The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

He settled her into the passenger seat of the Jeep, and she watched him through a haze of tears, his grim profile a black silhouette against a dark background. He was angry. And it showed in his sharp movements as he maneuvered the Jeep back to the main road into town.

“Why are you bleeding?” he asked harshly, speaking for the first time in minutes.

“One of them cut me,” she confessed. The car veered, and his head swung to face her.

“They stabbed you? Oh Jesus, why didn’t you say something? How bad is the bleeding?”

“I said cut, and I meant cut. It’s not a penetrating wound. It’s a slash,” she said, forcing calmness into her voice. He was on the verge of panicking, and it wouldn’t do to spook him further.

“How the fuck would you know that?” he asked angrily.

“I’m a doctor, remember? I may treat animals instead of people, but I do know the difference between a serious wound and a superficial wound.”

“Does it hurt?” His voice was too restrained, too mechanical, for lack of a better word.

“A little,” she lied. It hurt like hell, and it was still bleeding sluggishly, which told her she’d probably need stitches.

The thought of her in pain was unbearable, and Mason gritted his teeth and drove even faster. God, he could kill her for being so damned stupid.

“You’re angry,” she said, her voice timid. He shot her a disbelieving glare but refrained from responding to that obvious statement. “I’m sorry I inconvenienced you.”

“Daisy, shut up,” he advised steadily. “I’m not willing to get into this with you now.”

Thankfully, she listened to him, but only because she was in pain. He could tell because of the way she held herself, like she was afraid to move. He was an expert at pain and the coping mechanisms people implemented to deal with it.

They got to the small local clinic less than five minutes later, and he leapt out to find a doctor and a wheelchair. He called Spencer and asked him to contact Daisy’s family before rushing to be by her side again.

The doctors forced him to stay in the waiting room while they wheeled her into the ER, and all Mason’s pent-up rage at Daisy and the bastards who had dared to hurt her made him want to break something. He started pacing, prowling up and down the length of the room like a caged animal as he attempted to calm his raging thoughts. Part of him wanted to rush back to Inkululeko and beat the offenders to a pulp, while another—much bigger—part of him wanted to stay here and just never leave Daisy’s side again. He wanted to wrap her in cotton wool and keep her safe from everything and everybody.

“Mason!” He turned just as Daff stepped into the waiting room followed by Lia, their parents, and Spencer. “What happened? How is she?”

“Your sister decided that it would be a good idea to go into Inkululeko after dark and without an escort,” he enlightened them shakily, and Dr. McGregor swore furiously. “She’s fine. A few scrapes and bruises and a nasty cut, but the residents came to her rescue.”

“Oh, thank God,” Lia whispered; she was weeping quietly and hugging her distraught mother.

“Oh my God, that idiot,” Daff snapped, and Mason nodded.

“Finally we agree on something,” he said drily before resuming his pacing. He was aware of the concerned discussions around him, and when they started talking about who would stay with Daisy tonight, he stopped pacing to face them.

“You should probably be aware of the fact that the only place she’ll be staying tonight is at mine,” he stated uncompromisingly, leaving no room for argument in his voice.

“The last time you saw her, you told her that you didn’t even have a friendship,” Lia reminded, and Daff glared at him.

“And that means you don’t get to have a say in her well-being right now,” Daff added.

“Look, I was trying to do the right thing. She thinks she’s in love with me, but she’s not.”

“How do you know that?” Spencer asked him curiously. His brother remained removed from the group, just sitting quietly in the corner and waiting.

“Because I was her first”—Mason’s eyes shifted to her listening parents and felt his face warming slightly—“uh, first boyfriend.” What a stupid word that was. Puerile and pointless, he was neither a boy, nor a friend. “Nobody falls in love with their first significant other.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. McGregor stated decisively. “I did.”

“As did I,” Dr. McGregor added. Mason looked at them in blank surprise.

“You did?”

“We met in high school, fell in love in our senior year, and got married after Andy finished medical school,” Mrs. McGregor stated, and her husband nodded fondly.

“Don’t be so quick to discount her feelings, son. You once told us you were working on getting her to like you in the same way you liked her.”