Chapter 10
Connor
“Fuck. Mr. G needs to get these damn safehouses freshened up,” I groan, unimpressed.
The safehouse shower is a lukewarm trickle, barely enough to rinse off the sweat and tension from last night’s chaos. I stand under the spray, my hands braced against the cracked tiles, letting the water run over my shoulders.
It’s early, the sun just creeping through the shuttered windows, and my mind’s already churning. Luke’s still asleep in the bedroom—or so I assume—curled up with that damn pelican stuffy, probably dreaming of his big scoop.
I can’t shake the image of him last night, all flushed and sassy, calling me “Bossyguard” with that bratty spark in his eyes. It’s got me twisted up, torn between wanting to protect him and wanting to put him in his place.
I have made one very clear decision, though.
I’m letting him keep chasing this story, but only on my terms. Luke’s reckless, stubborn as hell, but I can’t deny the fire in him.
Luke’s not just some journalist chasing clicks—he’s after truth, justice, the kind of shit that matters. The world needs more people like Luke… people willing to dive into the muck and drag the monsters into the light. I admire that, even if it makes my job a nightmare.
So, yeah, I’ll let him investigate, but he’s following every order I give, no questions, no backtalk.
My phone buzzes on the sink, Cole’s latest update. I reach over and have a quick scene… more dirt on Haynes’s Panama meetings, names of shell companies matching the ones Luke’s probably hiding in that backpack.
“Interesting,” I mutter. “This Haynes asshole thinks he’s got the world fooled. Time’s running out though, you sonofabitch.”
I shut off the shower, the water cutting to a drip, and grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist. It’s barely big enough to cover me, but it’ll do. I’m about to re-read Cole’s message properly up close when a floorboard creaks in the main room, sharp and deliberate.
My instincts kick in, every muscle tensing.
That’s no settling house.
That’s Luke, trying to pull a fast one…
I charge out of the bathroom, water still dripping down my chest, and catch him at the front door, his hand on the knob, backpack slung over one shoulder.
Luke freezes, his green-blue eyes wide, Swift’s orange beak poking out of his bag like a damn accomplice. He’s dressed—jeans, sneakers, a loose tee—like he’s ready to bolt into West Quay’s underbelly for another shady meet.
“Going somewhere, Little Scoop?” I growl, crossing my arms, the towel clinging to my hips. My voice is low, dangerous, and I can see his knees wobble, but his jaw sets, that defiant streak flaring.
“I—I was just…” Luke stammers, his cheeks flushing pink, but he doesn’t back down. “I have a lead, Connor. A new source. I wasn’t going to tell you because you’d just lock me in again.”
My blood boils, a mix of anger and that damn Daddy instinct that wants to both protect him and teach him a lesson.
“You’re sneaking out? After last night?” I bark.
“After shooters tried to take you out in a hotel lobby?” I step closer, towering over him, and he backs up, his shoulder hitting the door.
“I told you, Luke, no solo outings. No sneaking off. You’re on a cartel hit list, and you think you can just waltz out there like it’s a game? ”
The boy’s eyes flash, all fire and sass.
“It’s not a game! It’s my job, Connor!” Luke says, stomping his feet. “I’m this close to cracking Haynes’s operation, and I’m not letting you or anyone else stop me. I don’t need your permission to do what I do best.”
I clench my jaw, my patience fraying.
“What you do best is get yourself in trouble,” I snap. “I’m letting you chase this story, Luke, but only if you follow my orders. Every single one, no questions. You think I’m here to ruin your big break? I’m here to keep you alive so you can write it.”
Luke crosses his arms, his pout full-blown, and I swear it takes everything in me not to grab him right then.
“You’re not my boss, Connor,” he says, his voice trembling but defiant. “You’re my bodyguard, not my Daddy. I’m a journalist, not some Little who needs to be given juice and put in a romper before my nap. And if I was, you’d be the last Daddy alive to do it!”
That’s it.
Enough is enough.
The Daddy in me snaps, the line between Guard and protector blurring.
“You’re wrong about that,” I say, my voice dropping to a growl that makes his breath hitch.
“You’re reckless, and it’s gonna get you killed.
I admire your guts, Luke, I do. The world needs journalists like you, digging up the truth, taking down bastards like Haynes.
But you’re not doing it alone, and you’re sure as hell not doing it behind my back. ”
The boy’s lips part, like he’s ready to argue, but I see the flicker of fear in his eyes, the reality of last night sinking in. He’s scared, even if he won’t admit it, and that only fuels my resolve.
“You wanna be a big boy and chase this story?” I continue, stepping closer, my bare chest inches from him.
“Fine. But you do it my way. No more secrets, no more sneaking out. You tell me about this new source, the flash drive, the text—everything. Or I’m locking this door and you’re not going anywhere until I call your boss and tell you that it’s all over. ”
Luke’s cheeks flush deeper, and I can see his Little side wrestling with his journalist side, that pout trembling like he’s torn between throwing a tantrum and giving in.
“You can’t stop me,” Luke mutters, but it’s weak, and his eyes dart to the side, like he’s calculating his next move.
I lean in, my voice low and firm.
“Try me, Little Scoop,” I growl. “Push me one more time, and you’ll see what happens when you disobey a Daddy who’s trying to keep you safe.”
Luke’s breath catches, his eyes locked on mine, and for a second, I think he’s gonna bolt, door or no door. But then he squares his shoulders, that stubborn streak kicking in.
“I’m not telling you anything,” he says, his voice shaking but defiant. “This is my story, Connor. Mine. And I’m not letting you take it away.”
That’s the last straw.
I’m all done talking.
I grab his wrist, gentle but firm, and pull him away from the door, his backpack slipping to the floor with a thud.
“Safeword,” I bark, knowing full well that Luke will know exactly what this means.
“What?” Luke baulks, his eyes betraying him.
“You heard me,” I growl.
“Tortilla,” Luke replies, his cheeks flushed red and his pupils dilated—the boy knows what’s about to happen and his body does too.
“Little Scoop is going to get a big spanking,” I say, guiding him to the couch. “You’re gonna learn what happens when you put yourself in danger, Luke. You wanna be a big boy? Then you’re gonna take the consequences like one.”
“Poo!” Luke says, seemingly all out of journalistic smarts. “You’ll probably miss my butt seeing as how clumsy you are!”
“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Seems like the brat has come out to play. Well, if that’s the way you want it.”
With that, I toss Luke over my lap and waste no time in yanking his trousers down toward his ankles.
His briefs are all bunched up between his cheeks—I could probably give him a perfectly decent spanking with this much flesh already exposed, but something tells me that Luke is going to need the full experience for this to sink in all the way.
“Down!” I roar, roughly pulling the thin cotton briefs down to his ankles and exposing his round, soft bottom.
“Urgh. You’re an animal!” Luke says, his voice a mixture of fury and low-key excitement.
“You don’t sass your guard like that,” I bellow, landing the first spank on his left cheek. “You show respect.”
I land another spank on his right cheek, my hands immediately making an impression on his pure-white bottom.
“Owww!” Luke cries, biting his lip as I follow up with a quick double-spank on each cheek. “Whatever.”
“Whatever?” I laugh. “Well how about this?”
I proceed to lock Luke in position and bring my hand down on his rapidly heated buttocks six more times on each cheek, his cries of pain now in control and his sassy backtalk nowhere to be seen.
“You. Will. Behave. And. You. Will. Listen. To. Me,” I say, timing each word with a spank. “Is. That. Understood?’
“Sir, yes, sir,” Luke says, his voice now quiet as his red ass glows back at me.
For a brief moment I wonder if I catch a glimpse of Luke’s cock twitching and hardening from the spanks. Damn, that’s one hell of a thought. But this isn’t about sex—this is about teaching a naughty boy a lesson he will not forget any time soon.
“Good. I think we can agree that you have taken your discipline well,” I say. “And now it’s time to make sure that my Little Scoop gets his hot booty all nice and cool. Or as cool as can be expected…”
Luke’s still trembling as I grab my muscle cooling cream from the refrigerator, the tube cool in my hand, and sit beside him, keeping my towel in place.
He’s curled up, his eyes wide but softer now, the defiance melting into something vulnerable. My Daddy side’s still humming, but it’s gentler now, focused on taking care of him…
“You okay, Little Scoop?” I ask, my voice low, soothing.
I squeeze a dollop of cream into my palm, the minty scent filling the air, and gently rub it into his skin, my hands careful, steady. Luke flinches at first, then relaxes, his body softening under my touch.
“Yeah,” Luke whispers, his voice small, almost shy. “I… I’m sorry, Connor. I just… this story’s everything to me.”
I nod, keeping my hands gentle, my Daddy side fully in control.
“I know it is,” I say. “And I’m not here to take it away. I admire you, Luke—your fire, that burning drive to make the a difference. You’re out here trying to make the world better, and that’s rare. But you can’t do it if you’re dead. You get that, right?”
The well spanked Little nods, his eyes glistening, and I see his Little side peeking through, all soft and needy.
“I get it,” Luke says. “But I’m scared. The cartel, the hit list… it’s a lot.”
“I know,” I say, my hand stilling on his skin. “That’s why you’ve gotta trust me. No more secrets. Tell me about the flash drive, the text, the list. Let me help you.”
Luke hesitates, his lips parting, then closing.
I can see the war in his eyes—journalist versus Little, trust versus fear.
Finally, he sighs, his shoulders slumping.
“Okay,” Luke says, barely above a whisper. “The flash drive… it’s got emails, bank records, maybe more. I…um… haven’t cracked it yet. And the text… it told me to back off Haynes, or I’d regret it.”
My gut twists, but I keep my face calm, nodding.
“Good boy,” I say, and his cheeks flush again, that Little side responding to the praise. “That’s a start. We’ll figure out the rest together, but you don’t go behind my back again. Deal?”
“Deal,” Luke mutters, his pout creeping back, but there’s a spark of relief in his eyes, like he’s finally letting go of some of the weight.
I finish with the cream, wiping my hands on the towel, and stand, pulling him to his feet.
“Get your backpack,” I say. “We’re gonna plan your next meet, but it’s on my terms. You tell me everything—where, when, who. No more solo missions.”
Luke nods.
“Fine, Bossyguard,” Luke says, a hint of sass returning, and I can’t help but smirk.
“That’s my boy,” I say, and his eyes spark, that connection between us crackling again.
I grab my t-shirt from the couch, pulling it on, and check my phone.
Cole’s intel is waiting, and we’ve got work to do. Luke’s story is his life, but keeping him alive is mine—and I’m not letting him down, no matter how much he pushes.