Page 1 of Daddy Protector (Night Ops Daddies #1)

Cole

“Coffee. Black. No sugar,” I say, nodding my head and watching as the server takes a note in her small service pad and briskly moves onto the next booth.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know the coffee is going to be hot, dark, and served in a chipped porcelain cup. What I’m not sure about is why the hell Hunter wants to meet me…

We haven’t spoken in a couple of years, more through circumstance than any other more sinister reason. There’s certainly been no kind of fallout, not as far as I’m aware.

In fact, the last time I saw Hunter was a couple of years ago over a few beers along with some of the other Night Ops Guard men…

A hot day. A flaming barbeque. And way too many beers.

Damn, those were some good times. I might be in my forties now, but a cold beer or several still appeals to me from time to time, that’s for sure. And to sink them with some real men, the kind you find in the Night Ops Guard…well that’s just perfection.

But ever since Hunter retired from the Night Ops Guard I guess it’s been a case of him being busy with his new legit security consultancy and me being busy with Night Ops Guard… business .

Hunter’s a couple of years older than me at 46, but we were both recruited to the Night Ops Guard at pretty much the same time as one another.

Both from military backgrounds, Hunter being part of the British SAS and me being a former SEAL, we had a lot in common.

We’re tough, competitive, and don’t take a backward step.

We were also schooled under the harshest conditions, taught to do the kinds of things that most civilians could barely imagine, let alone carry through themselves.

I’m no hero, and I don’t want any medals.

And I know that Hunter feels the same as me.

We both left the military and found ourselves involved in the kind of grey area that is a step too far for all but the most mentally resilient and deadly operatives.

The Night Ops Guard is an organization – I can’t even call it a company or firm because no one knows enough about who actually operates it – that serves some of the richest, most powerful people in the world.

Your wife’s being held to ransom?

You need to protect a politician from an assassin’s bullet?

Or maybe you yourself are on the FBI’s most wated list and need to escape?

Well, if you’ve got the money to pay, the Night Ops Guard is more than able to step in and be at your service. Our numbers are many, but we’re the kind of elite team that moves in silence, only emerging from behind the shadows at times where there is simply no other option.

There are lines we won’t cross – we don’t hurt children, help abusers, or abduct innocent people. You get the picture. We might be assholes, but we’re not that kind of asshole.

“One black coffee. Hot,” the waitress says as he returns with my much-needed caffeine injection and breaks me out of my thoughts. “Enjoy.”

“I’ll try,” I say, a wry smile on my face as I watch the steam rise off the hot beverage.

I know I’m not at a fancy restaurant or even one of the hipster coffee spots that are everywhere in the city these days.

But I don’t care. I actually like the normality and down to earth vibe of a downtown diner.

For me, this is like a holiday. No stress, no guns, no mission to be keeping me awake all night.

We wrapped the last Night Ops Guard operation a week ago and after saying goodbye to my partner Henry, I’ve been lying low and enjoying the quiet life. Late nights watching movies, strolls in the park, a couple of beers and a burger. Like I said, my life isn’t fancy.

I’ve been working with Henry ever since Hunter retired and we get on well.

The fact that we’re both Daddies probably helps too.

I mean, it’s not like either of us have got a boy in our lives, but still.

There’s been something real nice about spending time with a man who gets what it’s like to have this whole other identity outside of being a Night Ops Guard.

Don’t get me wrong, Henry and I hardly have the time to sit around and get into our feelings when we’re on a job.

Far from it, in fact. One of the big mantras that is instilled in us as Night Ops Guards is that we keep our personal lives to ourselves.

The truth of the matter is that we’re operating in the kind of world where even the slightest slip can cost lives – and the last thing we need to be contending with is any kind of personal involvement or connection.

We’re paid to a do a job, and the best way of doing it is by staying focused on the matter at hand.

There’s a pretty chill vibe in the diner and I allow myself a small smile as I take the first sip of the coffee. It’s not bad. In fact, I might even say that it’s halfway to being a decent cup of Joe.

I look around and see the booths are filled with the usual cast of characters for a late-night diner visit.

A couple of loners, heads buried in books.

A couple making gooey eyes at one another and splitting a slice of apple pie.

And even a table of hipsters, no doubt talking about how ‘authentic’ the diner is or some such bullshit.

Hell, what do I really care about who’s here or why?

All I know is that Hunter Selleck, my old Night Ops Guard buddy messaged me and said that we needed to meet, and it just had to be tonight. And speaking of the grouchy, lethal, and all-round dangerous sonofabitch…

“Well, well, well,” I say, looking across to the entrance and seeing the very same Hunter Selleck walk into the diner. “Hunter. Over here.”

I wave Hunter over and after a firm but quick handshake, we’re sitting across from one another, just like old times.

“Retirement suits you,” I say, noting that Hunter’s formerly shaved head is now looking a lot more uptown respectable with its slicked back side parting. “Still hitting the weights too.”

“Damn right,” Hunter laughs, his eyes on me in a way that tells me something is up. He might be laughing along with the banter, but Hunter is truly here for a reason.

“Talk,” I say, sipping my coffee and motioning to the waitress to bring another black one for Hunter.

“It’s Richie,” Hunter says, his face giving little away. “He’s in danger. Or, to put it another way, he’s in danger because of me .”

I lean back in the seat and feel my shoulders and upper back press against the booth’s soft, worn leather.

Richie is Hunter’s son. I never met him – typical Night Ops Guard behavior of course.

And beyond the occasional snippet of information, Hunter would rarely talk about him either.

Again, it was all about keeping that Night Ops Guard secrecy going, for our protection and our loved ones too.

But I know one thing.

I know that there was nothing in this world that Hunter cared more about than his children. First up with Benjamin, then Talia, and lastly… Richie, the youngest.

“He must be… twenty-four?” I ask, nodding in appreciation as the waitress sets down Hunter’s coffee and scurries away in a hurry.

“Close. Twenty-three,” Hunter says. “Benjamin and Talia are both living in Europe. They’re not involved in this. I was able to keep them off the radar. But Richie…”

“Keep going,” I say, my interest piqued.

“He likes to do things his own way, let’s just put it that way,” Hunter says, suddenly looking every inch the exasperated father. “And now I’m suddenly regretting cutting him the slack that I did when I got out of the Night Ops Guard.”

My mind is running the numbers, trying to figure out what Hunter wants. His son is somehow connected to his business, and that’s put him in danger. I can get my head around that, it makes sense. But, most pertinently, I want to know what the hell this has got to do with me?

Fortunately, or perhaps not, I don’t have to wait long to find out the answer to my question…

“I’m calling in the favor,” Hunter says, a serious tone in his voice. “You know, the favor.”

“I know,” I answer. “Of course. What we went through in Croatia all those years ago… you saved my life. You came back for me when any sane man would have run to save himself. I’ll owe you for life, brother. You know I’m good for that.”

“You and Richie,” Hunter says. “Together. It could be a week. It could be three weeks. Fuck, it might even be a month. All I know is that I need him out of the city and under the protection of the kind of man who can keep him under control. And not only that, I need someone who I can trust to keep his eyes open to threats. We’re talking high level threat.

I won’t go into details now. But this danger like how we know danger. ”

I’m not quite sure how to react. I can see that Hunter is being serious but a part of me thinks he must be joking.

“You want me to… babysit?” I ask, incredulous. “I thought you were going to ask me to run the security ops against this threat. You know, get in, clean up, get the fuck out. But… let me just say this one more time… you want me to babysit?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Hunter replies. “Richie is my son. I love him more than anything in the world. But he’s a giant pain in the ass. He might be smart, funny, and all kinds of talented when it comes to helping me run my company, but…”

“He’s a pain in the ass, I get it,” I say, still unsure how to react to the fact that one of my oldest allies has called in his once in a lifetime favor to ask me to look after his wayward son.

“But… can’t you put a full security detail on him?

You know, utilize me for what I’m actually good at.

You surely haven’t forgotten how I’m the better sniper out of us two?

Or how my hand to hand combat is, respectfully, way out of your league? ”

“Easy, tiger,” Hunter says, clearly seeing that I’m a little out of shape because of his request. “The thing is… I could put a security detail on Richie. But I’m worried that I’ve got a rat in the organization.

I can’t risk it. When you take Richie, you won’t even reveal to me where you’re taking him.

It has to be that secret. Listen man, I’m asking you to treat this just like it’s a Night Ops Guard job.

We might have a history, but right now I’m coming to you because you’re the best motherfucker in the business. ”

Shit. Hunter wasn’t kidding.

He wants me to look after his son.

Richie sounds like a nightmare, but that’s just part of the job. I’ve protected drug addled Hollywood stars, rogue politicians, and the kind of billionaire lunatics that would make the most eccentric entrepreneur look sane. I’m pretty sure I can handle my buddy’s sassy son.

Still, I’m not entirely over the fact that I’m not being hired to actually fight against whoever it is that’s causing Hunter problems…

“Well it’s a deal,” I say. “Consider this the favor returned. But don’t worry, if you still need me to wipe out your enemy further down the line, I’d be happy to help. For a price of course…”

“Fuck. Still the same old Cole,” Hunter laughs.

“Well hopefully it won’t come to that, but sure, yeah, why not.

If, and it’s a big if , I need help… I’ll ask.

But your priority will be Richie. That’s it.

He’s my world, Cole. I love all my kids the same, but…

he’s the youngest. That always carries a special place. You know?”

“Well, no, actually I don’t,” I laugh. “But I hear you, brother.”

With that, I watch as Hunter gulps down the last of his coffee, stands, and exits.

Typical Night Ops Guard style. No words, just actions.

I expect I’ll be getting more details from him pretty damn soon.

But for now, I’ve got a half-finished cup of black coffee to finish off and a pretty damn appetizing apple pie over by the counter to demolish before the real work begins.

And here was me thinking that I was going to enjoy my time off…