FROM: Zack Michels
Kennedy,
I'm on my first layover, long enough to eat a quick bite and send an email to a beautiful girl. My plane flew over the mountains and I instantly thought of you. Wondering what you were doing at that precise moment. I hope you are happy, riding your horses or laughing at a funny movie. I’ll email again when I land in the states, with only a few hundred miles separating us, instead of an ocean.
Yours, Zack
What should have flattered me sent a different kind of chills up my spine. Zack’s wording made it appear as if we were already a couple, instead of two individuals who stumbled upon one another. Perhaps fast is the speed used by these dating websites, acting rapidly before all of the good ones are gone.
Military Connections REPLY TO MESSAGE: 2
FROM: Zack Michels
Lieutenant Michels,
I wish you safe and pleasant travels. Your family must be excited to see you, although I'm not certain of the length of time you have spent away from them. Among the many things we need to learn from one another as our friendship grows. Enjoy your time with them, treasure every moment and do not worry about corresponding with me. I understand all too well the importance of reunions.
Sincerely, Kennedy
CHAPTER FIVE
Zach
As I crossed the compound, I took in the sights that had become the norm for all of us here. A group of guys picking up a game of basketball, another cluster with a guitar with a guy strumming passionately, yet singing quite poorly, and some were working out with the wind and sand swirling around them.
"Afternoon, Sir."
Ramsey stood not six paces from me, his eyes bright while I watched in horror as he raised his right hand to salute me. As I clear the distance between us, there are at least a handful of people who had witnessed his deadly error. Twisting his wrist, not giving a shit if I broke every finger he had, my momentum forces him to stumble backward, my intent to get us safely inside of a building.
“Do that shit again and the only salute you will be able to give is when you jack off in the morning!” I seethed, tossing his hand into his chest. Ramsey had been here for about three months and he was the scariest type of soldier. The kind who wanted to see some action and stare the insurgents in the face. Guys like him had imaginary battle scenes they told their buddies about back home. Ones where they took on twelve guys, when in reality they pissed their pants and hid in the fucking sand until the shooting stopped. He boasted he wanted to be a SEAL, be the baddest of the bad, but we all knew he wouldn't make it past the front gate of training.
“Yes, Sir. My mistake, Vi—LT.” Fucker knew better than to use my call sign, something reserved for my men. “I heard you ran into some action out there. Took on a hundred men with Aarash leading the pack.”
Ramsey reminded me of the bouncing cartoon pup from Chester and Spike as he stood in the center of the room, waiting on the details of a battle he had already created in his head. "Don't believe everything you hear, Ramsey. Just keep your eyes open and your fucking hand at your side.” I turned to take my leave, a hot shower and the letter inside my pocket requiring my attention.
“Roger that, LT. Hey, I hear you have a younger sister, she dating anybody?” His words stopped me in my tracks. Just before we had gone on patrol this last time, he came into the area where I was Skyping with my aunt and sister. He took one look at Savannah and jizzed himself. Once I said goodbye to them, I made it quite clear to him to keep his fucking mind, and hands, off my little sister, the sole of my boot can be very intimidating.
“Ramsey, I told you before, my sister better not cross your mind.” It was no secret around here; my sister was pretty yet a little thick in the middle. Her desire to be in love got her heart broken, along with a few noses courtesy of my twin, Zane. While Savannah had enough love to share with the world, she was also a complete pain in the fucking ass. But I loved her, and it was my duty, as her older brother, to protect her. “It's none of your fucking business who she’s dating, cause it damn sure ain't gonna be you.”
Not waiting to hear another word, lacking confidence in my ability to not add Ramsey's name to the list of bloody knuckles I'd collected over the years. I wince as the bright rays of the desert sun blinded me instantly, even with my cover and sunglasses; the sharpness of the sun was a bitch.
Being an officer, the shower facilities were slightly better than those for the enlisted. Where they had a makeshift room, with showerheads every three feet, we were sectioned off, giving a false sense of privacy. Standing under the lukewarm water, I wash away the stench of the mission. The smell of my shampoo brings back the memory of Chief and the conversation we had on the helicopter ride home. He had been the last to board the bird, rushing to make sure we didn't leave him behind.
“You think this is a limo service now?” I shouted over the noise of the blades. “Nah,” he said, no smart assed comment or quick-witted comeback.
“Oh, hell, no.” I shoved at him as he donned his headset. Chief always had something to say; no matter if it was a strained, ‘fuck you’ or a ‘shut the fuck up’, he always said something.
“What happened to make you late?”
Chief couldn't hold back his smile, shaking his head as he looked out the side of the helicopter. “When the bullets started flying, I had already jumped into the truck with the nurses. After the first shot hit the front glass, the woman with the glasses lost her cool. I had covered her with my body and told her over and over she was safe inside the vehicle, but she was too scared to listen and started screaming how she didn't want to die. I tried to put my hand over her mouth, but she was about to hyperventilate.” I knew what he was about to say before the words left his mouth. Chief, like the rest of us, had his fair share of young ladies cross his path. He took a few home with him, but never spoke of having anything serious. “So I did the only thing I could think of to do,” he shrugged his shoulders as the knowing grin reappeared. “I kissed her.”
After the team razzed him about the timid girl who stood off to the side and never made eye contact, he caught my attention and had me switch to a secure channel on the radio.
“Her name is Rachel Alexander, I didn't plan on kissing her, but Zach...” this was Aiden talking, and not Chief, confiding his joy in a friend, “...something caught in me.” Rubbing his chest, his eyes locked with mine.
He confessed how the kiss started out as a way to keep her quiet, ensuring her safety. Combined with the heat of the moment and the sweet smell of her hair, his rules of engagement went right out the window. He’d gotten her information and gave her his, they promised to keep in touch and kissed again, thus the reason he nearly missed the helo.
As I was about to head to my rack and write a letter to Miss Forrester, my satellite phone sounded from my pack. Snatching it up, I walked back into the heat of the day, knowing the reception would be better outside. The number on the screen was familiar, a friend I hoped to see once I made it back to the states.
“Hey, dickhead, you get married yet?”
“Nah, man, I got rid of her. Sir, I got shit to talk to you about.”
Chase Morgan, Diesel, had been one of the finest soldiers I've ever served with. Early on he showed determination and responsibility, confirming my decision to include him in our missions. Late last year, he started exchanging emails with a girl from back home in South Carolina. They seemed to get serious pretty swiftly and he told us of his plans to head home and marry her.
“Sound serious, Diesel.”
“I'm gonna put you on speakerphone and let my brother Austin tell you what’s going on.”
Keeping my eyes on the ridge of the closest mountain, the dead bushes swaying in the wind, I listened as Austin told me of the list he came across and how a number of identities were compromised. Ironically, the girl who Chase had set about to marry was in the center of the theft. My thoughts went back to Aarash and how he knew about my family back in Atlanta. Could this security brea
ch Austin spoke of be some new way the enemy found to get to our core?
“Zach, I can email you what I have if you need any proof of what I'm saying.”
“Diesel trusts you, so I trust you as well. But let me know if you have anything else come up."
***
Dear Ms. Forrester,
My name is Zach Michaels. I realize you don't know me, but I received your letter by mistake. I apologize, as I didn't pay attention to the name on the envelope before opening it. I read a few lines before I questioned who you were, and it was then I checked the address and noticed you had sent it to someone else. My sad news doesn't end there, I wanted to do the right thing and make sure your Zack got his letter. However, moments ago I learned you, and apparently myself, have been unwillingly involved in an Internet scam. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your love interest, Zack Michels is a computer-generated scam. Please accept my apologies. I have included my email address if you wish to confirm this Zach Michaels is telling you the truth.
Sincerely,
Lieutenant Zach Michaels
I placed Kennedy's letter in an envelope before tossing it in the outgoing mail bin, hating the thought anyone could be so cruel as to lie to a young girl. What benefit would they have in a scam such as this? Was this a webpage decorated with half naked men posing as soldiers, tossing out lines of bullshit found in romance novels to their intended victims? Luring credit card numbers in exchange for a chance at a date with the hot guy they assumed cared for them.
Returning to my tent, deciding to do a little investigating on my own. I would need to email my brother Zane, giving him a heads up to watch out for out little sister Savannah. Last I heard, she and my sister in law, Meghan, were signing her up for online dating websites.
USA Today Fraud Report: Officials revealed today a major identity theft ring has been uncovered. This organization was spearheaded by Virginia Greyson, 25, of Charleston, South Carolina. A career criminal with a rap sheet listing repeated arrests for prostitution and illegal possession of drugs and paraphernalia.
Reports allege that Greyson created a fictitious website, MilitaryConnections.com, targeting single females and males. The reports indicated thousands of unsuspecting young men and women visited the website in the hopes of finding love with a man or woman currently serving in the US Military. Greyson would assign each of them a fictitious soldier, complete with an email and an address in Afghanistan. Several victims reported Greyson sent them an email stating their 'soldier' was being deployed. After a few days, an urgent email would be received stating their soldier's family was in trouble and monetary help was needed. Promises were made for repayment within seventy-two hours. Once the account numbers or actual money transfers had occurred, the email addresses would then become inactive. At the time of her arrest, Greyson was reported to have scammed more than two million dollars. She is currently being held without bond in an undisclosed location. Authorities are asking if anyone has joined this webpage and been given the name, Zack Michels, to contact them at the following number. Studies show that women, ages twenty-two to thirty-five, are prime targets for identity theft.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
CC:
Subject: Hey, heads up!!!!
Zane,
Hey bro, attached is an article I found while I was looking for some information for a friend. One of my guys knew the girl who has been arrested for this scam. Scary how they chose a name so close to mine, which is how I became aware of this. I managed to receive a letter from one of her victims. I heard Savannah has been trying to find Mr. Right using the Internet and I want you to tell her to be careful. I hope to be home in a few months, so be ready for an ass kicking.
Kiss Meghan and the kids for me and tell them I miss them. Also, make sure to tell Mom I'm doing fine and can't wait to see her.
Your Brother,
Zach
I hit send and shutdown my laptop. I needed to get in a run, work some of this frustration out of my system. With my boots laced, I joined the other idiots as we circled the tents in the blazing desert sun. It was a mile all the way around if you stuck to the trail and not cut between the tents. You could always spot the new guys with their running shoes and earphones. Chuckling to myself as I start my run, those of us who had been here any length of time knew they didn't stand a chance in the intense heat the sand absorbed. When I first got here, I'd put my ear buds in and tried to listen to music. It wasn't too long before I threw them away from all the goddamn sand collected in them.
Starting out, I could feel the sun's heat as it pelted down on my back and the clink of my dog tags keeping rhythm for me where my music once did. As I ran, my mind wandered to Kennedy. What does she do? Is she a student, a mother, or both? Does she have an older brother to watch over her? From what little I had read of her letter, and the news report, she at least thought she had someone over here.
Movement in the corner of my vision brought me back to the sand and heat, Ramsey trying to pass me on my left, time to school the little fucker. As he ran alongside me, I took a quick left, hurdling over one of the air-conditioning units for the infirmary. When Zane and I were in high school, we would take turns trying to outdo the other while playing football with the neighborhood kids. When Zane went pro, I worked his ass hard before tryouts. Ramsey was no match for me, screaming like a little bitch when his shin hit the cover of the unit. I didn't take the time to stop and see if he was all right, fucker deserved it for thinking about Savannah.
***
Things had been quiet for the past two weeks; too quiet if you ask me. Zane had written me back, letting me know he and dad had given Savannah and Meghan a strong talking to. Seems the news report had made its way to my father's desk. If you think I'm protective of Savannah, he's one hundred times worse. As his only daughter, she may have him wrapped around her finger, but he protects that finger with his life. Curiosity had gotten the better of me and I wondered if anything new was out about, Virginia Greyson. As I signed onto my laptop, I was surprised to see I had an email from Kennedy.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
CC:
Subject: Thank You.
Dear Lieutenant Michaels,
First, let me say thank you for your service. I cannot imagine how difficult it is for you, and your men, to be so far away from your families. I wish you a safe return and if you need anything stateside, it would be my honor to assist you.
As for the letter, I'm happy to say you were not the one to deliver the bad news. The day before I received your thoughtful letter, I was visited by someone from the Federal Prosecutor's office. Mr. Hawthorne arrived at the worst possible time, as my mother's bridge club was about to meet, filling me in on all of the ghastly details. Mr. Hawthorne insisted I refer to him as Steven, however, I knew my mother and her friends were listening in the next room. My mother, Claudia, is of the firm belief we address others with respect and reverence, therefore, he remained Mr. Hawthorne. Once he excused himself, leaving behind his business card, she cornered me demanding to know why a man with the government wanted to speak with me and accused me of having a romantic involvement with the gentleman. Lieutenant Michaels, the man was in his fifties, with maturity written in the lines of his skin.
It's just...my mother can be such a snob, concerned more with the activities of her friends than the relationships of her daughter. It is so infuriating when all I hear day after day is if only I were more well-rounded like my sister Caroline, I could attract the attention of a fine young man. What my mother doesn't seem to understand is the men around my age aren't interested in what a girl's IQ is, but more her bra size and how quickly he can separate her from her panties. Nothing ever seems good enough for her, regardless of how I dress or how many society chairs I occupy.
My brother, Jason, just happened to stop by at the same time Mr. Hawthorne was leaving. He isn't related to me by
blood, though. His mother, my father's secretary, died of ovarian cancer when he was three. He came to live with us when his father couldn't be located. My father, who is a prominent attorney here in Georgia, filed all of the paperwork and he's been with us ever since.
Jason questioned why I felt the need to contact such a website, taking such drastic measures to find a person of the opposite sex. If I'm being honest, and trust me Lieutenant Michaels, honesty is extremely important to me, I just wanted something, someone...different. I wanted to talk with someone who has done something they enjoy, not out of obligation or social advantage, but something that makes them truly happy.
When I first began conversing with Mr. Michels, or Miss Greyson, as it now seems, he/she presented themselves as a small town farm boy. His tales of adventure had him joining the Navy in order to see the world, along with finding cultures he had only read about. He was real, he was simple, and he was exactly the type of person I wanted to befriend. He sent me a picture of a sandy-haired young man sitting atop a tractor, complete with a cowboy hat and flannel shirt. I now know it was an image from a Google search. He attempted to lure me further into his trap as he told me he was falling in love with me, asking for my cell number so we could talk. Where I'm certain words such as this may have other women swooning, to me it seemed too Jane Austen to be real. How in the world can you fall in love with a man you've never conversed with outside of email?
My suspicions started when he told me he was shipping out on a secret mission. Three days later, I received an email informing me his mother had been in an accident and the State was stepping in to take his younger siblings into foster care. With his current mission in full progress, he wasn't in the position to come home to take care of them. He needed to get his aunt a plane ticket, but his credit card was expired. He swore he would get the money to me in a few days. I asked for a phone number for the county his family was in, telling him I would go to my father and have him intercede on his behalf. That was the last email I ever received from him. I was worried something had happened, so as you know, I sent a handwritten letter instead.
Signed, SEALed, Delivered (Trident Brotherhood #1) Page 5