Chapter 1 Into the Fire #2
A man who profited from their labor without truly understanding it.
Now his grandson was here.
Naturally people assumed he would be the same.
Spoiled.
Privileged.
Temporary.
Another rich kid playing at understanding working-class life before returning to comfort.
Mason had no interest in finding out if those assumptions were true.
As far as he was concerned, the kid could stay out of the way and finish his project.
That was all.
A movement near the main kiln complex caught his attention.
His eyes narrowed.
The young man from the parking lot had wandered far beyond the visitor areas.
He was walking directly toward one of the active kilns.
Alone.
Mason muttered a curse beneath his breath.
The idiot looked completely unaware of where he was going.
The active kiln generated some of the highest temperatures on the property. Workers assigned to that section followed strict safety procedures.
Visitors weren't supposed to be anywhere near it.
Yet the owner's grandson continued walking closer.
Stopping occasionally to scribble notes into a notebook.
Taking photographs.
Admiring the scenery.
Mason couldn't believe it.
The kid looked like he was sightseeing at a museum.
Not standing near equipment capable of seriously injuring someone.
He pushed away from the loading area and headed toward the kiln.
With every step, his irritation grew.
The heat intensified as he approached.
Several workers nearby were already noticing the situation.
One shook his head.
Another muttered something about rich people having no common sense.
Mason didn't disagree.
The closer he got, the worse it looked.
The young man had stopped near a restricted area marker and was staring upward at the massive structure towering above him.
His attention seemed completely focused on the kiln.
Not on his surroundings.
Not on the danger.
Just the view.
Mason finally got a proper look at him.
He looked younger than expected.
Maybe twenty-one or twenty-two.
Slim build.
Curly dark hair.
Camera bag slung across one shoulder.
Notebook tucked beneath one arm.
He didn't resemble the arrogant corporate heir Mason had imagined.
If anything, he looked more like a college student who had gotten lost.
That observation didn't make him any less reckless.
The kid took another step forward.
Directly toward a dangerous section of the yard.
Mason's jaw tightened.
"What the hell are you doing?"
The young man jumped.
Startled.
He turned quickly toward the voice.
For a moment, confusion crossed his face.
Then embarrassment.
"Sorry," he said. "I was just taking notes."
Mason folded his arms.
"You're standing in a restricted area."
The younger man looked around.
As though noticing the warning signs for the first time.
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh."
Color rose in his cheeks.
"My mistake."
Mason expected him to argue.
Most visitors did.
Instead, he looked genuinely apologetic.
That surprised him.
"Where are you supposed to be?" Mason asked.
"Administration sent me out here."
"Administration didn't send you there."
The kid glanced back at the kiln.
"You have to admit it's impressive."
Mason followed his gaze.
The structure was enormous.
Old.
Powerful.
Dangerous.
He had stopped noticing its beauty years ago.
"You won't think it's impressive if it puts you in the hospital."
The younger man's expression softened.
"Fair point."
Mason opened his mouth to respond.
Then stopped.
The kid suddenly looked pale.
Very pale.
The color had drained from his face so quickly it was impossible to miss.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
The answer came too fast.
Mason knew immediately it wasn't true.
The heat hit newcomers hard.
Especially during summer.
The kid swayed slightly.
One hand moved toward his forehead.
His notebook slipped lower beneath his arm.
Mason's instincts kicked in.
"Sit down."
"What?"
"Now."
"I'm okay."
He wasn't.
A second later his knees nearly buckled.
Mason crossed the distance between them before the kid could hit the ground.
One arm caught him around the waist.
The notebook tumbled into the dust.
For a brief moment the younger man leaned heavily against him.
His body felt alarmingly warm.
Too warm.
"Damn it."
The kid blinked.
Confusion clouded his features.
"I think I might be—"
"Dizzy?"
A weak nod followed.
"No kidding."
Mason guided him toward a shaded area beside a storage building.
The younger man stumbled twice before finding his footing.
Several workers glanced over.
One laughed quietly.
Mason shot him a look that ended the amusement immediately.
Once they reached the shade, Mason grabbed a water bottle from a nearby cooler and handed it over.
"Drink."
The kid obeyed without argument.
Good.
At least he wasn't completely stubborn.
After several minutes, some color returned to his face.
His breathing steadied.
The worst seemed to pass.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
Mason shook his head.
"First day?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"Very."
A reluctant smile touched the younger man's lips.
It was surprisingly genuine.
Not smug.
Not entitled.
Just embarrassed.
Before Mason could say anything else, a familiar voice called out from behind them.
"Mason."
He turned.
The operations manager, Rick Lawson, was approaching.
Rick glanced between them.
Then sighed.
"Let me guess. Heat exhaustion?"
"Almost."
Rick rubbed a hand across his forehead.
"I should've seen this coming."
The younger man straightened.
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault," Rick said. "We should've assigned somebody to show you around."
Mason immediately disliked where the conversation was heading.
Sure enough, Rick looked directly at him.
"Since you're already here..."
"No."
Rick ignored him.
"Mason knows this place better than anyone."
"Rick."
"You'll supervise Mr. Bennett during his project."
Mason stared at him.
Rick stared back.
The decision was clearly final.
The younger man looked equally surprised.
"Wait, really?"
"Really," Rick said.
Mason pinched the bridge of his nose.
This was exactly the kind of responsibility he didn't want.
He had enough work already.
Now he was apparently babysitting the owner's grandson.
Wonderful.
Rick clapped him on the shoulder.
"Don't look so excited."
Then he walked away.
Leaving Mason alone with the problem.
For several seconds neither man spoke.
Finally the younger man extended his hand.
"I'm Eli Bennett."
Mason looked at it.
Then at him.
Then back at the hand.
With obvious reluctance, he accepted the handshake.
"Mason Voss."
Eli smiled.
A warm, genuine smile.
The kind that seemed completely unaware of how dangerous it could be.
Mason had a feeling this summer was about to become a lot more complicated.
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