Page 4 of Daddy Protector (Night Ops Daddies #1)

Cole

We’re back on the road. The rain’s powering down on the windscreen and the car’s warm aircon is sending Richie to sleep. And I’m not complaining.

I know I’m far from being the boy’s favorite person right now. Whatever. He can pout and sulk all he wants, but I’m not compromising his safety – or the success of this mission. Aside from my own personal pride and honor as a Night Ops Guard, I owe it to Hunter.

Hunter and I go way back…

Six months into my time with the Night Ops Guard, I thought I’d seen it all. Blood-soaked raids in crumbling desert compounds, silent infiltrations in urban sprawls, missions that left my hands shaking and my mind replaying every move.

But the South American jungle?

Damn… that was a beast of its own, and it swallowed us whole.

Hunter was my partner for this one. A couple of years older than me, with a jaw like a brick and eyes that didn’t miss a thing, he’d been recruited same time as me, but this was our first mission together.

We didn’t talk much on the flight down, just checked our gear and memorized the dossier…

The target: a politician’s son, twenty-four, brunette, pretty in that way that made you dread what mercenaries might do if you didn’t get there fast enough. His name was Martino, and his father’s influence was the only reason we were risking our necks in this green hell.

We were Night Ops Guard operatives. We took orders, we did the work, we bounced.

But the jungle didn’t care about our mission. It was hot, sticky, the kind of heat that made your skin feel like it was melting off your bones.

Night had fallen, and the darkness was thick, broken only by the faint glow of our NVGs – night vision goggles, the best tech in the game.

Insects buzzed like a chainsaw, and every step through the undergrowth felt like wading through soup. My rifle was slick in my hands, my heart pounding but steady. I’d learned to cage the adrenaline, to make it work for me. Hunter moved like a ghost beside me, his steps silent despite his size.

We didn’t need words: we’d drilled this dance enough in training.

The camp came into view through a tangle of vines. A dozen tents, crude and temporary, ringed a clearing.

Firelight flickered, casting shadows of armed men… mercenaries, ten of them, maybe twelve.

Sloppy, but dangerous.

“They won’t be skilled, but these motherfuckers won’t hesitate to kill the boy,” Hunter whispered. “We need to be accurate, fast, decisive.”

“Got it,” I replied.

Their rifles were propped against crates, their laughter loud and careless.

In the center, tied to a wooden post, was Martino.

His hair was matted, his face streaked with dirt and tears, but he was alive.

His eyes darted around, wide with fear, like a trapped animal.

My gut twisted. I didn’t want to imagine what they’d planned for him.

“Don’t get emotional, Cole. We’re here to do the job,” Hunter said, his voice low. “Extract and move on. You start caring, you make mistakes.”

I nodded, but his words didn’t sit right.

Doing the job didn’t mean turning off your heart. Not completely. I wasn’t built that way, even if the Night Ops Guard wanted us to be machines.

“Ten guards, maybe more inside the tents,” I whispered. “We hit fast, use the shadows.”

“Smoke and flashbangs,” Hunter said, already pulling the grenades from his vest. “You take the left flank, I’ll go right. We clear the perimeter, then grab him.”

“Copy.” I checked my watch. 0200 hours. The extraction chopper was ten klicks out, waiting for our signal. We had to move.

We crept closer, staying low.

The air smelled of sweat, gun oil, and rotting fruit. My pulse thrummed, but my hands were steady as I prepped a smoke grenade. Hunter gave the signal, a sharp nod, and we moved.

I lobbed the smoke grenade into the camp. It hissed, spewing thick clouds that choked the firelight. Shouts erupted, chaotic, as the mercenaries scrambled. Hunter’s flashbang followed, a deafening crack that lit up the night like a strobe.

I was already moving, my rifle up, squeezing off suppressed shots. Two guards dropped before they could raise their weapons, their bodies slumping into the dirt.

Hunter was a blur on the right, his shots precise, dropping three more. The smoke stung my eyes, but I pushed through, heart hammering.

Martino screamed, his voice raw, piercing the chaos.

I reached him in seconds, my knife slicing through the ropes binding his wrists. He flinched, his body trembling as I knelt in front of him.

“Martino, I’m Cole. We’re getting you out. Stay with me, okay?” My voice was calm, steady, the way I’d learned to talk when someone’s world was falling apart.

The boy nodded, tears streaming, but there was a spark of trust in his eyes. I needed that trust. I needed to know that he recognized me as the good guy in this hellish situation.

I hoisted him over my shoulder, his weight light but awkward. He clung to me, his fingers digging into my vest.

Hunter was already at my side, his rifle sweeping the camp.

“Move!” Hunter barked. “We don’t have long. There will be reinforcements. Don’t think for a second there won’t be.”

The smoke was thinning, and the surviving mercenaries were regrouping, their shouts turning to gunfire. Bullets snapped through the air, chewing up the trees around us.

We ran, crashing through the jungle.

Branches clawed at my face, but I didn’t slow.

Martino’s breath was ragged against my back, his fear a living thing. Hunter took point, his flashlight cutting through the dark as we sprinted toward the extraction point.

The chopper’s rotor wash was a distant thrum, growing louder.

We were close, but so were they. The mercenaries’ gunfire echoed behind us, closer now, their boots pounding the earth.

“Keep going!” Hunter yelled, dropping to one knee to lay down cover fire.

His shots were a metronome, each one buying us seconds.

I pushed harder, my legs burning, Martino’s weight dragging at me.

The clearing was ahead, the chopper’s silhouette black against the starry sky.

Its spotlight swept over us, blinding, but it meant safety.

I reached the chopper and slid Martino inside, his body shaking as I set him on the bench.

“You’re okay,” I told him, my hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe now.”

He nodded, curling into himself, but his eyes held mine for a moment, grateful.

Hunter vaulted in behind me, slamming the door as the chopper lifted. Bullets pinged off the hull, sharp and angry, but we were climbing, the jungle shrinking below us. I leaned back, my chest heaving, adrenaline still screaming through my veins.

Hunter grinned, his face streaked with sweat and dirt.

“Not bad, rookie,” Hunter bellowed. “Not bad at all.”

I snorted, wiping my brow.

“You’re not exactly a vet yourself,” I laughed. “We did it, man.”

Hunter laughed, a sharp bark that cut through the rotor noise.

“We’re a damn good team, Cole. Might even be the best.”

I glanced at Martino, his head bowed, his hands clutching the blanket a medic had draped over him. He was safe, alive, because we’d done our job.

Hunter was right…don’t get emotional.

But as I watched Martino, I knew I’d never be the kind of operative who could switch off completely. Caring wasn’t weakness; it was what made me good at this. It was what made me me.

Hunter clapped my shoulder, his grin softening.

“You did good, man. Real good,” Hunter said, nodding.

I met his eyes, a silent understanding passing between us. We were Night Ops Guards, built for the shadows, for the missions no one else could touch. But in that moment, we were more than that. We were a team, maybe even the perfect one.

As the chopper hummed through the night, Hunter leaned back, his expression shifting, softer than I’d ever seen it. He stared at the floor, his fingers tracing the edge of his rifle.

“You know why I do this, Cole?” he said, his voice low, almost lost in the rotor noise. “I got kids. Two sons. A daughter. Every mission, every bullet, it’s for them. To give them a future where they don’t have to know this kind of world.”

I blinked, caught off guard.

Hunter, the stone-cold operative, a father? I hadn’t seen it coming. It humanized him in a way I hadn’t expected.

“That’s… that’s a good reason,” I said, my throat tight. “They’re lucky to have you.”

Hunter shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“I won’t be a Night Ops Guard forever,” Hunter said. “One day, I’ll hang it up, be there for them like a real father. This life… it’s not forever, not for me.”

I nodded, his words sinking in. I understood the pull of family, the need to protect something bigger than yourself. But as I sat there, the weight of my own path settled over me.

“I get it,” I said, my voice quiet and contemplative. “But me? I think this is my future. The Night Ops Guard, the missions… it’s who I am.”

Hunter studied me, his eyes sharp but kind.

“Maybe. But don’t let it be all you are, Cole,” Hunter replied. “You’ve got a heart. Don’t let this job bury it.”

Hunter’s words lingered, heavy, as the chopper carried us into the dawn.

I didn’t have an answer, not then.

But I knew one thing… Hunter and I were brothers now, bound by the jungle, by the boy we’d saved, and by the missions that would very soon push us harder than we ever thought possible…

I look across to Richie, now fast asleep, and ease off the gas a little bit. The weather is getting worse by the second and the last thing I need is to get into any kind of difficulty on the road.

We’ll take this slow and steady if we have to.

Just like any other mission, I need to protect the client, ensure their safety, and get them to the safehouse. Except, deep down, I know that this isn’t just any client. This is Hunter’s son.

And with my mind still whirring with memories from mine and Hunter’s past together, I know in my heart that the reason he chose me for this mission ahead of any of the other Night Ops Guards was because of that damn soft heart I have.

I was never able to lose that emotional side to my work.

Sometimes I tried to. Over the years, things got tough.

Missions that failed. Operations where we just couldn’t arrive in time.

We saw some terrible, unseeable things. I tried to make myself cold to the horror, but it never worked. I always felt it, deep down.

Hunter knows that no matter how hard Richie pushes me and tries to provoke me, I won’t let that put me off the mission or commit myself any less.

But the boy doesn’t know that.

In fact, I’d be surprised if Hunter had ever mentioned me to him – he’s a private guy, just like all of us Night Ops Guards.

And I’ll use that to my advantage too.

If Richie isn’t careful, he’s going to see precisely what a Night Ops Guard Daddy is capable of if it means guaranteeing a successful mission…