Chapter 14
Connor
The engine of my sports car growls as I shift into gear, the West Quay skyline shrinking in the rearview mirror. Luke’s in the passenger seat, his backpack at his feet, Swift now free and sitting on his lap.
His laptop, sketchpad, and that flash drive he’s still guarding like it’s the Holy Grail are stuffed inside the backpack though, and I can see the tension in his shoulders, even as he tries to play it cool.
The news about Mike’s murder hit him hard—hell, it hit me hard too—and I’m not taking any chances with his safety. We’re leaving the city, heading to a safehouse an hour out, a cabin tucked in the mountains where no cartel goon’s gonna find us.
Say something.
Talk.
Put his mind at ease, damn it…
I glance at Luke, sunlight streaming through the window, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
He’s hot. All kinds of hot, in fact. And ever since the spanking, the connection between us has seemed realer by the second.
But this is about keeping him alive, not chasing old feelings, no matter how much they’re clawing at me.
My phone buzzes in the console, and I tap my earpiece, Cole’s voice crackling through.
“Connor, you on the move?” Cole says, his voice sounding close to cutting out.
“Affirmative,” I say, keeping my voice low so Luke doesn’t catch every word. “Heading to the mountain safehouse. Client with me. What’s the latest on Haynes?”
Luke glances at me, his fingers tightening around Swift’s body, and I know he’s listening, even if he’s pretending not to.
Cole’s voice is grim…
“Haynes’s ties to Mallen and Garcia are solid,” Cole says, crackling but audible.
“Panama meetings, Caymans accounts, and now we’ve got chatter about a shipment—drugs, maybe weapons—coming through West Quay next week.
Your client is poking a hornet’s nest. If he’s got evidence, it’s gonna make him a bigger target.
These people don’t fuck around. If the client is deemed a threat, it’s red alert. ”
I grunt, my jaw tightening.
“He’s got a flash drive, Cole,” I say. “Emails, bank records, possibly a trail to murder and bribery. He hasn’t handed it over yet, but I’m working on it.” I steal another glance at Luke, who’s staring out the window now, his lips pressed tight. “Anything on the hit list?”
“His name’s at the top,” Cole says, and my stomach twists. “Mallen’s enforcers are moving. You need to lock him down, Connor. No more games.”
“Copy that,” I say, ending the call and pulling the earpiece out.
I can feel Luke’s eyes on me now, curious but wary, and I know he caught enough to know it’s bad.
“Haynes’s cartel ties are deeper than we thought,” I say, keeping my tone steady.
“Drugs, weapons, the whole deal. You’re on their radar, Luke, and it’s not just about your story anymore.
We’re heading to a safehouse in the mountains, about an hour out.
We’ve used it before—secure, off the grid.
No one’s finding us there. And I mean no one. ”
The boy nods, his fingers tracing Swift’s beak, and I see the fear flicker in his eyes, but he doesn’t argue.
“Okay,” Luke says, his voice small but steady. “But what about my sources? The diner guy, the club guy—I need to meet them, Connor. This story—”
“Will wait,” I cut him off, my voice firm but not harsh. “You’re no good to anyone dead, Little Scoop. We’ll figure out a plan, but for now, we lay low and get that flash drive decrypted. You’re with me, and you’re safe. That’s what matters. That’s the play.”
Luke bites his lip, his Little side peeking through in that pout, and I feel that pull again, that urge to protect him, to make him smile.
But I keep my eyes on the road, the city giving way to winding mountain paths, the air cooling as we climb. I’ve dealt with cartels before—a dozen ops at least—and I know how dark this can get.
Cartels don’t play games.
They don’t leave loose ends.
Luke’s not just a loose end; he’s a goddamn flare, and I’m not letting them touch him.
We drive in silence for a while, the hum of the engine and the rustle of trees the only sounds.
Soon enough, the cabin comes into view, a sturdy log structure nestled in a clearing, surrounded by pines and rocky patches.
It’s isolated, secure, with a clear view of the approach—no one’s sneaking up on us here.
I pull up, cutting the engine, and turn to Luke.
“We’re here,” I say. “This place is locked down—cameras, alarms, the works. But I’m setting stricter rules now. No leaving the cabin without me. No phone calls, no texts, unless I clear them. You stay where I can see you, and you tell me everything about your sources. Understood?”
Luke rolls his eyes, a spark of sass breaking through his fear.
“Geez, rules much?” Luke sasses, his voice teasing, and I can’t help but smirk. That nickname, that playful tone—it’s his Little side, and it’s doing things to me I don’t want to admit. “You gonna make me salute you too?”
“Keep pushing, Little Scoop,” I say, my voice dropping to that Daddy growl that makes his cheeks flush. “You know what happens when you don’t listen.”
The boy’s eyes widen, a mix of defiance and something softer, and I feel that spark between us, stronger now, crackling like a live wire. He giggles, clutching Swift tighter, and hops out of the car, and runs toward the cabin, all Little energy and curiosity.
“Oh my gosh, it’s like a fairy-tale house!” Luke squeals, spinning in the gravel drive, his hair catching the sunlight. “Look at the trees, Connor! It’s so pretty!”
I climb out, leaning against the car, and watch him, my chest tightening.
He’s exploring, poking at the porch railing, peering through the windows, his excitement infectious. My Daddy side’s roaring, loving this side of him—free, joyful, all Little in the best way.
But there’s something else, too, a wave of heat that hits me hard, low and primal.
He’s twirling now, his jeans hugging his sweet cheeks, his laughter ringing out, and it’s like a punch to the gut. All those feelings from three years ago—the spark, the pull, the way his kiss lit me up—are back, but they’re bigger, hotter, more intense.
This isn’t just a mission anymore.
It’s personal, and it’s getting complicated fast.
I shake my head, trying to clear it, and stride toward the cabin, unlocking the door with a passcode.
“Inside, Little Scoop,” I call, my voice gruffer than I mean. “Time to settle in.”
He bounds up the steps, his backpack swinging, and darts inside, his eyes wide as he takes in the cabin—wooden beams, a stone fireplace, a small kitchen tucked in the corner.
“This is so cool!” Luke says, dropping his backpack on the couch and spinning around, Swift in his arms. “It’s like a secret hideout! Do we get to stay here forever?”
I chuckle, setting my gear bag on the table.
“Not forever, but long enough to figure out our next move,” I answer. “Now, sit. We need to talk rules.”
Luke pouts, flopping onto the couch, Swift in his lap.
“More rules? Come onnnn,” Luke says, but there’s a playful lilt in his voice, and I can see his Little side thriving, feeding off our dynamic.
It’s working—he’s listening, trusting. And damn if it doesn’t make me want him more, want to be the Daddy he needs, not just for this mission but for real.
I sit across from Luke, my elbows on my knees, and lay it out.
“As I said… no sneaking out, no matter what,” I say, my voice low.
“You don’t touch your phone unless I’m with you.
If you need to contact a source, we do it through a secure line.
And you start working on that flash drive with me.
I’ve got tech that can help decrypt it, but you’ve gotta let me in, Luke. No more secrets.”
The boy bites his lip, his fingers tracing Swift’s beak, and I can see the war in his eyes—journalist versus Little, trust versus fear.
“I’ll… think about it,” Luke says, his voice soft but stubborn. “I trust you, Connor, more than I did, but I need to be sure.”
I nod, letting it slide for now.
“Fair enough,” I say. “But you keep me in the loop, Little Scoop. Every step. Deal?”
“Deal,” Luke says, his pout turning into a small smile, and that spark between us flares again, hot and dangerous.
He’s so damn close, his knees brushing mine, and I can feel the heat of him, the pull of his Little side calling to my Daddy instincts.
It’s intense, way more than it was three years ago, and I know it’s not just the mission, not just the adrenaline. It’s him—his fire, his sass, his vulnerability—and it’s making me want things I shouldn’t.
Luke hops up, breaking the moment, and starts exploring again, poking at the fireplace, opening cabinets, his laughter filling the cabin.
“This place is super-awesome!” Luke says, spinning to face me, his eyes bright. “Can we make s’mores later? Please, Mr. Bossy?”
I laugh, the sound rough but real, and stand, crossing my arms.
“S’mores, huh? Be a good boy, and we’ll see,” I say. My voice is teasing, but my body’s humming with that wave of lust again, watching him bounce around, all carefree and Little.
It’s the situation, I tell myself—the danger, the isolation, the stakes—but I know it’s more.
It’s Luke, and it’s always been Luke, ever since that kiss.
I grab my gear bag, pulling out a laptop and a secure comms unit, and set them up on the table.
“Get settled,” I say, my voice gruffer now, trying to keep my head in the game. “We’ve got work to do. That flash drive’s not gonna decrypt itself.”
Luke giggles, flopping back onto the couch, Swift in his arms.
“Okay, okay, let’s do it,” Luke says, his voice suddenly quietly determined, and I feel that heat again, that pull.
This is getting complicated, and I know it.
But as I watch Luke, his smile lighting up the cabin, I’m starting to think I don’t care.
Mission or not, Luke’s mine to protect—and maybe, just maybe, mine to keep.
But I wasn’t kidding when I warned him about the rules. Any infringements will be dealt with, and dealt with in ways that will make this Little call me Daddy for real…