Not much chit chat from me today, guys, in a bad mood, just hope you enjoy this part.

Jackie

PART 19 – Sons Of Plunder

0645 Local
Lt. Commander Greg Vukovic's Apartment
Ocean View, California

A loud, banging noise awoke Vukovic from his peaceful slumber. Opening one eye, he found the red LED lights of his clock radio stating that it was too early on a Sunday to be awake. Finding the loud noise to have suddenly stopped, he turned over, curled himself further into his blanket and attempted to find sleep again. But once again that banging noise told him otherwise. "Ugh." Just in case he'd missed it the first time, Vic turned around and glared at the clock. Yup, definitely too early to be up. Nevertheless, he threw the covers off, mumbling something about 'Sunday's' and it being the 'blessed day of sleep' as he headed towards the front door of his apartment. He took a peak out of the peephole, then pulled away suddenly. "What the hell?" Chancing to look again, he found the exact same thing he saw no more than two seconds earlier.

When he opened the door, he found Ted Jarvis at the other end. The man pushed passed him into the apartment, patting him on the chest as he did so in a manly sort of 'hello.' He came in holding a small brown paper bag which he put down in order to remove his jacket. "Hey, nice place here, Vic." Curiously, Vukovic watched as Jarvis made his way into his home, shrugging off a light jacket which he threw over the lounge chair. "You look like hell, Vic." He pointed out with a sardonic grin. "Might want to wake up, I need your brain working properly."

This was definitely not a dream and yet, it really had a twilight zone effect. "Uh, Jarvis? What the hell are you doing here?" He cast a glance towards the brown paper bag which was then shoved at him.

Jarvis grinned sheepishly. "Just so you know I appreciate things and that I am a good guy, I came with gifts." At Vic's off expression, he clarified. "Bagel, cream cheese, coffee." He waved his hand in the air for dramatic effect.

"Oh." Coffee. Yes, things were always right in the world after he had his coffee. Vic shuffled towards the bar which was connected to the kitchen and propped up on one of the chairs as he dug through the bag. "There's no cream and sugar." He said in a sleep laden voice as he pulled out the contents. Indeed, there was a cup of coffee but no cream or sugar.

"Can't seem to please anyone these days." Sighing, he walked past Vukovic and towards the fridge, pulling out a half gallon of milk and then reached for a glass jar labeled 'sugar' which was on the counter. "Here ya go, pal."

Something about it all seemed strange to Vic. I mean, a man he barely knew was rummaging around his kitchen and bringing him breakfast? If he didn't know a few of Jarvis' tawdry secrets told to him two nights before, he would have sworn the other man was vying for affection.

Jarvis stood up, minding the coffee table as he stepped closer to Vukovic. "You and I had a deal, Vic. . and I expect you to keep up your end of the bargain."

It was much too early for this, his brain barely had a moment to register much of anything and now his new best friend wanted to talk shop? "Look, Jarvis, I went to bed late, you woke me up early. . ." He trailed off, reaching for the milk and sugar, personalizing his cup of java.

"Sleep is overrated." At Vic's raised eyebrow, Jarvis sighed and clarified. "You really do not need more than a couple of hours. The more you sleep, the more time you waste. . .The more wasted time you have, the more things pile up. . .the more things pile up. . . the more things pile. ."

"Okay, okay. I get it." Shaking his head Vic took a bite of his bagel and then a swig of coffee to chase it down. It was as the dark liquid energy ran through his veins that he realized this really wasn't a dream and that Jarvis was, indeed, in his apartment. . .waiting. He swallowed down a bit more coffee, wincing as the hot liquid burned his throat. "What is it that you want from me?"

What was it that he wanted? Somehow, Jarvis doubted that Vic was really the guy to help with the job, but in his years in SWAT he'd learned that even the most difficult of persons were easy to manipulate. Though Vic had some sort of intelligence to him, he could see rough edges which made it easy for him to crawl in and take what he wanted. "Help, assistance, support, encouragement. . .I want a sort of benefactor."

"Benefactor?" The more Jarvis spoke, the more his sleep laden mind cleared. The more it cleared, the more he realized that he may have signed a deal with the Devil incarnate. "And what sort of thing am I supposed to be beneficing?"

"I need information about Rabb, which only you can get." He leaned against the bar. "You have expertise with investigations. I am sure you can dig something up. . .I want something juicy." Jarvis rubbed his hand almost as if he were about to savor a delicacy. There had to be something about his former boss which could aid in his mission.

Vic shrugged. "You could get that without my help. You're a PI, I am sure you have ways to get more information than I ever could."

"If I still worked for Rabb and Galindez, sure. . .but I don't, so I can't get into our high tech computers." Grinning, he walked around Vic, propping up on the stool next to him. "I have a plan, but it always works better if you have some dirt first."

"A plan?" Something about the way Jarvis mentioned that word had Vic feeling an extreme amount of unease. Just what had he gotten himself into? "What do you mean by that? What plan?" Yep, this was definitely beginning to sound worse by the second.

Hmm. Just how much could he tell Vic about his scheme, his mission? Lying was usually the best option and surprisingly he found it would work perfectly. "Rabb's been after this little drug ring. . . He's trying to get in good with the guy's ex-girlfriend. I say, we let it leak to them that Rabb is the one following them. . .That will take Rabb off of our hands."

Yes, but that sounded much too permanent for Vic's liking. "That sounds dangerous."

Somehow, Jarvis managed to hide the roll of his eyes and a laughter that was fighting to bubble from within. So much for a man with gonads; in his book, Vic had none. "No one will get hurt, I can promise you that. . .I just want Rabb to go down."

"One thing is messing with him, another thing is destroying him completely. . .I'm not so sure that we have the same agenda here." Screw agendas, how exactly had he gotten here? How exactly was he making arrangements with, what he believed to be, nothing more than a common thug? Ah, yes, alcohol. He hadn't been drunk that night when they spoke, but he had been inebriated enough to agree to help. And in return, he received information that could damn him, should he refuse his services.Yes, he'd certainly sold his soul to the Devil. "Look, maybe. . .Maybe this was done in haste?" Nothing was worth getting involved in these sorts of matters. Nothing was worth it.

And, then again, you could always play the 'Mac card.' Something that Jarvis knew damned well would overturn Vic's thinking. It was a disease really, the want to consume a woman so much he'd be willing to toss aside his career, and Jarvis was milking it for all it was worth. "Do you want MacKenzie to be yours or not?" He slammed his fist into the bar, jarring the other man to wake up. "Because, I tell you, get Rabb out of your way and she's there. . .You told me yourself that she gave you those types of look before? Hey, it can happen. . .Hell, Vic, we can even mold you into the hero, make Rabb the bad guy. . .All skirts are suckers for a Prince Charming."

There was a time, back in Washington and that brief time in San Diego, when it appeared as though she wanted him. However, when nothing came of it, he figured it was MacKenzie's way to toy with him, set him up and then go in for the kill. It wasn't implausible either, Mac was damned good at what she did. All it did was make him want her even more. Still, there was one key thing in this whole gimmick that Jarvis was trying to sell – if she was treating him the way she was lately, there was nothing there. "She's never going to be mine, okay. We're different ranks and, in case you didn't know, that's a big 'no-no' in the military community. It's called fraternization."

"And I bet you've fraternized before, haven't you Vic?" The Naval Officer didn't have to say a damned thing, the answer was written in his eyes which he cast down in shame. Out of his pocket, Jarvis produced a letter, which he opened up and placed in front of Vuckovic. "Chief Angela Van Eede." If he hadn't been staring directly, he may not have noticed the flinch.

"That was a long time ago. . ." Vic grunted out, his voice low. He was an Ensign when Angela caught his eye. He'd flirted with her and she had flirted back, but he'd read the signs completely wrong. After drinks at a local pub, he'd driven her home, she'd asked him in. It was a mistake on her part to believe it would be a one time thing. He'd wanted more, much more, and couldn't bare to see her with another. One thing lead to another and three weeks later, she sang like a canary to their CO. The only reason why Vic hadn't suffered anything past a slap on the wrist was because he'd dug up his own dirt on her and used it to shut her up. The case was dropped quietly. "Well, if you can get that information, you definitely don't need me."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Jarvis waved a finger in front of him, grinning slightly when the other man's irritation grew. He just couldn't do a damned thing about it. "I have my methods, but it would be easier to have someone on the inside."

"I know what the problem is. . .you're worried about her getting hurt, she won't." He patted Vic on the back which was eerily comforting. "I just want Rabb and Galindez Investigative off the map. . . Hell, if Rabb is as good a lawyer as he thinks he is, he could open up one of them lovely firms."

Somehow, between his sleep laden haze and the fact that he was, suddenly, feeling crappy, Vic came out with a dispassionate plan. A way to fix things and not entirely put himself in harm's way. "You mentioned a computer. . I may have a way in for you." He managed to be awake enough to wave off any protests Jarvis may have wanted to give him. "As you probably know, we have a computer that can bring up information on anyone if they are on the database. It's much more complex than even those in the PD."

Of course he knew this. It was the crown jewel for someone in his position. "Your point being?"

The plan probably wasn't quite what Jarvis was looking for, but Vic would literally hand him not only an olive branch, but more like the whole tree. "How would you like to be a Marine for the day?"

Jarvis broke out in laughter, this was better than he could have imagined. "That would be perfect, Vukovic. . .Just, perfect."

"Good." Little did Vic know that not only had he signed a deal with the Devil, but he'd also just bore his jugular and that of his 'friends' to a man who had another agenda. Then again, how was he to know that Jarvis had played them all, that he'd always been on Patterson and Quinn's pay list.

2100 Local
Mac's House
San Diego, California

Inseparable would, probably, be the best word to be used when describing Harm and Mac. Something about the conversation the night before and the time of enjoyment they'd spent together all day had them both on a high. Mac giggled as they sat in the garage, inside of her Corvette with the engine off. "Harm!" She said out loud, slapping his hand, which was trailing up her thigh, away. The weekend had reverted them back to being teenagers. As much as he tried, his sheepish grin wouldn't sway her. "I am not, I repeat, AM NOT, getting it on with you in my Vette, thank you very much. . .That's why I have a bed upstairs." Her finger pointed upwards towards the ceiling.

Stopping his hand from moving, Harm glanced at her with a raised brow. "You do realize how odd that sounded, right?"

"I'm trying to be diplomatic here." She shrugged and despite previous arguments, leaned in to receive a heady kiss.

Chuckling, Harm pulled away, placing his forehead on her own. "Ah, yes, plenty of diplomacy here in your car." His eyes shifted towards the garage door which led into her home. "And, as much as it pains me to agree, you're right about the bed idea."

"'Course I am, that's why you love me." She said cheekily, then jumped out of the car, Harm not too far behind.

As she worked on opening the locks to the door, Harm nuzzled her neck, making her giggle. "I'm really loving that sound, Mac."

"Yea, well, tell someone about it and you're going to be one dead flyboy." She finally managed to open the door. Once they stepped inside and she turned on a light, Harm felt her stiffen completely. Had he done something wrong? Pushed too hard to spend just a little more time with her? "Oh God."

Harm's eyes scanned the room, widening as big as saucers when it registered to him that someone had destroyed Mac's beautiful home. "Oh no." The sofa was, literally, gutted out. Pieces of foam and fabric ripped out of place and thrown haphazardly on the remaining portion and the floor. The coffee table was overturned and cracked in half. Her favorite lounge chair had some sort of red paint on it with a circle and an 'X.' The TV looked as though someone had thrown a rock through it and though the entertainment center was still standing, some sticky goo was dripping from its surface. "Mac?"

She stepped farther into her home, carefully traipsing around the mess that was all over the floor. Books, pictures and other mementos were completely destroyed. Stepping into the dining room, she found the table was intact as was the things in the kitchen. But, on the wall, starting from the living room, was a red spray painted line which crept up the wall and towards the stairs. Blindly she followed, glancing upwards in hopes that she would find someone in her home. Someone she could hopefully beat into submission for what they had done. "Mac, don't go up there." Harm pleaded, heading up with her.

At the top landing, she turned and headed straight into her bedroom. The door had been ripped out of its hinge and much of that red spray pain adorned her beautifully painted walls. Stopping at the edge of the bed, something on the wall took her very breath away and not in a good way. It was there in the same red paint, dripping downwards. "Oh, no. . .Oh God, no." This wasn't just vandalism, this had a purpose, a motive.

Hearing her voice, Harm nearly ran from the office which had been used as his room over to Mac's side. He found her staring up at the walls, tears running down her face and a look of anguish in her eyes that threatened to choke him. Turning to see what had disturbed her so greatly he found, in angry red pain, the word 'Whore.' Wrapping his arms around her, he turned Mac away from the wall and made her face him. "Mac, we need to call the police."

"Michael's out." She was sure of it now, though she couldn't understand how people just managed to escape from jail. What the hell were the prison officials doing? "I. .I can feel it, he's out." And she could too, as her feeling of happiness turned into that of worry.

Harm shook his head. That couldn't be, things had to be wrong. "How do you know?"

"I can smell his cologne. . .I can smell HIM." Perhaps that was the one bad thing about being intimate with someone, the fact that you had an ingrained knowledge of their personal habits and their personal smell. "Call the police."

Fishing through his pockets, Harm produced her Corvette keys, which he handed over to her. "Go downstairs, get in the car and stay there."

She stared at him with a funny expression. "Harm, he's not here."

"I know that. . .but, it's better if you don't have to see any of this. . .I'll call the police from my cell phone." He was trying to be strong for her, rational, and it was better for her that she won't be around to see anything else that he should find. Thankfully, she didn't put up an argument. Grabbing his cell phone he called the police and then made his next call to Mike Benson, the lead investigator on his staff. "Mike, sorry for calling on your day off. . .Remember the case I took you off of last week?. . .I need you back on it, ASAP. . .I think Mr. Rose might have skipped jail."

After relaying information to Benson about the situation, he took a quick survey of the bedroom which was even more destroyed than the living room. He felt the bile rise up in his throat as he noticed that the bed sheets which he and Mac had slept on just a few days earlier, had been soiled. It wasn't urine, he noted, but getting closer the distinctive musk of semen was in the air. "Damn you, Michael." God help him if Michael made an appearance, he would kill him. Of that he was sure.

2345 Local
Burnett Residence
La Jolla, California

"Thank you, mom." As he stepped into his parents' home, Trish Burnett wrapped her son up in a tight hug. It wasn't necessarily a concerned hug, it was more the fact that he'd brought Mac with him. Despite the fact that she and Mattie had annoyed Harm into joining the ball with Mac, the two still didn't know the status of that relationship. In fact, they didn't even know Harm had taken the yacht out. Extricating himself from his mother's grip, he turned to Mac. "Mom, you remember Mac."

Remember her? Hell, Trish would have moved Heaven and Earth to make sure the younger woman was a permanent part of Harm's life from the first instant he mentioned her. "Hello, Mrs. Burnett." Mac smiled shyly, extending a hand to shake Trish's. They had met for the first time several years ago during some investigation in California. Harm had invited her to dinner with the family and though she was reluctant at first, found that his parents were quite fun to be around. The last time they had met, things weren't so well. Harm had almost drowned when his F-14 crashed at sea. It almost made her tear up as she remembered Trish thanking her for saving her son. "It's nice to. . .ufmfpff."

"It's Trish." Wrapping her arms around the younger woman, Trish enveloped Mac in a tight hug. "Sarah, it's great to see you again." Reluctantly, she stepped back, noticing that she was, pretty much, squashing the Marine to her. Taking Mac's hands, she led her through the house and towards the sofa where she already had an herbal tea prepared. "Mac, I want you to know, you can stay here as long as you want."

Turning to Harm, she raised a brow in amusement. Earlier that evening, when he had suggested this change of venue, she'd completely decided against it. Her house was, exactly that – hers. And, she wasn't going to let some ex of hers rule her life. But, there was something in Harm's eyes, a concern that warmed her beyond belief. She didn't like seeing him worry and if this little move put him at ease, so be it. "Thank you Trish. Believe me, I appreciate it."

"I made you some nice herbal tea, it has a bit of chamomile so that should help relax you. . . A robbery can shake up anyone, even a Marine." She pointed out with a sweet smile, handing Mac a cup. "Harmon, I put you and Mac in your old bedroom since Mattie has the spare." Her saccharine sweet smile was not lost on him as it was abundantly clear that the woman was trying her best to put him and the Marine in the same living space. Little did she know.

Harm would have shot her daggers if he could. "Thanks, Mom." Glancing up the stairs, he noticed the house to be rather quiet. "Is Mattie still up?"

Almost as if on queue one Annapolis Cadet by the name of Matilda Grace ventured down the steps. "Hey, what's the commotion about?" It was almost as if her guardian was chopped liver. Racing down the stairs, Mattie ran over to Mac, hugging her tightly. It had been much too long since the two had met and despite the fact that, after everything, she was on Harm's side, she had to admit, his version of what had happened between him and Mac sounded fishy.

"Hey kiddo." Mac said with a smile as she wrapped Mattie in a hug. The last time she had seen the girl, she'd been laying on a hospital bed, clinging to consciousness. Now, she was Mattie again, full of life and excitement. "Wow, it's. . .It's really great to see you doing so well."

Mattie took a seat on the coffee table. "Took me some time, but, ta da." She opened her arms, chuckling as the other two women did the same. "What are you doing here?"

Quietly, Harm had been watching the scene unfold with three of his favorite women. There was no longer a reason for him to fool himself because he knew, deep down inside, that this was the makings of something that had eluded him for so long. Something that he craved as much as the woman he loved – a family. "Someone broke into Mac's house, so I thought it would be safer if she stayed here with us."

That put her on high alert. "Are you okay?"

Mac shook her head. "Not really. . .I mean, I know I'm a Marine and we're supposed to be strong, but one thing is fighting a war where you know things are going to happen. Another thing is for someone to come into your home. . .It's a bit unsettling." She sipped a little more of the tea, allowing its warmth to heal her from the inside. All and all, it could have been worse. Despite the fact that Michael had destroyed several things precious to her, the house was still standing. She was alive and so was Harm. The rest of the things could be replaced and the things that couldn't be, well, maybe it was time to just start new memories. Despite herself, Mac couldn't hold back a yawn. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"C'mon, Marine. Bed time." Harm offered a hand to Mac, pulling her up to her feet. He grabbed the two duffel bags which she had brought and headed up the stairs to his bedroom.

Mattie watched as the two left, finding something completely refreshing about their relationship. "Is it me or do they look like . . .?"

Trish chuckled. "Wishful thinking."

Upstairs, Harm led Mac through the hallway and down to his old bedroom. He flipped on a light, closed the door behind them and watched as Mac looked around. "There's a balcony, it over looks the beach and I have a private bathroom in here, so you can get cleaned up. . .and. . ." But, she wasn't paying attention to him. "Mac?"

Even though so much had happened in such little time, her mind wasn't concentrating on Michael or what he had done. Mac had something else on her mind. Something simple and real, something that made her smile. On the dresser were, at least, five pictures of Harm and Harm Sr.; pictures she'd never seen before. Taking one, she stared at it, laughing gently at the look of a Harmon Rabb Junior that couldn't be more than four years old. "You were a cute kid." There he was sitting atop of his father's shoulders with a gleeful expression. "You look so happy."

Harm sighed deeply, then settled himself on the edge of the bed. "Sad part is that I don't remember that. . .Lately, I don't remember all that much about. . .about him." He wasn't crying, not yet, but Mac could hear the heavy sentiment in his voice. "Memories are few and far between."

She settled herself next to him, still holding the picture in her hand. "You know, one of the things that angered me the most about tonight was the fact that he destroyed so many mementos. . .Pictures, things that I needed in order to keep a memory."

"I'm sorry, Mac."

"Don't be. . .This is actually a good thing." Standing, she put the picture back in its place then came by and kneeled before Harm, taking his hands. "We're human. It's alright for memories to fade as long as you remember that they were there in the first place. . .When memories fade, you create new ones."

"I'd like that very much." He pulled her up, standing with her as he took her into his arms and kissed her gently, softly. These were the moments he'd lived for; the times when they were just Harm and Sarah. "I'm going to help you Mac, as much as I can. . .We'll nail Michael."

Mac nodded, not quite able to believe the simplicity in his words. Despite their tender moments shared this weekend and the fact that they had grown, on this issue, it was difficult to trust him. "I'm hoping this isn't some cosmic joke being played on us. . .The moment things are good between us. . ."

He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her. "This has nothing to do with us, Mac. . .This has to do with one sick bastard. . ."

"Yes. A sick bastard who I just so happened to go out with?" Sighing, she backed away from him, tossing her hands up in the air. "You know, I love action and adventure, but, just once, I would like things to be BORING."

"I know what you mean. . ." Not allowing her to move too far away, he took her hand and pulled her back into his embrace. "Listen, I already have one of the boys snooping around to see what he can find. . .until then, I want you to talk to the base CO and make sure you have protection, alright?" Harm tucked a finger under her chin, raising her head up so he could look in her eyes. "I mean it, Mac. . .I can't do my job unless I know you're alright."

Coyly, she ran her hands over his forearms, coming to lock them behind his neck. "Are you worried about me, flyboy?"

"Yes." Turning her around, he pointed Mac towards the bathroom door. "Now, get your six in there and take a shower. . .We both have to be up early." He patted her six with a grin, then chuckled as she pouted on the way in. Harm waited for Mac to turn on the shower before reaching for his cellphone. "Damnit. . .No messages." Frowning, he tossed it on the bed. The day after Mac had received that disturbing call from Michael, Harm had put a plan into effect to make sure the man wasn't trying something. It had fallen by the wayside as his investigation on Patterson took a big leap and he discovered that the way in would be by using her friend. Now, he only hoped he could find a way to grab Michael before he did anymore damage.