Operation SEAL: Book Two Trident Brotherhood Series

by Cayce Poponea

  Several weeks later, I was hanging up a new dress in my front window when Ross, my brother, came through the door. I dropped the dress and ran to him. We clung to each other for ten minutes before he put me down. Ross was about to leave when Amanda walked in the door. It was love at first sight for them and they married thirteen days later before he shipped back out.

  Amanda's sister, Stacy, took me up on my offer and opened up a salon next door. A few weeks later, Amanda got in a heated argument with her boss and quit her job. She went to work for Stacy as a makeup artist. November of the same year, Asheton made good on his word and came into my shop. Stacy happened to be getting some coffee when he walked in. They made it nine days before he carted her off to the Justice of the Peace and got married.

  The next year, I got a call from another friend of mine, Sarah, who had split with her long-time boyfriend. Sarah wanted a new start so I offered her a job as a seamstress in my shop. When she showed up, Stacy and Amanda took one look at her and dragged her off to the salon. When they were finished, Sarah cried when she looked in the mirror and told them she felt just like Cinderella. The very next day, we had a sign made for the salon; Cinderella's.

  The same year, I selected Chief Mitch Riley in Okinawa, Japan. Mitch, as he preferred to be called instead of Chief, had more time on his hands and chose to call instead of write. More often than not, Sarah answered the phone. I had barely gotten two boxes sent to him when Sarah asked to take over. By the time the third box was due to go out, Mitch asked if she would consider visiting him in Japan. Sarah jumped at the chance and when she returned, she was sporting a diamond ring. Mitch was up for a promotion and if he didn't get it, he was going to retire from the Navy and move to Virginia. Everything changed six weeks later, when a tearful Sarah told him over the phone she was pregnant. He handed in his retirement letter the next day and five months later, he arrived in town, they married, and he opened an electronics store down the street.

  I could go on and on, tell you of all the packages, which united a couple together, but I won't. What I will tell you is you can relax, as I am out of friends. You can let out the breath you may have been holding as this year the only thing you can count on is a package in the mail and a listening ear if you need it. I assure you this is not a joke, or some crazy Officer and a Gentleman fantasy. Consider it my way of serving those who serve.

  Your friend,

  Harper Kincaid

  I read Harper's letter three times, unable to decide if she was telling the truth or was a professional bull-shitter. Since she wasn’t asking me for anything, I would see where she took this. I would however, need to talk with Blaze the next time I saw him, let him know I was corresponding with his sister. For now, I needed to get my shit together and get ready for this mission.

  When we finally finished getting the medical team across the valley floor, after a brief encounter with Aarash, which opened a door for Chief and one of the nurses to get cozy. The smile she put on his face and holding him back long enough to make him run for our ride back home was a little too obvious if you ask me. Chief could be, and had been, a huge flirt; not going any further than what the lady was ready for. He gushed about the cute nurse, Rachel, but I don’t exactly get a good vibe from her. As long as all he does is talk, I’ll keep my opinion to myself, my friendship with him is more important than being right.

  Arriving back at home base, I found a box waiting for me. Harper Kincaid practiced her own brand of magic as she defied the laws of physics with how much you can shove in a small box. I spent a good twenty minutes pulling out shaving cream, shampoo, body wash, cough drops, icy hot, several different magazines, a thumb drive, batteries, nuts, and even Cheez-Whiz.

  TO: AlexGrl17

  FROM: Logan.Forbes.LT@ OPS

  CC:

  SUBJECT: Hello

  Dear Harper,

  First and foremost, I cannot begin to thank you enough for your devotion to our service members. You are correct in thinking that many Americans think of us during the Christmas holidays, but sometimes forget us the rest of the year.

  You did give me a much-needed chuckle with your claims of not being psychotic. I will have to have further contact with you before I can give you my full diagnosis. I would never, however, question one sibling as to the sanity of the other.

  As you know, my name is Logan and I am, as you suspect, a SEAL. My reasoning behind joining the military would make you feel the need to sit down, so go ahead and take a seat.

  After finishing my undergrad, I had been accepted to medical school. I’ve dreamed of being a doctor since I was a little boy. My family owns controlling interest in a fortune five hundred company and my parents were heavy into different philanthropy projects. They entrusted my uncle to run the daily operations of the company, which he failed to do, choosing instead to funnel large amounts of money into an offshore account. When a routine audit found the company's holdings hovering above bankruptcy, all of our assets were frozen—including my tuition. Funny thing about medical school, they expect payment in order to allow you to learn how to become a doctor. I was staring at failure directly in his condescending eye. A friend of mine had a relative who had served in the military as a physician, paying with his time the money they spent on his education. Having a family with money and power, you can imagine my father knew a few Senators and Congressmen. A couple of calls and a signature on my part and my tuition was taken care of. A year later, the missing money had been found and returned to my family. I could have asked my father to make my contract with the military go away, but it wouldn’t have been the right thing to do. My last day as an intern was September eleventh. I woke up in a luxury apartment near Bethesda and went to bed in the back of a C130 headed for Kuwait. A few months later, I was given the opportunity to go to SEAL training, it’s been an adventure with moments I wouldn’t trade for the world and others I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

  I apologize for not writing sooner, as you may know my job keeps me busy and never knowing where I will be next. I am so happy your package found me. At the end of this letter, you will find not only my new address, but also my personal email so we won't have to worry about being censored.

  I do have a confession to make; I know your brother, Ross. I served with him a few years ago and I consider him a true friend. I have always told my family not to send me anything as the military sees fit to give me my basic supplies. I will say, though, that you get a gold star from me when you sent me Cheez-whiz. I mean, who doesn’t love the stuff?

  So please, tell me more about Harper Kincaid. What is your favorite candy? Or better yet, how about this, the next package you send to me, make it as if you were sending it to yourself. Pack it full of your favorite items, sans the tampons and lady razors of course.

  I will share with you this about me; I was born in New York and lived there until I went away for medical school. I have no brothers or sisters, but I did date Lisa James in high school—yes, the Victoria's Secret supermodel. It was a long time ago, but we still keep in touch.

  Waiting patiently to hear from you,

  Logan

  Chapter Four

  Harper

  Today was one of those days where I knew good and well I should have pulled the covers over my head and kept the shop closed. As much as I loved helping the wives of our military, they could be whiny bitches sometimes.

  Take one Ophelia Mosley, current wife of the base Commander and self-appointed queen-bee. I met her during one of the USO events, just after she and her husband arrived, she was all toothy grins and firm handshakes, and I was baffled by her bullshit facade. We were introduced and she became quite animated with excitement when I invited her to come by and take a look around my shop. She came in on a Monday, took a detailed tour, and then returned on Tuesday with a back seat full of clothes. Our first transactions went fine, and her clothes sold in a matter of weeks. She returned a few months later with another back seat full, but this time the clothes looked to have been pul
led from her grandmother’s basement. I reminded her of the possibility these clothes may not sell, but I would try my best. She signed the agreement I had all of my clients sign, clarifying my responsibility to show the clothes for one hundred and twenty days—thirty days past the state requirement. After the allotted time, the seller would have the option of picking up the clothes, paying my twenty percent commission, or forfeiting the clothing to a charity I ran for women attempting to return to the work-force.

  "Harper, retro is in. I paid top dollar for those clothes and they're still perfect!"

  I was at the end of my rope with Ophelia. I knew damn well she didn't spend a dime on them, stole them out of the donation bin at the local thrift store maybe. She huffed and slammed her purse down on my glass counter, her bright red curls bouncing from the force.

  "Fine, Harper, I'll take my clothes and find someone else to sell them.”

  "Ophelia, you're too late,” shaking my head as I turned the form she signed around to face her. Pointing at the date on the page.

  “I’ve already sent all of those clothes to Horizons, as stated in the contract you signed.” Tapping my index finger on the white paper, lifting my eyes from the date to the angry face of Ophelia.

  “You had no right.”

  Flipping the page over, “If the owner fails to appear within five business days after notification—”

  “Exactly!” she screamed. “You never notified me. Now give me my clothing or pay me what we agreed on.”

  Slamming her hand on the glass of my desk, confusing her ability to tell the wives of her husband’s men what to do, with the independent and clearly in charge person who stood before her.

  I turn my attention to my computer, opening the file with her name on it, “Ah, here we go. You were notified, by email, five days prior to the expiration of the contract, and again on the day your grace period began.”

  “I never got any email, this isn’t my fault.” Clicking on the command to print, I waited in vain for my computer to make up its mind to send the read receipt to my printer. The tapping of her nails on the glass of my display case was scratching at my last nerve. I reach over and twist the monitor so she can see what I have on the screen.

  “Sorry, Ophelia, Microsoft has no reason to lie to me. You opened the emails and read them both. For whatever reason, you chose not to come in.” I left the accusation hanging in the air, pursing my lips as I elevated my eyebrows in a quick motion, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “My email was hacked, someone else read them.”

  “Tell it to your bank or credit card company, as it is no concern of mine. You signed a contract and I held up my end.” I didn't give her time to think about it or even answer me.

  "Well, I never!" she exclaimed as she turned and stormed out the door, causing Sarah, my assistant to jump out of her way.

  “You know, you should have tossed her out last year when you saw her with Mayor Craven.” Sarah stood back against the edge of the display window, my silver laptop clutched tightly to her chest, eyes wide in aggravation with Ophelia’s behavior.

  Ignoring her taunting, “Please, tell me that is my laptop in your hands?” I look down at the computer screen as the sound of the printer coming to life pulls at my attention. It’s the story of my life, everything a day late and a dollar short.

  “It is, but I’m holding it ransom until you tell me everything that happened at your shower last weekend.” Holding the silver contraption I’ve dubbed the Silver Devil, as it has given me nothing but trouble since I purchased it less than a year ago, in her right hand, twisting back and forth at her wrist as her face turns from perturbed to inquisitive.

  Sarah and her husband, Mitch, had planned a vacation for this past week almost a year and a half ago, way before my bridal shower was scheduled.

  “Fine,” wadding up the paper I no longer required, I toss it into the recycle bin. “My mother showed up, wearing a dress you could see her crotch through, sans panties but at least a complete wax. My future mother-in-law failed to show, or call, and has avoided speaking to me since then. Oh, and I broke the heel of my shoe when I had to carry my own gifts out of the restaurant.” Sarah’s eyes flicked between mine, her level of amusement fueling my need to animate the story.

  “Wait,” Sarah placed the computer on the glass of the counter, folding her left arm over the cover, and then aiming her index finger in my direction.

  “His momma didn’t show? After all the fuss she raised to have a vegetarian menu available.” Nodding my head as I allowed my shoulders to shrug, this had been one of the many hurdles I’ve had to overcome since the wedding date was chosen and rescheduled once already.

  “Has he spoken to her? Made sure she isn’t lying in a ditch somewhere.”

  Taking in a deep breath through my nose, not ready to share with Sarah the entire conversation.

  “Yes, apparently there was some issue with her transportation or something.” Shaking my head and holding my hand out for my laptop. “He spoke with her right after I got back from the shower,” minus any gifts from his side of the family. I kept the last part to myself, no need stirring up trouble when it didn’t really matter to me to begin with. What I did care about was talking with my brother, Ross, hearing his voice and assuring myself he was doing okay. I hadn’t gotten an email from him in a while, as he was transferring to a new SEAL team.

  “She better not decide to drop in on your bachelorette party as an apology. I have plans to get your liquored up and stick some hot naked men in your face.” Resisting my attempt to take the computer from her. “Not so fast, Harper.” She pulls the laptop off the counter, twisting her body to the side. “I have good news and bad news, which do you prefer first?”

  Letting out an exasperated breath, my threshold of allowable negative things reaching a critical level.

  “Bad first, so you have an opportunity to rebound my pitiful mood.”

  “Okay, your motherboard is fried.”

  “But—” waving my hand in a circle attempting to speed up the recoil.

  “But you're still under warranty, and Mitch is putting the last of your files on the new computer. He will have it here before we leave for Thunder Nation.”

  Sarah has wanted an excuse to visit one of Chesapeake’s more controversial clubs. Opened by one of the original Chippendales dancers, Thunder Nation was an all-male strip club. Certain organizations had tried and failed to shut down the club, but with all the military influence, the city council allowed it to open.

  “Are you sure we can’t go to Aries?”

  “No, we can’t go to Aries.” She tossed back at me, changing her voice to emphasize the condescending tone of her words. “We are going to surround you with hunky, muscled men who want to grind their dicks in your face and take your money.”

  Aries was another new club in the area, opened by the same people; it boasted modern lines and a state of the art sound system. Mitch had won the bid to install all the equipment so Sarah had gotten to attend opening night along with some high-profile celebrities. According to her the hype was overrated as it lacked a decent clientele.

  “You can have that man of yours take you dancing at Aries.”

  “Right, you know he doesn’t go to clubs.” Scrunching up my nose, I try to hide the aggravation I felt with our lack of social interactions. A flaw I had to add to the enduring qualities list when it came to him.

  “Maybe I’ll get dressed up and go by myself.” My back straight as I faced her, challenging her to call my bluff.

  “Keep telling yourself that. We both know you’ll park your behind in front of the television just like the two of you do every other night.” The bell over the door signaled a new customer. Glancing over, a smile spreads over my face as Lance Ranoka, the delivery guy, walked in with a smile on his face and a white cup in his left hand.

  “Hey, Harper.” He called as he allowed two ladies behind him to walk through the open door. “I thought you could use a cup of coffee
this morning.”

  Lance was a sweet man, who worked for one of the local delivery services. When I first opened this shop, he came by and introduced himself, offering the use of his truck transporting the donated clothing over to the small shop behind the local church. He came in one day and noticed the cup I had from the gas station several blocks over and offered to bring me a cup of coffee whenever he made a delivery over there.

  “You’re a lifesaver.” Taking the cup from his hands, he tips his hat down, and then pushes his dolly into the shop. Lance blends into any room he is in, not drawing attention to himself or creating a scene. Most of the time he leaves and I never hear the bell sound.

  Sarah was attending to the ladies who walked in. She has never been a fan of Lance’s, no real justification behind why, but she avoids him when he comes in. I turn away from Sarah and the new customers to ask Lance a question, but like most days, he pulls his impression of a ninja and silently leaves. I’m about to click out of my email when I notice Ross has sent me something. Swinging my eyes over to Sarah, confident she has the sale in the bag, I click on the letter and begin to read.

  TO: AlexGrl17

  FROM: Ross. Kincaid ENS @OPS

  CC:

  SUBJECT: Hey Sis!!

  Harper,

  Hey, Sis! Finally made it to Afghanistan and am now waiting for the team I’m joining to get back from Korengal Valley. You remember when I was there before, right after I joined the military? Anyway, they are finishing up a mission and I expect to meet up with my new LT in the next day or so. I’m excited for this one, as I’ve worked with the team before. Anyway, I heard from dad. He mentioned you had your bridal shower recently and something about mom showing up. I understand why you're inviting her to your wedding, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up she will be anything like Amanda’s mom when we got married. She isn’t exactly mother of the year material. In any event, I have my ticket purchased and I will be there to help you celebrate this new chapter in your life, the two of you deserve all the happiness in the world. My Skype and Face time are working if you want to talk.