The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

“And as for you,” she seethed, turning that temper on him. “Thank you for everything you’ve done tonight, but just stop offering personal insight and suggestions into a situation you know nothing about. It’s none of your damned business.”

Stung, Mason knew he probably had the same shell-shocked look on his face that Daff currently did.

“I think I will go home. Tell Mom and Lia I’ll see them tomorrow afternoon. Good night.”

Before either could react, she had whirled out of the kitchen and was gone. Moments later they heard the front door slam and her car start up.

The silence stretched into minutes, and Mason finally looked at Daffodil, who was eyeing him speculatively.

“Why are you doing this? You didn’t have to agree to her foolish plan.”

He didn’t owe her an explanation, but he could see genuine concern for her sister mixed in with the curiosity.

“I honestly don’t know. Your sister is compelling and convincing and cute as hell; it can be hard to resist her.”

“Seriously?” The disbelief in her voice rankled, and he scowled at her.

“What is up with everybody in this town—even her own family—underestimating her and overlooking her?” he growled. “Why don’t you stop being such a bitch to me for agreeing to help her with this? And take a good hard look at yourself and everybody else who made her feel that she needed to go to such extreme lengths to avoid humiliation at her own sister’s wedding.”

“I don’t like you, and I don’t like what you and Spencer did to her.”

“I don’t like what we did either, and that’s partly why I agreed to this.”

“Seriously, Mason . . . you hurt her, I’ll castrate you.”

He gave her a grim little smile before nodding.

“Noted.”

Mason’s Jeep created deep ruts in the mud as he drove the dirt road to Inkululeko the following morning. He needed to see the clinic’s setup for himself, needed to reassure himself that Daisy was safe and that her clinic was secure.

The mobile clinic was parked in a clearing close to the informal settlement, and as he drove up, he was surprised by the incredibly long line snaking its way out from the covered entrance. There had to be at least a hundred to two hundred people—and their assorted animals—waiting. There was no way Daisy and her father could help all these people between eight a.m. and one p.m., which was what Daisy had said the operating hours were on a Saturday.

It was a gloomy day, but the people were happily chatting with each other, some were carrying umbrellas, others wore raincoats, and a few just had plastic bags covering their heads. The settlement was visibly impoverished, but the people in line were cheerful and had an obvious sense of community. Dogs of all sizes were tethered with leashes or makeshift rope harnesses, some obviously ill, others looking bored or nervous, others still picking fights. There were a small number of cats hugged to chests, chickens clucking happily in cages, and even a few cows, horses, and donkeys.

He was filled with a renewed sense of admiration for Daisy now that he could see what she had created. These people needed this service and were grateful for it. But on the outskirts of all this organized chaos there were a few others lurking. Looking tough, acting tough, and obviously up to no good. He knew the type, had seen them in many guises all over the world. But she saw no danger, saw only the happy community. But in his experience, the ones looking for trouble knew when to pick their moment, and it would be when Daisy or her father were at their most vulnerable. There were so many spots on the isolated dirt road that led up to Inkululeko that could be ideal for an ambush, and his stomach churned at the thought of Daisy getting into that kind of trouble.

He stepped out of his Jeep and walked toward the clinic. The people in line prodded each other and pointed at him. He was obviously out of place with his big car and his expensive clothes. He kept his stride loose and unthreatening, nodding and smiling at some of the people who made eye contact. When he saw a familiar face at the entrance of the clinic, he grinned.

“Hello, I know you, don’t I?” It was the pretty young waitress from MJ’s.

“Yes, I’m Thandiwe,” she said with a cheerful smile. “I’m the unofficial receptionist for Dr. Daisy and Dr. Andrew at the Inkululeko pet clinic.”

“Fantastic.”

“I want to be a vet too,” she confided, and Mason felt a pang as he recalled a similarly impoverished young boy with the same big dream. He trusted this self-possessed young woman had what it took to achieve her goal.

“You learning a lot from the Doctors McGregor?”

“So much,” she enthused, and his smile widened. “Are you here to see Dr. Daisy?”