Mistakes are my own. Litterally posting from INSIDE my pool. God bless waterproof phone covers.
Chapter 25
Gloomy as it was, today was still perfect for the younger officer. He woke up with a definite pep, treated himself to an expensive breakfast in one of London's tea houses and had to actively stop from strutting into the building.
He was still in pain both physically and mentally or at least, Gregory Vukovic needed to sell that narrative. That didn't stop him from flirting with the new mail clerk, a pretty young thing far too easily seduced. He enjoyed the chase, the women that wouldn't make it easy for him. He loved to see them crack and then pant over him like a bitch in heat. Still, the girl could be a little idle amusement in this current drought.
When he walked down the corridor toward his office, he didn't expect to see General Creswell heading his way with Admiral Hollings in tow. He snapped his best salute, gave a snazzy "Sir" and mentally padded himself on the back when Hollings asked to speak privately.
Today would be the start of many exciting days and he couldn't wait for Rabb's trial to begin. Vic was anxious to see Mac at work. He wanted to follow her every move, every word and the very breath which passed through her lovely lips when the Captain's career was trashed.
It made him giddy to see the former partners on opposite sides - their relationship would be severed once and for all. The Colonel would then need a shoulder, a friend and Vic knew her feelings for him would blossom - they always did.
He knew what she needed and he was just the kind of man to give into all of her dirty whims. She'd be satisfied in ways Rabb never could because an ego that big on an asshole jet jock meant the man was overcompensating for something.
While at sea he constantly thought of her, a dream he believed was lost until those gorgeous eyes locked on his one rainy London morning. She was still so beautiful and his body nearly twitched with the anticipation of having her in his bed.
Lord, thinking of her skin against his, her wetness against his lips, her mouth wrapped around him made Vic so hard that he needed to relieve himself in his office before facing the day.
Yeah, he was going to enjoy the destruction of Harmon Rabb and the spoils he'd win from that battle.
"Sir?" Vic missed part of Hollings' discussion like the part where Mac had recused herself. It caught him completely off guard and then the words "marriage" and "the captain" were spoken and an abyss swallowed him whole.
He was numb when the Admiral left and he actually pinched himself to ensure this was not a nightmare. A groan escaped him, the kind that made him sound like an upset child and that is when he snapped.
Without requesting permission to see his acting commanding officer, Vic headed down the hall, past the bullpen and through Harm's ante-room.
"Sir, you are not allowed-"
"Blow it out your ass petty officer." Vukovic's day had begun so well. Now he acted like a mad man pushing past Harm's yeoman, Petty Officer Marion and descending into the office like a bat out of hell. "You fucking bitch."
Anger had a way of bringing out the worst in people, for Vic it brought out the animal inside that he didn't really want to tame. He lunged at the pretty Marine, felt his body propel itself at Mac like a torpedo and just when he might have grabbed and hurt her, a wall of a man stood between them.
"Touch her and I will fucking kill you."
A moment later he was falling, his back slamming into a coffee table that broke into a million pieces.
Fuck.
He was having such a good day.
The dressing down hadn't been as bad as expected. Creswell was upset. In retrospect they should have given the JAG a heads up about their nuptials but Harm feared some order would be given to prevent their wedding from taking place.
It was that old 'ask for forgiveness not permission' concept that angered Creswell. In the end the man expressed his contentment and delight. The gruff Marine was a bit of a softy when it came to romance and admitted that Chegwidden had imparted some wisdom about the former partners like the eventual conclusion of what everyone assumed. "Did you ever think you were dating without realizing that you were?"
The General's comment made something click. In Harm's mind images of late nights in their respective apartments, shared dinners and weekends spent visiting museums played on a loop.
No, they never dated but they fought like a married couple, loved like one as well. They cared for one another in ways that words failed to describe. Mac was the missing part of him, she was his person and it hurt that they waited so long.
After a quick brief - Harm's trial would be delayed until Mac chose her replacement - Cresswell left. His goal, much like Hollings', was to find who had been helping Vukovic and why. It was not to say that the man didn't have a right to press charges, everything else had rubbed the General the wrong way.
And now, a mere half hour since the General left, Harm stood over Vukovic, towering above the younger man whom he wished to hit repeatedly.
It was the sound of his yeoman yelling that had him stepping out of his office's private bathroom in time to see Vukovic hurling himself at Mac. She was leaning against his desk, caught off guard and before a hand could touch her, Harm wedged himself between his wife and her attacker. "Touch her and I will fucking kill you."
The younger officer was caught off guard and was ill prepared when the Captain shoved him so hard he fell backwards onto a wooden coffee table that splintered from the force. The fall winded Vukovic enough to prevent him from standing when all six foot four inch of Harmon Rabb Jr rushed towards him. "Shit! Don't!"
PTSD occured in some of the oddest forms. For Vic, it was the memory of Harm's fist breaking his nose then dropping his body onto the sticky floor of some stingy London pub. Survival instinct made him curl into the fetal position while he braced for impact. If Rabb didn't kill him last time, he certainly would now. The voice of an angel stopped the beating from ever happening.
"Harm, don't."
Two words from her lips was all it took to burst the bubble of anger that controlled him. Harm's fist which was itching to strike fell to his side and he stopped two feet short of where Vukovic lay. "Don't you ever touch her again you piece of shit."
Mac's hand wrapped around his bicep, the other turned his face so that he saw her and only her. Those amber eyes were full of such concern that it made Harm regain his control. There were only a handful of persons he wanted to act violently towards and it pissed him off that Vukoviv had weaseled his way to the top of that list. "Take a breath…let out slowly. He's not worth it."
"You're right, he's not worth it." Despite his anger, Harm reached down to help Vukovic stand and widening his palm when the younger man stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "I'm not going to hurt you again. So long as you keep away from her."
"You're nuts! You know that, don't you sir?" Vic more or less scrambled to his feet, sliding on whatever remained of the coffee table. He refused Harm's help even as his feet slipped out from under him. Thankfully, a large chair was there to catch his fall. "Do you really think your fake marriage is going to change anything? You might have fooled Hollings but-"
Harm snorted. "It's not fake." He held up his hand and wiggled his ring finger. "We were married on Friday. That does change something. The Colonel will no longer prosecute. Instead she will pick, along with the General, a suitable candidate."
No. No. No! This really was a terrible day! "You can't make that choice."
"He can't, but I can. Both Creswell and Admirals Hollings and Morris agree that my involvement would be in poor taste. 'Marine wife prosecutes Navy husband' is not exactly the national news they want to see."
"You bitch."
It wasn't Harm's control that shattered that moment; it was Mac's. She was faster, determined and her fist packed more of a punch than Vukovic could have imagined. Then there was her ring, the sharp cut of diamond that scratched his cheek when her fist retreated.
He fell again back to the broken table he laid across earlier. Curling into the fetal position was becoming too natural for him these days. When he expected the jet jock asshole to finish him, it was said asshole that plucked him off the ground like a rag doll.
Harm fixed Vic's uniform, dusted it off and even straightened the meager ribbons on his chest. "Just so we're clear, I don't have to fight the Colonel's battles. She's a Marine but, if you ever talk to her again with anything but respect due her rank and position, I won't care what prison the Navy sends me to."
Mac motioned to the open door with a tilt of her head. Under the doorframe stood Petty Officer Marion who had seen the entire incident since the door remained wide open. "I saw that Commander. I saw all of it."
"Then you know I was assaulted, again."
The Petty Officer glanced at Harm and Mac and then back to Vukovic. "No sir, you provoked the Captain and the Colonel was acting in self defense after you lunged at her. Ma'am I have security forces on standby if needed."
Vic glared at the yeoman and it was evident that his allies were dwindling by the second. Harm was well liked and it seemed Mac had fallen into everyone's good graces as well. "You're insane…all of you!"
He pushed past Marion and hurried out of the building like a dog with its tail between its legs. Vic rushed to his waiting Porsche, the cool little sports car a gift from a godmother who had pushed for his promotion.
Speeding across town was not wise and adding a speeding ticket was the cherry on top of an already shitty day. Through the visor mirror Vic stared at his reflection, especially his left eye that was showing a growing red mark from Mac's punch.
His cheek stung and upon further inspection he saw the thin cut from Mac's ring. "Fucking bitch." A handkerchief was produced from his pocket that he uses to dab across his aching skin. With a hiss, he staunched the bleeding wondering if the mark was permanent.
"Fucking bitch." He yelled with force and after slamming his fist into the steering wheel, Vic took a few breaths and composed himself. Before him was a large estate with the second largest private garden in London besides Buckingham Palace.
Few persons were allowed at Winfield House, the official residence of the United States Ambassador to the United Kingdom. Vukovic was one of those few although his visits were short and infrequent.
Victor Kirsh, the ambassador's chief of staff stood at the main entrance with a look that could be classified as a scowl. The man was a tall, lanky African American that Vic dubbed 'Pointdexter' due to his nerdy appearance Vukovic knew Kirsh despised him but loyalty to his boss meant tolerating his presence. "You're supposed to call ahead, not show up whenever you want, Gregory."
He cringed at the use of his legal name. Vic could count with one hand how many people were allowed to say it. One such person lived within Winfield House and the last had been his ex-fiancé, a woman who wised up and humiliated him as he stood at the altar. He shook that memory from his mind and plastered a fake smile for his godmother's chief of staff. "I know she's in."
"She's busy… I believe trying to clean up one of your messes again." Victor smiled back, his point made by the way Vukovic's face fell. "One day she'll see you for what you are."
"And what is that?"
"A sick, misogynistic pig."
Vic shrugged. "Still upset that I slept with your girl? It's been months and she was terrible. Get over it."
"One day." Victor warned with a tone full of hatred and hostility. He dreamed of ramming his fist into Vukovic and stomping on his head until there was nothing left. "But it looks like someone beat me to the punch - pun intended."
He pushed past Victor while covering his bruising eye with his hand. "I'll let myself in, thanks buddy."
The office was on the ground floor, past reception rooms, dining rooms and all of the other ridiculously ornate corridors covered in fine arts. The home was something of a museum with all of the pomp and circumstance that Vukovic abhorred. He hated politics and the posturing that came with it - the dog and pony show.
The cute new secretary, aware of Vic's presence, ushered him in without questions. Sitting at a large wooden desk detailed with gold leaf filigri was Adele Delong, a former congresswoman and Vic's godmother.
