Page 39 of Signed, SEALed, Delivered

“Virginia Greyson is dead.”

“No shit?”

“Like I said, she got in bed with someone she shouldn't have. One of Korin’s men took her out during a prison transfer.”

I had to see this for myself and have something to show Kennedy, to put a smile back on her face. Logging into Google, I find an article on a major news page.

What started off as a security breach within the OPM, Office of Personnel Management, has turned into a Federal nightmare involving the armed forces. In a report released today, the Department of Justice admits a security breach, which occurred previously, is at the center of an Internet scam. MilitaryConnections.com, was an online dating website geared toward matching civilian men and women with active duty military personnel who were looking for a connection. The free service collected information, fed it into a database, and then matched you with the perfect person. Seemed simple enough, no money to participate and no face to face searching required. All moves along while you correspond with the guy, or gal, you've been assigned. Too bad the person isn't real. Two names were created, Harmony Wells and Zackery Michels, each given to the seventy thousand subscribers.

Investigators say during the OPM breach, a little known hacker named Virginia Greyson, developed a software program where the information the user gave was given back to them in a series of emails. The victims were convinced the relationships were real and blossoming. In documents filed with the department, an email was sent detailing a mission the active duty was given, detailing he or she would hope they would wait for them to return. Days later another email was sent, depicting an emergency at home, with the soldier unable to help a sick relative. Once the money changed hands, the service member became lost in action. Records show, one million dollars was stolen from victims spanning the globe.

“Viper, I can hear the keys clicking, you forget my brother is a computer geek. So tell me about this girl, the one who owns your balls.”

I can't contain the smile as I think about her. “Her name is Kennedy. She’s beautiful and smart as fuck. She works with veterans and others with spinal cord injuries. Her brother co-owns the shop with me.”

“I’m happy for you man, a good girl will do wonders for you. Wait until you have little ones running around.”

I won’t lie, I’ve thought of what our children would look like, with Kennedy's bright smile and my hair and eyes. “Maybe someday. Until then, I need you to keep an ear open for any movement from this Russian fuck or Aarash. I have a bad feeling he’s planning something.”

***

“Tell me you’re not fucking with my sister.” Jason walked into the shop just as I said goodbye to Diesel, slamming limp and damaged flower stems on the desk. “Cause I swear to God, I will beat your ass.”

Anger radiated from Jason's body, his shaking hands evidence of the adrenalin running through his bloodstream. I’ve dealt with my fair share of pissed off big brothers, angry with what myself, or Zane, had allegedly done.

“Where did you find those?” Keeping my tone level, as I had no real gauge for how quick Jason was with his fists. I kept a handgun in the drawer to my left and one in my station, but didn't feel we had reached that level.

“Outside my front door. There’s glass on the step and a bunch of these things down the stairs.” Reaching inside the drawer, I pulled out my gun and slid it into the small of my back. “Where are you going?” Jason shouted from behind me, the anger he had moments ago changing to confusion.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Retrieving my phone from the counter, I pulled up the app that held my security footage. “I’m not fucking with your sister, but this motherfucker is. Some douche bag named Ethan. He followed her from Colorado, even after she told him she had a boyfriend. When she came down this morning, she asked me if I’d left the military because of drugs. That bastard planted a seed in her mind, making her question who I really am.”

“So why is he hanging around, breaking flowers outside of my door?” Jason's hands were on his hips, his defense of Kennedy switching from me to Ethan.

“Either he’s a desperate son-of-a-bitch, or he’s someone I need to call my team in to help deal with.” My phone began to vibrate in my pocket; silently hoping it was Kennedy calling to say she missed me. The name on the screen put my defenses on high, “Aunt Ella?”

“Zach, I need you to get out here. Some man showed up demanding to talk with Kennedy. She asked him to leave, but he refuses. I’ve called the sheriff, but you know how long it will take them to get here.”

Jason locked the front door as I ended the call with my aunt. Trying not to think of what Ethan could do to Kennedy before I got there. There were so many things I still wanted to do with her, places I wanted to share with her, tell her I love her.

“Hey, man, sorry about earlier.” Jason apologized as he climbed into my truck. When I saw my girl jump down from the cab of her truck, a yearning filled my chest. The next day, I went to the dealership and grabbed one for myself.

“No need to apologize. It's your job as her brother to protect her, just as I’ll do for Savannah.” As soon as his door closed, my foot found the floor, the gas pedal smashed in between.

Jason flings out his arms to steady himself, smacking his hand against the glass, and then reaching for the ‘oh shit’ handle, as I jump into traffic. “Dude, you’re gonna get us killed.”

Shooting him a slide glance, a wisp of a smile creeps onto my face. “Clearly you’ve never had to out run an RPG.”

I thought Jason's neck would snap from the force of him looking in my direction. Under any other circumstances, I would have found this situation amusing, giving him a reason to shit his pants. While breaking a number of traffic laws and nearly hitting a few cars, growing up in this area, I knew of a few short cuts to avoid traffic. The last two miles separating me from Kennedy housed a field partially owned by my Aunt. I ignored the dirt road since it would have taken us a few more minutes to get to the entrance of the stables. Choosing instead to cut through the field and across the dried up creek bed. I slam my truck in park as the white fence of the stables came into view.

Jumping over the fence, I didn’t care if Jason was on my heels or tossing his cookies in the loose gravel of the drive. Raised voices combined with the high-pitched sound of an upset horse guided me to the stall where Aunt Ella housed one of her more difficult horses. The sound of a scream and loud crash of wood made my world stand still as thoughts of an injured Kennedy filled my mind.

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