Chapter 37

"Did you forget something?" Harm was seated on a stool, nursing a fresh cup of coffee when he heard a knock on the door. Mac, he assumed. She didn't have a key.

He hopped off the seat and made a beeline for the door that was being pounded on now. The knocking was harder, frantic and he laughed at the thought of finding his squared away Marine rushing through the door. "Power down, Colonel."

It wasn't Mac on the opposite side but a man nearly as tall as him. Burly with slicked back graying hair and a handlebar mustache the gentleman appeared to be a cross between a biker and a gangster.

"Can I help you?" Harm's smile disappeared immediately and he couldn't ignore the way the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

"You Rabb?"

"Who's asking?" He asked wearily and that was when a fist adorned with brass knuckles flew at him.

The initial hit that was meant to strike his face was blocked by an arm snapping up in a defensive posture. "Ooof." And then came a second punch, one to his gut that landed with such force, it doubled him over.

Luck prevented his attacker from landing a third hit and once the forth came, Harm dropped to his knees and wound up with a punch of his own to the man's groin. It was a blow that incapacitated and sent his attacker down to his knees while holding his crotch. "You fucking son of a bitch!"

"You try to rob me and I'm the son of a bitch?" Harm wound up and struck, his fist connecting squarely into the man's jaw. It may have knocked out someone else but the blow was returned in the most painful way.

He barely had time to move. The brass knuckle made contact with his ribs which knocked the wind out of him so badly Harm collapsed. He couldn't breathe and he couldn't move which made it easy to be dragged across the apartment.

That's when he saw a knife. The shiny metal practically glowed from the light out of the large kitchen windows. It made his fight or flight response kick into overdrive and Harm chose both. Kitchen. Because it was the only room with items that could be used as a weapon.

Harm managed to kick free and roll away when the tip of the knife came swooping down. He used his opposite foot to kick the assassin, slamming the heel into the knee with enough force to cause pain and giving himself a little time to run into the kitchen and take a chef's knife that was sheathed in its block.

"Who are you?" He asked while holding the knife in a defensive posture.

"Carl." The burly man said in a deep, Irish accent. "He didn't tell me you'd fight back." Carl held his knife a similar way as he raised his opposite fist, which he rolled to make the brass knuckles more effective.

"He who?"

"You know who. And this wouldn't have happened if you just stayed away from his woman."

"His woman? No…No." Harm felt like a torpedo had slammed mercilessly into him. His legs threatened to give out and he was only kept upright by gripping one of the stools around the island. Immediately, he took a quick glance at his phone, the one that had rung just a few minutes earlier. He swore he'd heard Mac's voice on the other side and ignored an odd tingling sensation when the call simply disconnected. "Where is she?"

"Nah, man. You don't get to ask questions." With that, the attacker lunged, his big body moving faster than a man his size should. The edge of his knife hit Harm's forearm leaving a gash that was replicated with a second strike that caught his bicep.

"Argh!"

"You like that, pretty boy? Gonna cut you up real good."

"Fuck you!" Harm swung his own knife in sweeping movements, one of which hit its target that couldn't back away fast enough. He sliced Carl's chest, the blade cutting through the thick black t-shirt to the skin beneath. There came another attempt to disarm, many more sweeps of knives hitting furniture, walls, none of which met with skin. "Where the hell is she?!"

"You're a scrapper, pretty boy, I'll give you that. But, I'm tired of games." Carl took a breath and threw himself at Harm's waist, a movement which sent both men to the ground.

A knife slid across the floor - Harm's who'd lost his grip and was now trying to avoid being hurt furthur. Carl was on top of him trying to swing his blade with controlled movements and landed once, a hit that left a deep gash though Harm's shoulder and then wedged the tip into the ground.

Pulling at the weapon was futile and only gave Harm enough of an edge to ignore the searing pain and swing his legs over Carl. He locked the man's head between his thighs and squeezed as hard as possible despite punches to his already injured midsection.

"Can't….breathe." This only made Harm squeeze harder until Carl took his last breath.

Everything hurt…everything. From his head to his ribs and the cuts on his arm and shoulder that bled so badly that Harm left a trail of crimson as he limped into the kitchen and reached for the phone. "Admiral, this is Captain Rabb…I need help…He's taken her…Vukovic has taken my wife."

He'd fall to the floor a minute later.

Don't open your eyes.

Sarah MacKenzie instinctively knew that once her eyes propped open the room would begin to spin like a top. It was a familiar haze, one reminiscent of past mornings where a teenaged Mac awoke to only the finest hang over cheap liquor could provide. But, it was so much worse. Her bones actually ached like she'd been beaten. Her mouth was dry and her skin felt so clammy.

With her eyes closed Mac began to move her limbs, access that nothing had been broken and eventually managed to sit up. Of course, the headache came next, a debilitating kind that felt like her skull had been split in half. She was dizzy, nauseous but still managed to come to her feet although it was on shaky legs.

She still wore her uniform although half of it - jacket, tie and heels - had been removed and were placed at the edge of the bed. As her eyes began to focus, the light slipping through the edges of a curtain was enough to see the bedroom she was placed in. While not the most ornate, it was clear every article in the room reeked of wealth down to the massive Turkish rug at her feet. There was a seating area, one she stumbled to, near the windows with a loveseat, a coffee table and two oversized chairs. "Where am I?" Mac thought as she waited for her eyes to focus on the room she was placed in.

Carefully, she peeled back a curtain and gave herself just a small gap to look through only to be greeted by another dreary day. But even the weather couldn't dampen the beauty of the gardens which stretched out like a lush green carpet away from the house. She knew this place, having been there a few days prior with Harm when Victor Kirsch made an impromptu meeting with Adele DeLong.

"Winfield House?" Christ, that didn't make sense. Why would Vukovic bring her here? She expected some hidden home with a dank basement or even a cabin in the woods. True, security would keep him safe in Winfield House but she doubted Adele DeLong would appreciate an unwanted - kidnapped - guest.

With a heavy sigh, Mac doubled her efforts. Movement became a little easier until she found the bathroom where a splash of cool water helped shake even more of the haze. She thirstily drank her fill from the tap and finally felt whole enough to attempt an escape.

The house was silent, at least from her location and her first choice were the windows. Each was locked, not that it mattered, a drop from the second floor could potentially be painful or deadly given her shaken state. Her second choice was obvious - the bedroom door that she easily picked with a pin from the back of her fruit salad. Having a misspent youth came with some perks and locks had been a specialty until Chris' second arrest when she decided her hobbies could land her in a similar spot.

Surprisingly, there were no guards at the door and none down the hallway. She tried several of the entrances in the upper floor but found that every single one was locked and picking each would diminish whatever precious time she had. Her eyes locked on the stairs, the obvious escape and one she knew would be met with DeLong's security force or even Vukovic himself. She could take the pitiful sailor, have him on his ass even in her current state but, men with guns was a different obstacle.

Holding onto the balustrade, she cautiously descended the steps but only made it halfway when she heard a familiar voice. "Ambassador, ma'am… That woman can't be here! You've let your godson get away with far too much and this…this will destroy you, ma'am." It was Victor Kirsch, Delong's chief of staff.

"Victor, calm down." Adele's voice was raspier than usual and a timbre much higher pitched than normal. "This will be resolved."

"Resolved? How? How do you think this will end? Someone had to have seen Gregory take her and when she doesn't show up for work, SOMEONE will notice!"

Vukovic sat on an oversized chair, his leg bouncing up and down like he's snorted a line of coke. He was wired, the rush of taking Sarah away from Rabb fueled an excitement he'd never felt before. She was free and it wouldn't be long before she forgot that crusty old jet jock and fell into his bed. He'd help her heal, of course because he was none of those things Rabb accused him of. "She's right, you need to calm down."

"You stupid son of a bitch! She has a husband and from what I've seen, he's not the type to just roll over and back down he'll-"

"Had a husband." Vic said quietly. He traded glances between his godmother and he chief of staff and offered a noncommittal shrug. "Sarah, had a husband and she doesn't anymore. Besides, that wedding was a complete sham."

There was silence, one so palpable it made the air thick. For Mac, she believed she misheard Vukovic, she had to because it was highly doubtful the man had the guts to commit a murder. Carefully, she descended a bit farther almost to the very last step. From her vantage point, she could see past a partially open door and found Adele standing with her arms crossed. "Gregory, what did you do?"

"I didn't do a thing. Carl on the other hand-" He was using a saccharine sweet, sing-song voice like something a child might do if being reprimanded.

"Who's Carl, my love?"

Vic sighed dramatically, "Met him in a pub. He uses brass knuckles to rearrange people's faces for a living. But, if you pay a bit more- oh, don't look so shocked. Rabb was a pain in the ass and deserved everything that came to him or did you forget the beating he gave me?"

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know, probably… hopefully. It'll make things a little easier for me and Sarah."

Mac nearly fell. A cold, dizzy washed over her like sinking beneath a massive tide in the freezing ocean. No. He couldn't be dead. No, because she'd done everything Vukovic had asked - against her better judgment - to insure Harm wouldn't be touched. "You had him killed?"

It would have been comical the way that each person in the room blanched and Mac was the ghost that caused such a reaction. Her hair was a mess, her uniform rumbled and she was barefoot which gave the Marine the most awkward appearance.

"Sarah, it'll be okay." Vic stood up immediately, a wrong move to approach a woman who felt like a lion in a cage. He was hit hard. Mac's fist made perfect contact with the side of his nose breaking it yet again. When he doubled over her knee slammed into his midsection and then she kicked him when Vukovic fell down. "Stop! Stop!"

Mac saw red and any pent up anger she'd stored away was released. She kicked him again and again, not stopping until Adele's guards were ordered to stop the Marine. She fought the hands which held her back but her body was too weak to put up much of a fight. "You told me you wouldn't hurt him, you sick son of a bitch!"

"Let her go." Adele ordered the men and once they did, Mac fell to her knees.

It was hard to remain stoic when tears were already sneaking their way down her cheeks. "You didn't have to kill him."

Vic slowly sat up while pinching the bridge of his nose that did nothing to staunch the blood. "You won't love me if he kept hounding after you like a dog in heat."

"Love you? Are you insane? I will never love you. Never!"

"You will. I saw it, Sarah…I saw it back in. Washington, how you looked at me. In San Diego you wanted me…You know you wanted me and then he called!" Vukovic yelled in a manic fashion, his bleeding nose temporarily forgotten as he squatted next to Mac.

"Gregory, get away from her." It was Adele's stern command that stopped him cold and made Vic snap upright as if at attention. "This has been an exhausting start to the morning. What I suggest is that you get cleaned up and head to JAG."

"JAG? But, Aunt Addie-"

DeLong placed a hand on his shoulder where she squeezed as hard as possible. "If you're at JAG you're not with the Colonel. If you're at JAG, everyone will be less suspicious."

"Petty Officer Marion knows-"

"And no one will take the word of enlisted over an officer….Make your day count. Make your words count and offer to help find the Colonel."

He turned to his godmother and spoke in an almost robotic fashion. "I'll make my words count."

"Take Victor's car." She glared at her chief of staff and held out a hand for him to place keys into. "Thank you. Now go."

Vic grabbed the keys from her hand and made a beeline towards the open door stopping only to turn back and look at Mac. "I love you. I hope you know how much."

When he left Adele helped Mac stand. She was cautious, knowing that even a wounded Marine could fight until they took their last breath. Empathy did not come easy for the Ambassador and despite her hatred for Rabb, MacKenzie she always thought could be an ally. This situation was a difficult one to maneuver. "Colonel, I'm sorry you're in this mess. As I've said before, Gregory is-"

"Sick and he needs to be put in jail."

Adele shook her head. "He won't survive in prison. Whatever he's done, I swore to his mother that I'd always protect him."

"At the cost of countless lives he's ruined?"

"I'll get him help. It worked once before." DeLong motioned with her head and two men dressed in black suddenly appeared out of the shadows. "Take her upstairs, make sure the door is locked and keep a guard there at all times."

"What are you going to do with me?" Mac yanked her arm out of one of the men's grip but moving away from the other was impossible.

The Ambassador tapped her chin with her index finger and then smiled. "Keep you here until you agree not to press charges. Gregory isn't a bad boy, just misguided. He thinks he loves you and I'm not sure…Still, I'm deeply sorry for anything that may have happened to the Captain as a result. It won't go unpunished, you'll have my word on that."

"If he comes near me, I'll find a way…I'll kill him." Mac's threat wiped the smile off of DeLong's face who visibly blanched from the Marine's hardened expression. She wouldn't break down - not yet. Although she could feel the edges of her eyes burning, Mac wouldn't cry…she wouldn't cry.

The tears fell anyway.