Chapter 22
Connor
The new motel’s a step up from the last, its sign glowing bright against darkly painted walls advertising “Luxury Suites” in a font that promises more than the faded decor delivers.
It’s off a quiet stretch of highway, far enough from the last place to feel like a gamble worth taking, but my Guard instincts are still on edge, every shadow a potential threat.
Luke’s beside me as we pull into the lot, his backpack clutched tight, his eyes wide but steady after our escape from the last motel.
That moment we shared—his body against mine, the fire of our connection—has my heart in knots, old feelings burning hotter than ever.
My Daddy side wants to pull him close, keep him safe, but my Guard side’s screaming to stay sharp, to focus on the cartel closing in. His social media trick bought us time, but I know it’s running out…
“Here we are,” I say, attempting a smile.
“Yup, we sure are,” Luke giggles, playing along with my attempt to keep spirits up. “We’re going to be fine, Daddy. I know we are.”
“That’s the spirit,” I reply.
Damn, he’s a good boy.
I park the car in the darkest corner of the lot, scanning the area—empty except for a couple of sedans and a delivery van.
No immediate threats in sight, but the hair on my neck’s standing up, a gut warning I’ve learned not to ignore.
“Fancy place,” I say as we climb out. “You’re gonna have to chip in extra to cover this, Little Scoop. My bodyguard budget doesn’t stretch to luxury suites.”
Luke rolls his eyes, a spark of his playful Little side breaking through the tension.
“Oh, please, Mr. Bossy,” Luke says, his voice teasing as he adjusts his t-shirt. “I’ll pay you in peli-corn drawings. They’re worth their weight in gold.”
“Get to the room, number 214, second floor,” I say, my voice firm but warm—I messaged while we were driving, it should be all set up for us. “Lock the door, stay away from the windows. I’ll be up in a minute.”
Luke nods, his eyes searching mine for a moment, like he feels the weight of what’s between us, then heads for the stairs, his backpack bouncing jus like it always does.
“Move,” I say, my tone firm but full of care.
“Yes, Daddy,” Luke replies, evidently responding to my commanding delivery.
I watch him go, my chest tight, those feelings—Daddy, Guard, something more—churning inside me.
I’d love to protect him all on my own, but I’m no fool—this is far from my first rodeo, I know when the odds are stacked against me.
I need backup, and I need it ASAP.
When the boy is out of earshot, I pull out my phone and call Mr. G, my voice low as I lean against the car, eyes scanning the lot...
“It’s Connor,” I say when he picks up. “We’re at a new location, motel off Highway 17. Client’s secure, but the cartel’s closing in. They tracked us to the last place, hit us hard. I need backup—Cole and Henry, if you can spare them.”
Mr. G’s voice is gruff, no-nonsense...
“I’ll send them, Connor. By helicopter too,” Mr. G says. “But listen up—don’t get personally attached to this client. You’re a Guard, not his boyfriend. Keep it professional, or it’ll cloud your judgment.”
I clench my jaw, my free hand tightening into a fist.
“It’s purely business,” I lie, the words bitter on my tongue. “Just doing my job, keeping him alive. The client means nothing to me outside the mission.”
But even as I say it, I feel the lie, heavy and wrong.
Luke’s not just a client—he’s everything, and that kiss, that moment we shared, made it impossible to pretend otherwise.
A soft scuff on the gravel catches my ear, and I spin, my eyes locking on Luke at the edge of the lot, half-hidden behind a dumpster, his eyes wide.
He heard me.
Fuck.
My heart lurches, and I end the call, shoving the phone in my pocket as I stride toward him.
“Luke,” I say, my voice low, urgent, “What the hell are you doing out here? I told you to go to the room.”
The darling boy’s lips part, hurt flashing in his eyes, and I know he caught my lie to Mr. G.
“Purely business?” Luke says, his voice small but sharp, his hands clutched together. “Is that what I am to you, Connor? Just a job? After everything?”
I close the distance quickly, my hands finding his shoulders, my eyes searching his.
“No, of course not baby boy,” I say, my voice rough, raw.
“That was a lie, Luke. I told him what he needed to hear to send backup. My feelings for you—they’re real, more real than anything.
That kiss, what we did together back at the last place—it’s not just business.
You’re not just a client. You’re…” I hesitate, the words catching, because saying them out loud feels like crossing a line I can’t uncross.
“You’re everything, Little Scoop. And I’m not letting anything happen to you. ”
To my relief, Luke’s eyes soften, glistening, and he steps closer, his hand resting on my chest, his touch warm through my shirt.
“Connor,” he whispers, his voice trembling but full of that fire I love. “I—”
A faint whizz cuts through the air, a silenced bullet grazing past my shoulder, close enough to feel the heat.
My instincts kick in, and I yank Luke down, shielding him with my body as we hit the gravel.
“Move!” I hiss, my gun already in my hand, my eyes scanning the lot.
The cartel’s here, faster than I thought, and they’re not messing around.
Another shot pings off the dumpster, and I pull Luke toward the woods behind the motel, my arm around him, keeping him low.
“Stay with me,” I say, my voice sharp, urgent, as we scramble into the trees, the underbrush snagging at our clothes.
My heart’s pounding, my Daddy side screaming to protect him, my Guard side locked in, running scenarios—sniper, ground team, possible ambush points.
The cartel’s playing for keeps, kill or be killed, just like Cole warned.
I can feel Luke trembling, his breath ragged, but he’s moving, Swift’s beak a flash of orange in the dark.
“How did they find us?” Luke gasps, his voice tight with fear as we duck behind a thick pine, my eyes scanning the motel’s silhouette.
I can’t see the shooter, but I know they’re out there, closing in.
I don’t think it’s more than one, but there’s no real way of knowing.
All I do know is that we need to use our environment to our advantage. The shooter missed his first and second shots, I need to make certain that he doesn’t get another clear hit on us or it could be all over.
“Your social media trick bought us time, but not enough,” I say, my voice low, my Glock raised. “Haynes’s got tech, probably tracking your phone’s signal, even with the location spoofed. We need to ditch it, now.”
Luke nods, fumbling in his pocket and handing me his phone. I pop the battery, crushing the SIM card under my boot, and shove the pieces into my pocket.
“Good,” I say. “We’re ghosts from here on out. And we need to fucking move.”
Luke’s eyes are wide, fear and determination warring, but he nods again, determined to be brave.
“Okay,” Luke says, his voice shaky but resolute. “What now?”
“We keep moving,” I say, pulling him deeper into the woods, my hand on his arm, guiding him through the dark. “There’s a backroad a mile out, leads to a gas station. We’ll steal a car, head somewhere they can’t track. Cole and Henry are coming, but we’ve gotta stay alive until they get here.”
“How will they find us or get here in time?” Luke asks, breathing hard and we move through the woodland.
“Oh, you’ll find out,” I say, gritting my teeth as I push through thick undergrowth to make way for Luke to pass.
The woods are dense, branches snapping underfoot, and I keep us low, my gun ready, every sense on high alert.
My Daddy side’s still there, wanting to scoop him up, to promise him it’s all okay, but my Guard side’s in control, calculating, ready for a fight.
We move fast, the motel fading behind us, the air sharp with pine and damp earth. Luke’s keeping up, his breath ragged but his steps sure, and I feel a surge of pride. He’s scared, but he’s not breaking, not even after a bullet came within inches of us.
“You’re doing good, Little Scoop,” I whisper, my voice low, encouraging. “Stay with me, and we’ll get through this.”
Luke glances at me, his eyes glistening in the moonlight, and squeezes my hand.
“I trust you, Connor,” Luke says, his voice soft but fierce. “I’m not giving up. Not on you, not on the story, not on my life.”
My heart twists, that bond between us tightening, but there’s no time to dwell.
The woods thin out, the backroad coming into view, a narrow strip of asphalt glinting under the stars.
I scan for movement, for headlights, for anything, but it’s quiet—for now.
“Gas station’s this way,” I say, pulling the tired boy along. “We’ll hotwire something, keep moving. Cole and Henry will meet us soon enough.”
I scan for any sign that the hitman followed us into the woodland.
Nothing.
But we’re far from safe.
Luke runs with me, his backpack bouncing, and I see that fire in his eyes, the same fire that decoded the flash drive, that took out a cartel thug with golf clubs.
My darling Luke is not just a Little—he’s a fighter, and I respect the hell out of him for it.
We reach the gas station, a rundown shack with a single pump and a battered sedan parked out front.
I check the lot—empty, no cameras—and kneel by the sedan, popping the door lock with a tool from my gear bag.
“Get in,” I say, my voice low, urgent, as I slide under the dash, hotwiring the engine. It sputters to life, and Luke climbs in, Swift now out of his bag and in his lap, his eyes scanning all around.
“Where to now?” Luke asks, his voice steady despite the fear I know he’s feeling.
“Somewhere they can’t find us,” I say, pulling onto the road, my eyes flicking to the mirrors. “No motels, no safehouses—just us, the road, and that flash drive. We get it to your boss, Robert, and we end this.”
Luke nods, his hand resting on mine, and I feel that spark again, despite the danger, despite the fight for our lives.
The cartel’s coming, and it’s kill or be killed.
But with Luke beside me, I’m ready.
I’ll guard him with everything I’ve got, and I’ll make damn sure I’m victorious.
Because Luke’s not just my client—he’s my Little, my everything, and I’m not losing him—no matter what it takes.