Operation SEAL: Book Two Trident Brotherhood Series

by Cayce Poponea

  “He knows about all of us, our families included.”

  Without hesitation, Harper’s face is in the forefront of my mind. “Copy what you can, let’s set this bitch on fire.”

  Giving Havoc an excuse to play with fire was the equivalent of offering a small child a second bowl of ice cream. Chief and Ghost wasted no time downloading files as Reaper and I helped Havoc wire this bitch to burn. In theory, the amount of force we were creating would cause the walls to become brittle and cave in on themselves; anything flammable would turn to dust within seconds.

  The tricky part is being far enough away to avoid getting hurt, yet close enough so the detonators would work. Chief came up with using a few of the burner phones I found while keeping an ear on Aarash, something we’d all seen in the movies but never used. Using every ounce of firepower in our arsenal, we prepared for this shit to register on earthquake monitors around the world, as we found our way back outside the fortress.

  Climbing down the side of the hill, I realize we spent more time in there than I’m comfortable with, as the sun has already announced its arrival. With our choices limited, I looked around until an idea hits me. Hoping Aarash had more confidence in his assumption of our ignorance to his location, than in his rational side of thinking.

  “Come on, I’ve got a plan.”

  Charging down the side of the hill, guns fire, taking out the handful of men who stood guard, jumping over the last man who would soon succumb to the multitude of bullets I filled his chest with. Opening the door of the Hummer and climbing in, and sure as shit, Aarash had indeed left the keys in the ignition. As Ghost jumped in through the back shouting, “Go, go, go!” I pushed in the clutch and shifted into gear, tearing out of the compound like I was trying out for NASCAR.

  “Whoever this Ecnal is, he didn’t skimp on the accessories.” Chief rejoiced as he pressed the button for the popup navigation. The sounds of a ringing phone came through the speakers, followed by the first of many rumbles in the Earth. Pushing the accelerator to the floor, not certain of the distance we needed to avoid the fallout, the wheel begins to jerk as the ground shakes and a large yellow cloud shows up in my rear-view mirror.

  Cheers echoed through the cab of the Hummer, high-fives and happy faces as the realization we had successfully ended whatever plan Aarash and Kumarin were brewing. More than that, we had killed the man responsible for more evil than Satan himself.

  “You know, I wish Viper and Diesel had been here to see this.” Reaper spoke from the passenger side. “As a team, we’ve tracked that son-of-a-bitch for years, he always found some dark corner to hide in.” Shaking his head as he looks over the miles of endless desert, “Rest in hell, motherfucker.”

  Hours later, as we pull into the gates of the base. Wide eyes take in our group of SEALs inside a non-military vehicle. Ramsey comes around the corner, his t-shirt wet with sweat from his run, stopped short, much as the others around him. Captain and Lieutenant Oxford stepped out of Administration, as I jerk the wheel to the left. A cloud of dust swirls around the car as we jumped from the Hummer. Men with eyes of wonder came closer, if only by some deep-rooted instinct we as men have in admiration of a well-made machine.

  Walking as if I owned the world, and with what we had just accomplished I felt as if I did, I toss the keys to the Hummer in the air toward the CO. His eyes are wide as he catches them against his chest. My eyes focused on the door leading to my bed and a shower, but a Cheshire grin makes a home on my lips. “There, now you can’t say I never bring you anything home.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Harper

  “Reese International, this is Leslie. How can I help you?”

  “Hello, this is Harper Kincaid. May I please speak with Meredith Forbes?”

  “Just one moment, Ms. Kincaid, she has been expecting your call.”

  Leslie sounded far too chipper for the early morning hour. Maybe she was, as I am, in the early morning riser category.

  “Please hold.”

  It had taken me four days of near constant war with myself, battling between what I wanted to do, and what was best for everyone involved. Countless numbers of people turned to me, needing my help in taking another step in their recovery or independence.

  I stood for hours inside my office, staring at the bulletin board covered in thank you cards and photos, graduation announcements and business cards, reminding myself why turning Reese International down was such a bad idea. Questioning the validity of the offer and the timing of Logan’s confession. Would anything change if I said no to one and not the other?

  Early this morning, I sat inside my shop sipping a fresh cup of coffee, enjoying the quiet before the sun took its place in the sky and watched the birds as they fluttered around the sidewalk, searching for tiny morsels of food. The first rays of the morning allowed enough light for me to see the window boxes Mrs. Jackson chose over doing some real good for the community. Her ambition to make the streets beautiful had backfired, as an arctic blast hit the area, sending temperatures into the teens and the plants into an early grave.

  “Harper?”

  “Yes, is this Meredith?”

  “I was about to give up on you. What took you so long?”

  Baffled by her question, she had given me thirty days and not half of those had passed. “I’m sorry?”

  “I expected a call from you before Weston and I were on our plane back to New York. You took your time, I like that.”

  “Yes, well, this was a big decision. One I had to look at from all sides before making this call. I’d like to accept your offer and give this proposition you have a chance.”

  “Excellent, I’ll send my attorney over with the paperwork. Tell me, Harper, are you opposed to a few high-end dresses in your shop? According to my calendar, the annual Navy Ball is coming up.”

  Spinning on my heels, three racks of evening gowns stood in the middle of the room. The annual pilgrimage of wives and girlfriends had begun last week, bargain shoppers not wanting to spend an entire paycheck on a dress. Sarah had begun to drop hints about hiring a second seamstress to handle the workload.

  “What do you mean high-end?”

  “Well, I have a closet full of dresses I’ve worn the past six months to various events. They will likely remain on the hangers until my stylist takes them wherever it is she takes them. I also have a few friends who would willingly do the same.”

  I had no doubt Mrs. Forbes belonged to an impressive circle, one with a few names holding celebrity status attached.

  “Of course, the ladies would love it.”

  “Excellent! I’ll have a friend of the family come with my attorney later today. I'll be in town next week so we can do a walk-through of the new building with the contractor.”

  “I'll be ready, and thank you, Meredith, for saving this program.” I tried not to let the emotion in my voice slip through. She didn’t need to know how much I had cried over the possibility of closing it. How I apologized to Alex’s picture for not being smart enough to keep it open with the money he left me.

  “It means so much to so many.”

  As I was about to close the shop for the day, a black limo pulled up front. The back door swung open and a tall man unfolded himself from the back, his designer suit, slicked-back hair and large briefcase screamed lawyer.

  He turned, over his shoulder to look at the street around him. His eyes covered by a pair of sunglasses, hindering my ability to read his face. But as the long, sexy leg of the second occupant slid out of the darkness of the limo, he turned back, offering his hand, helping the legs become a quite attractive woman dressed in red.

  Miss Legs took a look around, pointing at various shops along the street. A gust of wind of the waning day causing her perfect blonde curls to whip across her face. The bitterness of the weather makes her rub her gloved hands up and down her slender shoulders. It’s amusing how she stomps her feet on the pavement as a protest against the cold temperatures.

  The pair head for
my door and in an instant I know who they are. Adjusting my skirt, the wool material perfect for the temperatures, but not so much for flattery. Considering who the gorgeous woman headed my way is, I’m left feeling inferior.

  Even in her thick coat, the blonde is skinny and reasonably so, her job dictating it. I knew the moment she pushed off the last of the wayward hair who she was, having seen her practically naked body on more advertisements and store windows than I could count. Lisa James is at the top of the food chain when it comes to supermodels. She is every straight man's fantasy and I’m sure a few gay ones too, she is the face of Victoria's Secret.

  “Oh my, God.” Lisa gushes, her arms circling me as she rushes through the open door. “You’re prettier than Meredith said you were.” For as tiny as she is, Lisa has some power behind her, rocking us side to side in dramatic motions.

  “Isn’t she something, Houston?”

  “Yes, Lisa, she’s everything I would expect from a friend of Logan’s.” His words aren’t harsh, but they aren’t comforting either, his attention focused on the briefcase he slid on the counter behind me.

  “Logan told me all about your pen-pal friendship, and I think it’s wonderful how you remember our men over there.” The grinding of brakes brings the odd conversation to an abrupt end as all of us look to the box truck parked in the middle of the street. Two men jump from the cab, dressed in uniforms, with the company logo on their hats.

  “Right on time,” Lisa comments as she rushes to the door, our conversation forgotten, calling after the men to grab their attention. While her efforts are appreciated, they are unnecessary as she need only step onto the street to get their eyes on her.

  “You must excuse Miss James. While she’s beautiful, she has the attention span of a grain of rice.”

  I snicker and turn to the man beside me, “Excuse me?”

  “Josh Houston, personal attorney for Meredith Forbes.” He stretches out his hand, a Rolex peeking from beneath his jacket sleeve, a platinum band on his left ring finger, and the edge of a tattoo on the side of his pinky.

  “As I said, Lisa is many things, including beautiful, but she has no boundaries and lacks any filters in what she says. Take nothing she eludes to as the whole story, and assume nothing with her.” His handshake is firm, something I find important in business. He’s also blunt, a character trait I find lacking these days.

  “Nice to meet you, and thanks for the advice. But do you really think you should talk about the woman you work for that way?”

  Josh slides his eyes in my direction as he stacks several pages in piles on my counter. “First, you're welcome. Second, I work for Meredith, not Lisa. And if you were to ask Meredith, she would say the same thing. Now, I know what you’re thinking.” Shifting his body so his arm rests on the stack of papers closest to him, his hazel eyes serious as he captures my attention.

  “Neither one of us missed how she labeled your relationship with Logan. That’s what I mean when I say she has no filter; she spews out the first thing on top of her head. Meredith likes you and she has spoken with her son,” adjusting his eyes back to his task, he pulls an expensive pen from his inside jacket pocket, tossing it carelessly onto the table.

  “Who, by my understanding, has begun his pursuit of you.” Tapping his fingers on the edge of the discarded pen, “Do yourself a favor,” pointing in my general direction. “Give in now and save yourself the trouble. The Forbes' always get what they want.”

  Any further explanation is interrupted by the commanding voice of Lisa as she pushes open the doors, the two delivery men behind her, each push a dolly packed with wardrobe boxes.

  “Harper, there’s another truck coming on Friday. My friends heard about what I was doing and they all want to help.” As I readied to thank her, the ringing of her cell pulls her smiling face and clear blue eyes to the offending object in her hand. Quicker than a blink, she answers the phone and turns her attention away.

  “See what I mean?” Josh nods toward the back of Lisa, who is repeatedly asking the caller if they are kidding her. “Attention span of a grain of rice.” Shaking his head, he motions for me to come join him.

  “Meredith wants to be called when we are signing the contracts.” Reaching into the belly of his briefcase, he pulls out a fancy looking laptop. Pushing several buttons, the screen brightens and Meredith’s beautiful face appears.

  “Harper, do not believe a word Josh says about me.” Meredith tries hard to hold back her humor, but the glint in her eyes says it all. “He has a bad habit of telling the truth.”

  Josh doesn’t even try to hide the smile, his eyes focused on his writing. “I haven’t told her the story of how you stole me from Lloyd and Bernstein.”

  Maybe he wasn’t name-dropping, but I was impressed with the name he bounced on the table. Lloyd and Bernstein was a major law firm with offices in New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. Last year they represented a big Hollywood divorce case, which turned ugly and into a murder for hire trial.

  “Feel free to listen to how we saved him from a life of long nights and endless weekends. Rewarding him with a house where his children get to enjoy being tucked in my him every night, and hasn’t missed a moment of their lives since we stole him.”

  Josh pulls a set of papers forward, placing them in front of me and setting his pen on the top. “Like I said, Harper, they always get what they want.” With cautioned eyes glancing at me, a knowing look on his face. “And since my youngest is teething, I’d like to get this over and back to my little girl.”

  Meredith places a pair of glasses on her nose, “She likes the frozen bananas, they helped her to get to sleep this afternoon when I saw her.” I feel as if I’m listening in on a conversation I shouldn’t, too personal and among family, so I distance myself and pretend to pull a piece of lint from my skirt.

  “Harper, I spoke with Logan a few minutes ago. He was excited about a mission he returned from. Something he said we would hear about on the television in the next few days.”

  “Oh, that’s good news, then.” Trying too hard not to give her any clue on my decision about Logan. “I mean he made it back safe, with his team and all.” Kicking myself for stumbling over my tongue, giving her justification for the smile on her face.

  “Yes, it is great news, although he was disappointed to return with no word from you waiting for him. I assured him you were considering all the options, weighing your heart against your mind.” Tapping the end of her pen against her desk, there are no emotions tied to her words.

  “Josh?”

  “Yes, Meredith. Harper, If you will open your packet, we’ll get started.”

  One hour, twenty-seven minutes and a threat to never speak with Lisa again if she didn’t leave my things alone later, I waved a final goodbye to the pair. Josh shared photos of his two little girls, Courtney, who is two, and Zoi, age ten months, who is testing his last nerve with her teething. He married Erin, his college sweetheart who almost got away. She heard a rumor about him and decided he wasn’t worth the effort. He spent most of his senior year convincing her he was the man for her. They married the summer after he graduated law school and had been trying to have a baby and buy a house, but his long hours at the firm and student loans, were making it impossible to achieve either one. Meredith Forbes saw his rebuttal in a case she was testifying in and decided she wanted him to come work for her. When the three incredible offers she tempted him with failed, she pulled out the big guns and spoke with Erin.

  I understood how he felt, as I held a check with too many zeros attached to the end, a lot of money earmarked to help even more people than I had ever dreamed of. Lisa left over two hundred dresses, beautiful pieces of clothing made by names which have made women gasp for years and years. The generosity of this family had no measure, rhyme or reason. They were simply good people, who wanted to give back to those who needed it.

  Smiling to myself, I turned off the lights and secured the check in the safe. I’d deposit it in the morning, not
comfortable with that kind of money hanging around, even if it was a check.

  As I walk around the edge of my counter, I see the big screen television sitting silently on the far wall. Recalling how excited Mitch was to install it and give me way too much information on what all I could do on it. Sitting on the sofa, one of the best purchases I ever made for this shop: too many husbands and boyfriends have fallen asleep on these cushions as they waited for their girls to try on clothing.

  The console to turn things on looked more like a mini computer than a remote control. Pressing the green button, which read power first, as it seemed the obvious choice. I wanted to have a Skype conversation, so I pressed the button with that icon. A list of contacts came on the screen, a plus sign at the bottom. Logan had given me all of his contact numbers including his connect name. Typing in his information, I am nervous and make a mistake. Pressing the red circle on the bottom, I get frustrated when the mistake doesn’t disappear. Searching in frustration until a blue button with an X in the center appears, and the mistake disappears with a single touch. Pressing the big green button with the camera icon in the center, I hear the tone telling me the call is trying to connect.

  The screen on the wall goes from blue to black as the tone continues, my hands are wet with perspiration from the nervousness in my chest. The tone continues three more times and I’m about to end the call and leave him an email instead when the signal changes and the call connects. The screen goes from black to a grainy picture to that of a beautiful woman, who looks completely sexed up.

  “Hello?” Her voice is as beautiful as she is, inky black hair framing a set of ice blue eyes. Her makeup is smeared and her hair is in a messy bun on the top of her head. “Are you there?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number.”

  “Who are you looking for?” Wiping the mascara from under her eyes, short manicured fingernails absent of any polish. But it isn’t her nails or how nice they are that catch my attention, but the t-shirt she pulls from the back of the chair she sits in, showing me the edge of her naked chest in the process, a perfect nipple flashing in the center of my screen.