Page 1 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

one

LOGAN

I crouchlow at the corner of a wooden wall and wipe sweat out of my eyes.

The sun’s set but the November day has been unseasonably warm. The heat, combined with the coveralls I’m wearing and the need for stealth as I move through a maze of hedges and walls, have me dripping.

I wipe my hands on my pants, adjust my weapon, and raise my free hand. My teammates, Mac, Sean, Taylor, and Cole, shuffle from their hiding spots and tuck in tight to the corner. They adjust their own weapons. Together, we wait.

I listen, straining to differentiate sounds through the muffling effect of the maze. There are eight teams out tonight. Too many. I told Ry it was too many. Too much potential for confusion. Too much possibility of being caught in friendly fire. But Ry’s not a military man, so he gave it the thumbs up anyway.

There. Over the city’s night noises, the slough of the breeze, the shuffling of feet, a high, soft giggle. That’s the sound I’ve been listening for.

“Attack!” I yell, willing to lose the element of surprise in favor of the panic my shout will induce in those listening.

I lead my team barreling around the wooden corner, my gun up and firing. A blob of bright pink paint catches a blonde head before it ducks behind an overturned trestle table. The rest of my ammo spatters across the wooden surface uselessly.

Three grinning faces pop up over the edge of the table, guns pointed at me like a firing squad.

“Ambush!” I shout at my team, hoping that at least one of them will make it to safety, even as splats of orange paint pepper the front of my coveralls.

“You’re dead, Daddy!” Emily whoops, as she continues to fire.

I sit down in disgust. Mac plops into the grass next to me, scooping fluorescent orange paint out of his ear.

“I’m still going to beat her ass tonight,” he tells me, tipping his head at his blue-haired submissive, who is still firing over our heads.

“Definitely. Rampant insubordination.”

Mac chuckles and lies back in the grass, probably smearing paint all up his back. Since I’m going to need a shower anyway, I join him in staring up at the night sky. A few stars pierce the city’s light pollution and I smile up at them, happy despite my team’s route.

“This doesn’t suck, son,” he says to me.

“I led us straight into an ambush,” I answer. “Kinda sucks.”

Mac laughs. “Faster the game’s over, faster I get to fuck my girl’s cute little ass. Win-win.”

“Now that is the honest truth.” I lift my head to see what my girl’s doing but she’s ducked back behind the trestle to avoid a volley of glowing green paint coming from my left. “Give ‘em hell, Emmy,” I shout, to encourage her.

“I got this, Daddy!”

I lie back, chuckling.

“You staying the night?” Mac asks me. He shifts, getting more comfortable on the grass, steepling his fingers over his chest. The dim light from electric lanterns and fairy lights strung up around the maze illuminates his craggy profile. I know Mac’s face almost as well as I know my own. This man I served under, sweated under, bled under. Now he lives under my roof. Eats at my table. Plays at my club. I can never repay Mac for what he’s given me but it’s a start.

“Yeah. Committee meeting in the morning.”

“Ah,” he says, like he’s forgotten. I know he hasn’t. His membership application is in front of the committee tomorrow.

“You’ll pass,” I reassure him.

Mac’s profile shifts, white teeth gleaming in the low light, as he grins. “You’ve made sure of that, haven’t you?”

“I have.”

There are things I leave to chance. Not many, I admit. I’m a controlling bastard. But the happiness of the people who mean the most to me? No. I make sure of that. Mac wants to be a part of the club that’s so central to my life. He’s got the experience, and the money. He’d have been a shoo-in if we’d both been smarter and done things a little differently over the last few months. If I hadn’t levied a financial penalty while punishing one of the house submissives for bullying my little girl. If Mac hadn’t claimed and collared Brenna, who I can hear laughing her head off with Emily, for his own. More than one member is salty that he plucked her out of the pool of house subs. I’ve had to make a bad bargain and call in several favors. But I have enough votes.

I’ve made sure of it.

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