“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 girl in trouble. She seemed to foster the same hero complex as Grant, except she wasn’t a former army officer.

“Yeah. He popped her in the head.” Grant tapped his temple. Fury flared in his eyes. Clearly, he was working hard to keep his temper in check.

Knowing some criminal had put his hands on her sent Brody’s blood into a silent boil. Call him old-fashioned, but there was no excuse for a man to ever raise his hand to a woman.

Grant agreed with a grim nod. “Hannah rallied, but after she got the girl into her car, he rammed them with his SUV.”