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“It’s not you; it’s them,” said Marcel, squeezing her.

“But it’s my reputation, Marcel. I can’t ever work in non-profit again if this is true. No one would trust me or any foundation I work for. That makes me sad.”

“Please don’t be sad,” he whispered in her ear. “I will do anything for your happiness.” Amy couldn’t help but smile at him, kissing him sweetly.

“I am happy. Happier than I’ve been in my entire life. Look, if you want to find out more about Hermes, their corporate offices are in Utah, not far from Zion National Park.”

“Have you been there?” asked Nine.

“Once. I was supposed to be part of a large group of people meeting to take part in a week-long training. We all arrived on a Monday morning after flying in on Sunday, and then it was announced the training was canceled. We were given return tickets back home the same day. It was exhausting.”

“Exhausting and a waste of money,” frowned Baptiste. “How many people?”

“Maybe twenty or thirty. I was confused because there weren’t that many people at Prometheus, so I figured they had other non-profits. That’s when I learned they were an investment group. There was a random brochure on a table in the lobby, and I picked it up and read it.”

“Did anyone see you?” asked Rafe.

“I’m sure everyone did. We were all seated in the same area, just waiting.” Rafe turned to his brothers, then Nine.

“We need to find out more about Hermes.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Good morning, Jenn,” smiled the handsome man with the salt and pepper hair. He had a rugged face with lines etched by hard work and hard times. But he was the best boss Jenn had ever had.

“Morning, Cap,” smiled the woman at the reception desk. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“Great. Our warrior run was a huge success. We had donations totaling more than six million for the traumatic brain injury center, which included three separate million-dollar donations from new corporate donors. It was amazing.”

“Congratulations! I know how hard everyone worked to make that happen.”

“Thanks, Jenn. Let me know when Coop arrives.”

She nodded as he walked back toward his office. Other than Jenn, he was always the first one in the office in the morning. Retired Captain Tony Ebert, U.S. Air Force. He’d started Warriors for Warriors ten years ago when he retired, focusing on the needs of those with disabilities, especially traumatic brain injury.

Their foundation was now one of the largest non-profits in the country, helping America’s warriors weave their way into a new reality and new world. With the help of other retired veterans, they used their know-how of the system, relationships with the V.A., and other non-profits to help those most in need.

He set his leather satchel on the desk and took his seat, opening his computer. Immediately, a screen began flashing.

Your computer is infected with a virus. DO NOT turn it off or you will lose everything and further infect your server. Call 1-875-922-2222 for help in clearing the virus from your system.

“Fuck me,” he growled. “Jenn! Jenn! Did you get a virus notification on your computer?”

“No. Don’t touch it until Sammy gets here. He’ll know what to do.”

More than an hour later, his IT guy was sitting at his desk staring at the same screen he’d seen an hour before.

“Well?”

“I think I’m going to phone a friend,” he said, frowning. He dialed a number on his cell phone and waited. “Code? You old bastard, I need your help.”

“Hey, I need you guys to come in here. Now!” said Code over the speaker system.

A dozen thundering footsteps ran down the hallway to the comms room. On the split screen on the wall was an old friend and an old enemy.

“Shit, Cap, what the hell did you do?” frowned Nine.

“I didn’t do a fucking thing, but why do you assholes look better than me?” he growled. The men all chuckled, shaking their heads. Most were fifteen to twenty years older than Cap, maybe more. “This was on my computer when I came in this morning. Sammy didn’t touch it, instead calling your boy, Code.”

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