except this time… things feel a little bit different.

“Come on… just one more… mile,” I say, grimacing as the needle on the gas meter drops down even closer to rock bottom.

We’re deep in the red zone.

Like super deep.

Like… super-super-mega-bottom-of-the-ocean deep.

You get the picture. But as I take the exit off the highway and begin what should pretty much be a chill one mile toward my stop for the night, I know that things aren’t as they should be. And I’m not just talking about the severe lack of gas in Shred’s tank.

My eyes flash up to the rearview mirror for what must be the three hundredth time in the last couple of hours.

There’s an old lady in a pale blue Tesla behind me, but apart from that it looks like there’s no one following me.

And I’m pretty certain that Tesla lady isn’t in fact connected to my ex-boyfriend…

Vince Gray.

Good looking? Yup.

One hell of a surfer? You bet.

Dangerous smuggler with a murky past? Yikes.

I met Vince a few months ago and we hit it off pretty much from the start. I mean, he’s hot as hell and loves to surf. There’s no denying either of those two things. On the face of it, we had a lot in common.

Vince seemed to genuinely like me for me . He knew I was a little different from the other surfer boys. It wasn’t just that I was extra competitive or didn’t take any crap out on the water. Vince liked the fact that I was different outside of surfing.

Being a Little is something that I don’t try and hide, it’s part of my identity.

I might be a fierce competitor on the waves, but I still love my romper, juice boxes, and milkies time too.

Oh, and not forgetting my stuffy Poot the walrus—we’ve been together ever since I was a kid, and it’s a wonder that Poot had any fur left given how long and hard I’ve snuggled him over the years.

Anyway, Vince saw all of this and was cool with it.

But then something happened… I realized just how deep Vince’s criminal activity ran. It was way more than the ‘dodgy deals’ that Vince told me about when we first met. Vince was doing the kind of deals that could land him a long sentence in prison.

And more than that, I began to see that Vince was capable of hurting people too if they didn’t fall into line with his way of doing things—even his own posse of men seemed like they were in fear of crossing him.

So… I knew that I had to get away.

But when Vince got wind of the fact that I might be about to cut and run, he used my van to make a delivery for one of his illegal smuggling deals.

I was so angry. There’s no way I would ever have given him permission to do that, and I could see from the look in his eyes that he did it on purpose to implicate me.

I was still going to leave him though. My mind was made up. I could see that while Vince might be handsome and know how to do all the fun naughty stuff really well, the reality of it is that I don’t think he’s a good person on the inside.

I’ve been travelling for a couple of days and Vince’s messages have been getting angrier and angrier by the hour. I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to achieve. But if he thinks that he can scare me back to him, he’s got another thing coming.

Now that I know I’m not being followed, I’m going to block his number and I’ll be done with him forever. Yup, just like that. And before long, he’ll be nothing but a distant memory, fading away into the sunset like the ocean.

And just as the Tesla lady passes me, I pull over at the beachside parking spot.

“We made it, Shred!” I laugh, patting the steering wheel. “We always had faith in you, didn’t we Poot?”

I look across to the passenger seat and see Poot, sitting proud and showing off his big walrus tusks like he always does. We’re quite the team, the three of us.

Who needs a bully like Vince? Not us!

Now, it’s getting late… but I think I’ve still got time for a surf.

I can restock on gas later, see if a nearby station has a can I can use and bring to Shred.

And after that, I’m pretty sure that there’ll be a bar of some kind around here where I can plug my phone in, recharge, and grab a nice cold beer too while I’m at it.

We might only have just about made it to Sunny Ferns, but suddenly things are looking brighter than they have for quite a few weeks…

I arrive at the dive bar after a quick gas stop—luckily I just made it to the run down old gas station in time. It was seriously a close call, that’s for sure.

Anyway, now it’s time to at least try to relax…

The dive bar smells like stale beer and salty air, the kind of place where the jukebox hums old rock tunes and the floor sticks to your sneakers.

I don’t hate it. Far from it. I actually kind of like these types of places, and I definitely prefer them to a super-smart formal vibe. Once a surfer boy, always a surfer boy, right?

I decided against a surf in the end, figuring that I wouldn’t be able to relax until I’d gotten a decent night’s sleep and kicked Vince out of my life for good. Plus, the waves didn’t seem that great either, which would have only made me more frustrated.

I slip inside the bar, my mind still wandering back to what happened between me and Vince. I know he’s a bad guy, and I’ve seen glimpses of what he’s capable of too. It’s going to take a while for me to be able to actually relax and feel safe, that’s for sure.

Logically I know Vince won’t be here, and no one followed me either. But mentally I’m still in flight mode…

Blend in, Bodie. Just blend in.

I tug my faded denim jacket tighter around me, hoping my messy bun and oversized sunglasses scream “nobody special” rather than “boy on the run.”

The bar’s half-empty—a couple of grizzled locals nursing whiskeys, a bartender wiping glasses with a rag that’s seen better days.

I’m safe enough, for now.

I slide into a corner booth, the cracked red vinyl creaking under me. The waitress, a woman with a peroxide-blonde ponytail and a bored expression, drops a frosty beer in front of me without a word.

“Thanks,” I say, nodding my head.

The waitress doesn’t say anything back. I guess that’s the vibe here. Well, I can live with it.

I wrap my fingers around the cold bottle, the condensation grounding me. One sip, then another. The bitter tang steadies my nerves, but I can’t shake the feeling of eyes on me…

I glance up, scanning the room. Nobody’s staring.

Just paranoia, right? Still, my skin prickles.

My mind flashes back to Vince once more, his voice sharp as a blade in my memory…

“No one escapes me, Bodie. Not ever. You think you can just walk away?”

He’d said it a week ago, his green eyes glinting with that mix of charm and menace that used to make my stomach flip in all the wrong ways.

We were in his beachfront condo, the one paid for with what I now know was very dirty money.

I’d found a ledger in his desk—names, dates, shipments.

Not just merchandise or knockoff watches, but serious stuff.

The kind that gets people killed. When I confronted him, he laughed, said I was in too deep to leave. He said that he’d make sure of it.

Urgh . Why did I ever get involved?

A shiver runs down my spine, and I grip the beer tighter.

Focus, Bodie.

I fish my phone from my bag, the screen lighting up with a dozen unread messages. Vince’s name glows like a warning sign. I’ve been avoiding them, driving with Shred and Poot, trying to outrun his threats. My thumb hovers over the block button...

One tap, and he’s gone. Out of my life. I can almost taste the freedom.

Then a new message pings, and my breath catches…

VINCE : I know you’re in Sunny Ferns, babe. You think you can hide? I’m coming for you. You’ll pay for running. And once I’m done, you won’t ever run away from me again…

My heart lurches into my throat. Sunny Ferns. How does he know?

I glance around the bar, half-expecting to see his smug face in the shadows. The locals are still at their drinks, the jukebox droning on.

No Vince. No henchmen. That’s something at least.

But my pulse races, my fingers trembling as I clutch the phone.

Is it a bluff? He’s always been good at mind games, twisting my fears until I doubted myself. But this feels too specific. Too real.

I down the rest of my beer, the bottle clinking against the table as I set it down hard.

Get out, Bodie. Now.

I need to move, find a gas station, fill Shred’s tank, and keep going. I know that wasn’t my plan, but things change. That’s how I live. It just so happens that this time the change is happening out of necessity rather than my own choice.

“What the hell should I do?” I whisper under my breath, my shoulders tense from the message. “This can’t be happening…”

I could maybe head north, lose myself in some nowhere town. Yeah, that could work. It really could. The last place Vince would expect me to go is to somewhere nowhere near the surf. I could totally do that. And after a couple of months I could think about getting back to the surf life.

“Okay. It’s time to be a big boy,” I say. “I’ve got this.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder, tucking Poot’s tusk under the flap so he’s safe. My Little side aches for his comfort, for a juice box and a nap, but there’s no time for that. Not when Vince’s words echo in my head… You’ll pay.

I’m halfway to the door when a shadow looms in front of me. Not Vince—someone bigger, broader, with a presence that fills the room like a storm rolling in.

I freeze, my hand instinctively clutching my bag.

He’s tall, maybe six-foot-two, with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass and dark eyes that seem to see right through me. His black T-shirt stretches over muscles that scream “don’t mess with me,” and there’s a faint scar above his left eyebrow, like he’s fought battles I can’t imagine.

“Excuse me,” I mutter, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, gravelly, like he’s not used to small talk. “You okay?”

I bristle, stepping back.

“I’m fine. Just leaving.”

My tone’s sharper than I mean, but I’m done with strange guys thinking they can swoop in. Vince was charming once, too. And I’m not going to fall for that kind of act ever again. No way, no how, it’s just not happening.

I finally look up and see his eyes narrow, not angry but… assessing . Like he’s reading every twitch of my body.

“You don’t look fine,” he says. “You’ve been checking the door every five seconds.”

My cheeks burn.

Am I that obvious?

“Mind your own business,” I snap, trying to sidestep him. But he shifts, not blocking me exactly, just making it clear he’s not done.

“The name’s Henry,” he says, hands in his pockets, casual but deliberate. “I’m not here to hassle you. But you’re spooked. I know the signs. I know when someone needs help.”

Spooked. The word hits too close.

I want to tell him to back off, to leave me and Poot and Shred to figure this out.

But there’s something in Henry’s voice—not pity, not charm, but a quiet certainty that makes my defenses waver. It’s like he’s seen worse than whatever’s chasing me and lived to tell about it.

“I’m good, don’t worry about me,” I say. “I’m quite alright by myself, thanks.”

Henry tilts his head, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” Henry says, his voice low and calm. “But trouble’s got a way of finding people who run alone.”

My stomach twists.

He’s right, and I hate it.

Vince’s message burns in my mind, and the bar suddenly feels too small, too exposed. I don’t know this Henry guy, and I definitely don’t trust him, but the weight of his gaze feels like something to cling to. And I’m so tired of running.

Before I can answer, the bartender calls out, “Closing in ten!” and the locals start shuffling toward the door.

Henry doesn’t move, just watches me, waiting.

For what, I don’t know. A decision? A breakdown?

I clutch my bag tighter, Poot’s tusk poking my palm, and make a choice.

“I’m leaving,” I say, brushing past him toward the exit. “Don’t follow me. I mean that… Henry .”

But as I step into the cool night air, the parking lot dark and Shred waiting faithfully, I hear his boots crunch on the gravel behind me. Not close, not crowding, but there. Like a shadow I didn’t ask for…