Naval
Air Station -
Joint Reserve Base Brig
New Orleans, Louisiana
1510 ZULU
"What the hell do you mean they can’t find him?" Mac got right in the face of the young Marine guard on duty.
He gulped once before answering. "I’m sorry, Ma’am. Major Pierce is just not there. We’ve tried his quarters and there’s no answer there or on his cell," the guard stood at rigid attention.
"That is unacceptable, Sergeant," Mac began only to be cut off by Harm’s hand on her arm. He didn’t say anything, but gave Mac that ‘power down’ look that immediately set her to seething.
Harm knew he’d hear about it later, but for the sake of the poor Sergeant here, he knew he had to do something. Hopefully he’d be able to coax her out of her foul mood, one he shared at being interrupted from their...activities from the night before. "Have you left messages...Sgt. Thomas?" Harm asked, squinting at the man’s name tag.
"Yes, Sir," Thomas answered firmly. "He has the day off, but it is unusual that he would not answer his cell."
"What do you mean he has the day off? He never said anything about that to us. " Mac stated, a gnawing suspicion in her gut.
"He secured the day off last night, Ma’am, before he left."
"And what time was this?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"He left the building at 1930 hours, Ma’am."
Her muttered curse prompted Harm to step in again. "Thank you, Sergeant. If you hear from him, please have him contact us, ASAP."
The guard snapped to attention. "Yes, Sir."
After the guard had walked through the door, leaving them alone, Mac rounded on him. "You know I’m getting really tired of you "handling me". This guy has skipped out on us, and you’re wasting time trying to hold me back. Well let me tell you something, Rabb, I don’t need you to keep me in check. I’m perfectly capable of talking to enlisted Marines." Her voice kept rising the more worked up she got, and the more worked up she got, the more Harm wanted to grab her and kiss her breathless.
Luckily he found a shred of common sense and held back the urge. She might have responded to him last night, but he had a pretty good idea that she wouldn’t take well to his advances at the moment.
"I know you can, Mac," he tried to sooth. "But you about bit that poor kid’s head off just for doing what you asked him to do."
"I asked him to find that lying son of a bitch Pierce is what I asked him to do, and he didn’t." She was livid.
"Technically he never lied to us, Mac." Harm wanted to bite his own tongue off when that statement came out of his mouth.
"Excuse me? He sat there and flat out led us to believe he knew nothing more about those video tapes, OR Krennick’s peculiar tastes. And he tried to mislead us by saying all of the tapes were just like the others. He was trying to get us not to watch them."
"Mac, he was hidden on the tape. Honestly, he probably didn’t even know he was on there," he reasoned.
"I can’t believe it. You’re defending him?!" she shouted.
"No, you know I’m not. I’m just saying we need to calm down and figure out exactly where we’re going to go with this once we DO get a hold of him." He placed a hand on her forearm.
"You’re doing it again," she spoke through gritted teeth, her eyes darting down to his hand on her arm.
She was still angry, he could tell, but some of the fight had seemed to go out of her at his touch. Pushing her a little further he leaned closer. "You know, Mac, you really are beautiful when you’re angry." When all she did was roll her eyes in disgust, and not take his arm off at the elbow, he felt safe to continue. "What do you say after we put some work in here, we take tonight...maybe, go out on the town and then pick up where we left off last night?" his breath whispered across the skin, right below her ear.
Shivering, and not from the air conditioning in the small room, all Mac could manage was a slight nod. Satisfied with his progress Harm backed away, never taking his eyes off of her. "Well then, let’s get to work."
And work they did. Questioning over a dozen co-workers of both Pierce and Miles, they kept getting the same story over and over; there was no love loss between the two men...and both had a thing for their commanding officer that was more than obvious.
While many described Logan Miles as a little odd, no one could come up with any concrete evidence to suggest he was capable of committing a crime of this magnitude. On the other hand, plenty had suggested that Pierce’s temper and disposition made him a more likely suspect.
Telling which one was guilty of murder was going to be a real challenge. Both had a list of motives as long as her arm, and by the end of the day Mac wanted to beat her head against the table in front of her. Instead she slammed the folder shut and sat back in her chair. "Well, I guess there isn’t anything more we can do until we catch up with Pierce. We’re not set to interview Miles’ mother until tomorrow."
"Yeah, I’d say we’ve done all we can for today," Harm agreed.
All business she began gathering her things. "Guess we should get out of here then. I have a date tonight," she said, not looking at him.
He smiled at her back as she walked toward the door. "What a coincidence, so do I."
Sultry jazz music swirled all around them as they swayed on the dance floor, their bodies so close not even the evening breeze could pass between them. Their hips moved in unison, his hand pressed to the small of her back, her arms around his neck.
Dinner had been perfect. The small talk had been limited. There was no mention of work, their case, but above all no mention of Webb or their disastrous trip to Paraguay. For once in their relationship they had both known when to speak and when to stay silent. The results, their current, intimate position on the small dance floor.
To the outside world they looked like two people that had been together that way forever. To the couple on the floor it had been a moment too long in coming, this fire, this passion breaking through and exploding to the surface.
The silk slip dress she was wearing clung like a second skin, hugging the lush curves of her body. His own body responded to hers, straining to get closer, needing to claim what, on the most basic of levels, he already knew was his.
Lightning flashed, then the distant rumble of thunder could be heard through the open french doors leading out onto the veranda. Her eyes met his and a sultry smile played about the corners of her full, glossy lips at the heat she saw in those beautiful blue eyes.
Without a word he moved them toward the entrance, stopping only long enough to grab their things and leave money on the table. By the time they reached the car they were soaked through by the cold winter rain that had started to fall, but neither noticed, still hot from the passion building between them.
When they were both in the car she reached for him, and he for her, unable to hold back any longer. Their lips met almost ferociously, their hands grasping and pulling at wet clothing with abandon.
Finally they broke apart grasping for breath, willing themselves to slow down. When their lips met again, it was slower, more sensuous. They teased and tortured, teeth nibbling bottom lips, tongues barely touching.
Her lips skimmed along his damp jaw, the fingernail of the index finger of her right hand trailing a path down the open vee of his shirt collar. "Harmon Rabb, you know, you look really good...wet."
Pulling back just enough to look her in the eye, Harm ran the palm of his hand up the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, dragging her skirt up and stopping only when he felt damp silk under his fingertips. Mac sucked in a shaky breath.
"So do you, Mac...so do you..."