'Sully,' someone warned behind him.
The biker held Hank close enough to hear every breath. 'You think strength means you get to make a kid afraid in his own house?' he said. 'You think an adult's job is to take whatever a child manages to earn?'
Hank struggled to speak. The bravado had vanished, leaving a frightened man who now understood what it felt like to face someone much stronger and entirely beyond his control. Leo watched with his stomach turning. He wanted Hank stopped, but he recognized the fear in Hank's eyes and was startled to discover it did not make him feel better.
'Sully,' Leo said.
The big man heard him. His gaze flickered toward the teenager, who was standing with one arm pressed protectively against his ribs. Leo did not ask for revenge. He did not smile or cheer. He looked exhausted and frightened by the thought that violence might begin again, this time on his behalf.
Sully released Hank.
The man slid down the door and sat in the dirt, coughing and clutching his shirt. Sully stepped back, breathing hard, then reached down and took the lighter from where it had fallen beside Hank's boot. He wiped dust from the silver with his thumb and placed it in his vest.
'You don't get to touch him again,' he said.
Hank dragged in a breath. 'You're making a mistake.'
'Maybe,' Sully answered. 'But hurting that kid isn't going to be one of them.'
A rider near the pumps approached with a small first-aid kit and knelt beside Leo. His name was Martin Bell, a former emergency medical technician who now operated a towing service in Nevada. He asked Leo's permission before examining the swollen lip and gently checking where the ribs hurt. Leo was surprised by that single question. In Hank's house, no one had asked permission before putting hands on him for anything.
'You need a proper exam,' Martin said. 'Soon. Not a guess from me in a parking lot.'
Leo nodded. The rider offered him a bottle of cold water and waited while he took several careful sips. Behind them, Hank struggled upright and stared at the crowd as though searching for a familiar face willing to take his side.
Higgins was speaking hurriedly into his radio. 'We've got a large group at the old station,' he said. 'No shots fired. I need a supervisor.'
The words did not match his earlier indifference. Sully glanced at him and shook his head. 'Now you want a supervisor.'
Higgins closed the radio microphone. 'I have a duty to protect the public.'
'You had a duty to protect him,' Sully said, pointing to Leo. 'He was the public long before we got here.'
The deputy said nothing.
Sully returned to Hank. 'Where's his backpack? Anything of his in your truck?'
'He didn't have anything,' Hank muttered.
'You sure?'
'He's got nothing worth taking.'
Leo heard the insult and felt an unexpected surge of anger. He thought of the tin holding his father's photograph, the sketch, the little socket, and the cardboard with Sully's phone number. Those things were not in Hank's truck. They were inside the garage. Hank had never been allowed to decide what they were worth.