Elle James - Hot Zone

“Did your mother tell you that you should get a job?” Ernie snorted. “Is she too lazy to get out and get one for herself and bring a little income home for once?”

The teen’s fists clenched. “My mother isn’t lazy. She has three small children to raise. She’d never make enough money to pay for child care.”

“And whose fault is that? She shouldn’t have had all those brats.”

The teen’s eyes narrowed. “You should have stayed off of her. They’re your kids, too. And what are you doing to put food on the table? My mother should never have married you.”

“She’s lucky to be off the reservation. And you should be thankful I took you in out of the goodness of my own heart.”

With a snort, the teen brushed the dust off his jeans. “You didn’t do either of us any favors.”

Ernie’s face flushed even redder. “Why, you ungrateful little brat. That’s all the bull crap I’m taking from you.” He launched himself at the teen.

Before he’d gone two steps, Hawkeye grabbed Ernie’s arm and jerked him around. “Leave the kid alone.”

Ernie glared at Hawkeye through glazed eyes, cocked his fist and swung.

Hawkeye caught the fist in his own palm and forced the man’s hand down to his side. “Take another swing and I won’t go as easy on you.” He fished the man’s keys out of his pocket and then shoved the man backward, out of range of landing another punch. “You’ll have to find a ride home.”

Sheriff Scott pulled up in his county sheriff’s SUV, parked and got out. “What’s going on here?”

Ernie stalked up to the sheriff. “This man stole my keys and threatened me with bodily harm.” He pointed at Hawkeye. “Arrest him.” The stern tone was offset when the man belched, sending out a vile fog of booze-heavy breath.

“Now, Ernie, I’m sure there’s another side to this story,” the sheriff said.

“It’s cut-and-dried.” Ernie pointed at the keys in Hawkeye’s hands. “He has my keys.”

Sheriff Scott leaned away from Ernie’s face. “The man’s doing you a favor and keeping you from getting a DUI.” He stared at Ernie. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Just one beer,” Ernie said. “A man’s got a right to drink a beer. Or is our government going to take that right away, too?”

The sheriff crossed his arms over his chest. “Care to take a Breathalyzer test?”

Ernie opened his mouth and had just enough sense left to close it again before his alcohol-soaked brain let his mouth loose.

Hawkeye almost laughed, but knew it would only rile the man more.

“Hop in, Ernie. I’ll give you a ride home.”

The man folded his arms over his chest and dug his heels into the concrete sidewalk. “Ain’t leaving my truck here.”

“I’ll drive it home,” the teen offered.

Ernie shot a narrow-eyed glare at the young man. “You ain’t touching my damned truck.”

The teen raised his hands. “Okay. I won’t drive your truck.”

“Don’t worry about it, CJ,” the sheriff assured him. He turned to Ernie. “I’ll have my deputies bring your truck out to your house in the morning, after you’ve had a chance to sober up. You shouldn’t be driving anymore tonight.” Sheriff Scott hooked Ernie’s elbow and eased him toward the backseat.

Ernie jerked loose of the sheriff’s hold and pointed a finger at the teen. “You’re done with this job. I didn’t approve of it anyway.”

The teen stood with his feet braced apart, his jaw set. “I’m going to work.”

“Not as a dishwasher, you aren’t. I won’t have members of this community pointing at you, feeling sorry for poor Ernie Martin’s stepson who has to work to support his family.”

“I don’t care what you call it—I want my sisters and brother to have something to eat. It’s either here or somewhere else.”

“I provide,” Ernie insisted. “And it ain’t your place to be telling tales about what goes on at home.”

CJ’s fists clenched. “I’m going to have a job.”

“Not here, you’re not,” Ernie said with a finality that made CJ blink.

“How about at my place?” Olivia stepped forward. “Mr. Martin, you might not remember me, but I’m Olivia Dawson, Everett Dawson’s daughter.”

“Yeah. So?” He ignored her outstretched hand. “That doesn’t give you the right to butt into a private conversation.”

Hawkeye had to stop himself from snorting. The way Ernie had been yelling, the entire town of Grizzly Pass had to have heard his “private” conversation.

Olivia continued. “Since my father passed—” she swallowed hard and pressed on “—my foreman has broken his leg. I could use some help. CJ can work for me out at the ranch. He can make some money to tide you over to better times, or at least pay for his own meals.” Olivia caught Ernie’s stare and held it. “What do you say? You and my father were friends at one time. He’d be proud to have your stepson help me out.”

Ernie bristled. “If you need help, why not me?”

Olivia smiled gently.

Hawkeye could feel himself melt. The woman needed to smile more often. She went from pretty to stunning in less than a second.

“I wouldn’t dream of taking you away from your ranch. I know how hard it is to keep things running. Besides, I can’t afford to pay much.”

“I’ll take it,” CJ said. He turned to his stepfather. “I’ll do my chores before I leave the house and when I get back.”

“And how will you get there and back?” Ernie asked, a sneer pulling at one side of his mouth. “You have school starting in a couple weeks.”

“I’ll manage.”

Ernie snorted and turned back to Olivia. “If he steals something, don’t come crying to me. He’s been nothing but a pain in my rear since I brought him to the ranch.”

CJ’s eyes flashed, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. How he put up with Ernie, Hawkeye had no idea. Just standing near the belligerent jerk made Hawkeye itch to shove his fist in the man’s face.

“Fine.” Ernie waved at Olivia and his stepson. The drunk swayed and practically fell into the backseat of the sheriff’s SUV. As he leaned out to close the door, he said, “He’s your problem now.”

“You got a way home, CJ?” Sheriff Scott asked.

The teen nodded. “Yes, sir.” He glanced toward the sheriff’s vehicle as if it was the last place he wanted to be.

The sheriff shook his head and slid behind the wheel. A moment later, all Hawkeye could see of Ernie Martin were the taillights of the sheriff’s SUV disappearing at the end of Main Street.

Olivia clapped her hands together. “Well, that was lovely. I have the help I needed.” She smiled at CJ. “How soon can you start?”

The young man dug his hands into his pockets. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to start in the morning. Right now, I need to get home.” He gazed in the direction his stepfather had gone.

“Do you need a ride?” Hawkeye asked.

CJ shook his head. “No, sir. I’ll just let my boss know I can’t work here anymore. I have a bicycle. I’ll get myself home.”

“That’s got to be about five miles out of town. And it’s getting dark.” Olivia frowned. “Let one of us take you.”

The young man shook his head. “I’ll need my bike to get to work in the morning.”

“I live three miles out of town,” Olivia said. “Between you living on one side of Grizzly Pass and me on the other, that’s over eight miles several times a day. You need some other way to get there and back.”

“I promise.” CJ stepped forward. “I can do it. I’m used to riding long distances. It’s nothing.” He edged toward the tavern. “I really need to get home.”

Olivia still frowned, but she stepped out of the youth’s way. “Tell you what—don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”