bruises.
Catching her gaze, Brody whispered, “What happened?”
Hannah stared back. “I fell.”
“I thought you were in an accident,” he shot back under his breath.
“Well, I can assure you what happened wasn’t intentional.” Her voice sharpened, which made him feel better. The clop on the head clearly hadn’t affected her keen brain or quick tongue.
She smiled as her brother handed her an ice pack. Letting the subject go for now, Brody sat back and enjoyed the company. But he wasn’t leaving until Hannah told him everything.
The rest of the party went smoothly. Ellie’s grandmother was a hell of a cook, and Brody was happy to dive into a plateful of roast chicken and macaroni and cheese. Cake, candles, and the birthday song followed. When was the last time Brody had celebrated a traditional milestone? He took Chet out for a burger on his last birthday. Maybe that’s why he and Chet were so close. Neither of them had a personal life.
When Faith tired of smearing icing and cake over her face and head, she screamed for her freedom in a pitch that could scatter dogs.
“Shh.” Hannah lifted her from the high chair.
The baby snagged a handful of her aunt’s sweatshirt with an icing-laden fist. Hannah gently pried the stubby fist from her clothes. “I think a bath is in order, birthday girl.”
“I’ll hose her down, Hannah.” Ellie took the baby and left the room.
“Thanks for dinner.” Brody caught Grant’s eye. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” Grant stood. “Let’s go into my office.”
He speared Hannah with a gaze. “I’d like to talk to you, too.”
She paused. Their eyes locked for one long breath before she blinked away. Brody could have studied her all day. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she was by far the most compelling.
“I’ll be right there.” She went to the sink, wet a paper towel, and wiped at the icing stain on her shirt.
Grant led him to a small room in the front of the house. Not yet renovated, the office was covered with wood paneling and blue carpet that called to the 1980s. He closed the door behind them and sat on the edge of the desk, the same chipped old desk and chairs that used to sit in his dead brother’s study. “What’s up?”
“It’s about the trial, but we might as well wait for Hannah. She didn’t fall, did she?” Brody asked.
Grant crossed his arms over his thick chest. “No, she didn’t, but she didn’t want to upset Carson.”
“Understandable, but she looks like she’s in rough shape. What happened?” Brody asked.
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Because she scares the crap out of me.” To be specific, it was the powerful interest for her stirring in his chest that intimidated him.
Grant laughed. “Hannah’s not scary unless she’s armed.”
Brody gave him a pointed look.
“OK. Maybe she’s a little fierce , but not scary,” Grant admitted as he studied Brody. Did Grant suspect he had a thing for his sister? “Try softening her up with Dunkin’ Donuts. Boston Kreme is her kryptonite. Mushroom pizza is also a favorite.”
Brody made a mental note. “You’re going to be away next week. She’ll be alone out here.”
“I wouldn’t be going if I wasn’t sure she was all right,” Grant said. “And Mac is scheduled to be home on Thursday.”
In Brody’s opinion, the youngest Barrett, a wildlife biologist, was highly unreliable. “Where is Mac?”
“Brazil.”
“So about Hannah . . .”
“She was assaulted in a parking lot in Las Vegas Thursday night,” Grant continued.
“What?” Brody snapped to attention. He’d become immune to many things in his twelve-year career in law enforcement, but violence aimed at women and children hit a perpetually raw nerve.
Grant nodded, grim faced. “She walked into some guy beating on a girl.”
“Let me guess. She intervened.” From past experience, Brody knew Hannah would never be able to turn her back on some
Catching her gaze, Brody whispered, “What happened?”
Hannah stared back. “I fell.”
“I thought you were in an accident,” he shot back under his breath.
“Well, I can assure you what happened wasn’t intentional.” Her voice sharpened, which made him feel better. The clop on the head clearly hadn’t affected her keen brain or quick tongue.
She smiled as her brother handed her an ice pack. Letting the subject go for now, Brody sat back and enjoyed the company. But he wasn’t leaving until Hannah told him everything.
The rest of the party went smoothly. Ellie’s grandmother was a hell of a cook, and Brody was happy to dive into a plateful of roast chicken and macaroni and cheese. Cake, candles, and the birthday song followed. When was the last time Brody had celebrated a traditional milestone? He took Chet out for a burger on his last birthday. Maybe that’s why he and Chet were so close. Neither of them had a personal life.
When Faith tired of smearing icing and cake over her face and head, she screamed for her freedom in a pitch that could scatter dogs.
“Shh.” Hannah lifted her from the high chair.
The baby snagged a handful of her aunt’s sweatshirt with an icing-laden fist. Hannah gently pried the stubby fist from her clothes. “I think a bath is in order, birthday girl.”
“I’ll hose her down, Hannah.” Ellie took the baby and left the room.
“Thanks for dinner.” Brody caught Grant’s eye. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure.” Grant stood. “Let’s go into my office.”
He speared Hannah with a gaze. “I’d like to talk to you, too.”
She paused. Their eyes locked for one long breath before she blinked away. Brody could have studied her all day. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she was by far the most compelling.
“I’ll be right there.” She went to the sink, wet a paper towel, and wiped at the icing stain on her shirt.
Grant led him to a small room in the front of the house. Not yet renovated, the office was covered with wood paneling and blue carpet that called to the 1980s. He closed the door behind them and sat on the edge of the desk, the same chipped old desk and chairs that used to sit in his dead brother’s study. “What’s up?”
“It’s about the trial, but we might as well wait for Hannah. She didn’t fall, did she?” Brody asked.
Grant crossed his arms over his thick chest. “No, she didn’t, but she didn’t want to upset Carson.”
“Understandable, but she looks like she’s in rough shape. What happened?” Brody asked.
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Because she scares the crap out of me.” To be specific, it was the powerful interest for her stirring in his chest that intimidated him.
Grant laughed. “Hannah’s not scary unless she’s armed.”
Brody gave him a pointed look.
“OK. Maybe she’s a little fierce , but not scary,” Grant admitted as he studied Brody. Did Grant suspect he had a thing for his sister? “Try softening her up with Dunkin’ Donuts. Boston Kreme is her kryptonite. Mushroom pizza is also a favorite.”
Brody made a mental note. “You’re going to be away next week. She’ll be alone out here.”
“I wouldn’t be going if I wasn’t sure she was all right,” Grant said. “And Mac is scheduled to be home on Thursday.”
In Brody’s opinion, the youngest Barrett, a wildlife biologist, was highly unreliable. “Where is Mac?”
“Brazil.”
“So about Hannah . . .”
“She was assaulted in a parking lot in Las Vegas Thursday night,” Grant continued.
“What?” Brody snapped to attention. He’d become immune to many things in his twelve-year career in law enforcement, but violence aimed at women and children hit a perpetually raw nerve.
Grant nodded, grim faced. “She walked into some guy beating on a girl.”
“Let me guess. She intervened.” From past experience, Brody knew Hannah would never be able to turn her back on some
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