Minutes to Kill (Scarlet Falls #2)(43)

“Good night.” With a wave, the vet jogged across the gravel parking area and disappeared into his one-story house.

Rain hit Brody’s head, and the cold was a slap to his still-damp body. He shuddered hard, a wave of exhaustion sliding over him. Hannah opened the SUV door so he could put the dog inside. Rubbing her biceps, she huddled on the leather seat.

“You know your vet well enough to call him in the middle of the night?” Her voice quivered. A shiver shook her body.

Brody cranked up the heat in the car and directed the vents at Hannah. “My cat is a hundred years old.”

She raised a brow and tilted her head. “You’re a cat person? I thought men preferred dogs.”

“The cat came with the house. I’m not home enough to have a dog, but I like them both.” Brody turned the car toward Grant’s house. “You’re pretty good in the woods at night for a lawyer.”

“I told you. My childhood wasn’t typical.”

“Because your father was disabled?”

“That was part of it.” Hannah glanced in the back. Seemingly satisfied that the dog was fine, she settled down and raised her hands to the heat vents. “Even after he became a colonel, my father was an army ranger in his heart. After the explosion, he decided that if he couldn’t be a ranger anymore, it was his job to pass along all his skills to his sons.”

“Just his sons?”

“I had to beg to go along on all the survival training weekends.” Her face turned toward the passenger window.

“Survival training?” Brody prodded. “That sounds serious.”

“The Colonel didn’t do anything halfway. I remember one particularly bad trip when we lost Lee.”





Chapter Sixteen

Hannah dropped her backpack in the foyer. “I’m ready.”

The Colonel gave her a quizzical look. “Are you sure you want to come?”

“Yes.” Hannah dropped to one knee to lace her hiking boot.

Her father spun his wheelchair to face her. “This is not going to be a leisurely camping trip.”

She wasn’t slouching, but the Colonel’s scrutiny made her feel as if she were.

“I know.” She stretched her head toward the ceiling. In school, she didn’t advertise her height. At twelve, being taller than most of the boys in your class wasn’t an asset, but the Colonel valued size, strength, and intelligence.

“Wouldn’t you rather stay home and bake with your mother?” the Colonel asked. “She really enjoys doing that with you.”

Hannah flinched. “No.”

The Colonel didn’t understand why his daughter would want to traipse around the woods with the boys. The Colonel didn’t understand her.

“The boys aren’t going to slow down for you,” he said, maneuvering to inspect her pack. “And the weather isn’t on your side. It’s going to be cold and rainy.”

“Yes, sir.” Hannah lifted her chin.

“Women don’t belong in the field.” The Colonel had never been shy about voicing his opinion on women in combat. “You know I don’t believe in all that politically correct bullshit.”

“I do,” Hannah said. And so did everyone else. She had to fight for inclusion. Every. Single. Time.

He sighed and shook his head. “You can go.”

Why did he not see that she consistently kept pace with his sons, and in some areas, outperformed them? Because he didn’t want to admit his beliefs were outdated and maybe even wrong. The Colonel was old-school military.

Even though Grant was physically superior in every way, Hannah was the marksman. Mac never got lost. He had a wolf’s sense of direction. Sometimes she swore he smelled his way through the forest. Lee was the one the other three would have to carry for the next forty-eight hours, and they all knew it. They didn’t mind, though. It wasn’t his fault.

“Hannah won’t hold us up.” The oldest of the Barrett siblings, Grant, stepped up next to her. Six-three, well-muscled, and still growing, he shifted until he was shoulder to shoulder with Hannah. His sheer bulk filled her with confidence and simultaneously intimidated her. On one hand, she knew Grant would see them safely through the weekend. He always did. On the other, how could she ever compete with the likes of him? He was perfect in the Colonel’s eyes. Top of his class at the military academy and athletic, he was the boy his classmates turned to for leadership. Even at the age of seventeen, Grant was clearly senior officer material. But then, he’d been raised to continue the Colonel’s military tradition.

The Colonel turned away from her. “Grant, I’m counting on you to ensure nothing happens to my girl.”

“Yes, sir,” Grant said. No one argued with the Colonel, but the four Barrett siblings all knew it wouldn’t be Hannah who needed help.

With a shrug, the Colonel addressed his second son. “Lee, are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Lee pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. At fifteen, he was still waiting on a growth spurt, but it was already evident he wouldn’t attain Grant’s size or strength. Lee would rather hole up with a book than spend the weekend training in outdoor survival drills.

“Lee, I know you don’t enjoy these weekends, but every man needs to know how to protect himself and his family,” the Colonel said. “Someday you’ll thank me.”