The phone signal rang at half past six, and Smith himself delivered dinner, carrying the tray inside when Avery opened the door. She noticed that although he still limped, Smith had managed to get a shoe on his injured foot and walk without the cane he’d used the day before.
“Now this is more like it.” Rip declared when he lifted the cover to reveal a thick slice of prime rib, an oversized baked potato and some steamed veggies.
“I’ve eaten already, so don’t let me stop you,” Smith said, sitting at an angle on the couch so he could rest his foot over the arm.
Avery took the meal Rip passed her and backed up to sit on her bed and balance the plate on the nightstand.
Smith looked from her to Rip, who sat across the room using the vanity top for his table. “Guess I’m not interrupting anything.”
“I wish,” Rip muttered, chewing a big bite of meat. “No horseradish?”
“Be grateful the stuff is warm,” the other man advised. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out two dinner rolls. He tossed one to Avery and the other to Rip. “And no extra butter either.”
“No tip for you,” Rip retorted.
“Then maybe I’ll give Miss Knox both desserts.”
“You and what army?”
To Avery’s surprise, Smith didn’t utter a comeback. He waited until they’d eaten most of their meal before he spoke again.
“So here’s the plan when we arrive in Martinique tomorrow.” His serious tone made Avery pause in mid-bite. “We have to assume that the main gangway will be watched, so we’ll have to exit with the crew. Nadeesh will bring you some work overalls when he delivers your breakfast later tonight.”
His plan made sense to Avery, but her bite of roll suddenly went dry and tasteless at the thought of Rip being shot at again. She couldn’t stop coughing until Rip handed her a bottle of water from the fridge.
Smith gave her a censorious look before turning his attention back to Rip. “Meet me at the freight elevator at the end of the hall at 0700.”
“What about me?” Avery blurted, then twisted her napkin nervously when both men stared at her.
“I’d appreciate if you’d stay in this cabin until at least 0800,” Smith said in his same all business voice. “Once Pollendene and I are safely off the ship and on our way to Benezet, you should be able to resume your regular activities.”
“But I thought the morning ferry didn’t leave until 9:30,” Rip protested.
Avery knew he meant the twice daily ferry service between Martinique and the smaller outlying islands, which included Benezet. Apparently he and Smith had discussed this before.
The agent’s voice sounded tight with restraint. “We’re no longer taking the ferry.”
“Still, maybe Avery needs to stay put until 9:30,” Rip insisted. “Better yet, until after the last ferry leaves at 1:30. Just to be sure.”
“I leave that to your discretion, Miss Knox.” Smith’s tone dripped condescension. “Since I obviously can’t force you to do anything.”
She fought the urge to give him a tart answer. But the truth was, she suddenly felt swamped with worry for Rip’s safety and couldn’t think of a thing to say. Sopping up the last bit of au jus, she popped the final piece of meat into her mouth, chewed and swallowed, even though she didn’t taste a thing.
“I’ll leave the dessert for the two of you to sort out.” Smith rose to his feet and removed the cover on the remaining plate to reveal two slices of chocolate cheesecake. “0700 sharp,” he reminded Rip. Then he limped to the door and was gone.
Rip finished off his meal and scooted his piece of cheesecake into his plate before he handed her the remaining slice. “Please, Avery, for once do what I ask and stay in this room until 1:30.”
Glaring at him, she took the plate. “You don’t have to go, you know.”
His broad shoulders sagged as if he’d been carrying a boulder around all day. “Believe me, the thought has crossed my mind at least once an hour all damn day.” His fingers went to the fresh scab on his arm and he scowled. “But I’m not dodging any more bullets. The answers are on Benezet and I intend to find them.”
Arguing with him was pointless, especially when Avery knew she’d do the same if she were in his place. Resignedly, she picked up her fork, but in spite of her love for chocolate and cheesecake, she could only force herself to eat two bites. Of course, Rip had already wolfed his down, so she got up and handed him her plate.
“Here, you can finish mine, too. I’m going to take a shower, if I can find a dry towel.”
His expression didn’t soften. “Do us both a favor and keep those sweatpants on under that ugly night gown tonight. I don’t know how many more cold showers I can stand.”
When she finished up in the bathroom, Rip was watching yet another football program. She had no idea so many existed. Pulling her supplies out of the nightstand drawer, she worked on her fingernails tonight. He didn’t comment about her sweatpants and nightshirt.
Rip’s show ended and he’d just started channel surfing when the phone signal sounded. “I’ll go this time.” He tossed the remote onto her lap and went to the door.
Taking great care not to smudge her nails, she hit the channel changer. After punching several times, she ran across the recorded announcement of Ginger telling guests what to expect when they landed in Martinique. Her roommate’s grating voice and simpering smile left a sour taste in Avery’s mouth. She didn’t doubt for a moment that Ginger was using her absence to thoroughly cement herself into full-blown cruise director status, and Avery was not about to play assistant to her. She gave the remote a vicious click and the screen winked off.
A moment later, Nadeesh arrived, apologetic as always. Tomorrow’s breakfast looked meager, a four-pack of plastic containers of yogurt, two bowls of granola and two banana nut muffins.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rip assured the distressed butler. “You’ve done a great job.”
“Thank you, sir, and please, sir, be very careful tomorrow,” Nadeesh babbled as he backed out the door.
While Rip hung his blue work coveralls in the closet, Avery put the yogurt and muffins in the fridge. Rip was welcome to all of it. She doubted she would feel like eating anything tomorrow.
The classic movie tonight was a John Wayne war epic. Avery gritted her teeth and buried her nose in one of the slick magazines provided by the cruise line that showed lots of high end jewelry and accessories. After an hour with no sounds coming from Rip’s side of the room, she put the book down and saw that he was dozing, chin against his chest.
She got up and gently removed the remote from his hand. He never stirred, but looking at his face in repose made her heart pound and her knees wobble. Crazy thoughts of what might have been whirled through her brain. She shook them away, crawled back into her bed and turned off the lights.
But sleep eluded her. For what felt like endless hours, Avery tossed and turned and imagined she had said yes instead of no ten years ago.
The sound of the shower awakened Avery from a restless sleep. She bolted upright, hit the light and stared at the bedside clock — 6:45. Rip would be gone in fifteen minutes! But that couldn’t be.
She stumbled over to the vanity and saw the empty bowl, two yogurt containers and orange peels. He’d managed to eat without waking her up. She grabbed her brush and smoothed her sleep mussed hair into a ponytail, trying to ignore her bloodshot eyes and the dark circles shadowing the skin beneath them. Not exactly the way she wanted Rip to remember her, but too late to change anything, for the water had stopped running.
A few moments later, Rip came out dressed in his dirty cargo shorts and T-shirt. “Sorry I woke you up,” he said, pulling the coveralls on over his clothes.
“No, I — I wanted to say good-bye.” She watched him sit on the end of his bed and pull on socks and sneakers, while she fought back the urge to beg him not to leave.
He shoved his flip-flops into his duffle bag, zipped it closed, and stood. “This isn’t
good-bye.” Duffle in hand, he moved toward the door, but stopped when he stood next to her. “I know you don’t believe me, but I am coming back, and I intend to take up where we left off at the old fort in San Juan.”
Wanting desperately to believe they could, Avery stood rooted to the carpet, unable to force words out of her mouth. Rip’s fingers brushed across her cheek and traced lightly over her lips as he kissed her on the forehead. She closed her eyes in anticipation.
Instead, he murmured, “Look for me on the dock in Miami in ten days.”
Her eyes flew open just in time to see him closing the door. But she still couldn’t move, couldn’t call out for him to stop. She felt as if someone had carved out her insides and left only a hollow shell. Damn him for doing exactly what she vowed she wouldn’t let him do.
Damn him for making her care.
Chapter 5
Rip and Williams bided their time and tried to mingle with the other crew members who were busy preparing Valiant for her day in port. Within five minutes of their arrival, another smaller cruise ship, Enchanté, pulled directly across from them on the wide dock. Apparently the two ships often made this stop together, for the men called back and forth congenially to each other as they worked.
After about twenty minutes several people began wandering up and down the pier, and Williams gave the signal for the two of them to move out. At the end of the dock, they ducked into the public restroom and shed their coveralls. Rip shoved his into the duffle bag. Since he had so few items of clothes with him, he couldn’t quite throw them away.
He put on his new sunglasses and pulled the baseball cap Williams had supplied low on his forehead. As they crossed and walked down the road that followed the waterfront, Rip figured they looked like typical American tourists.
“Nice shades.” Williams’ sarcastic tone indicated he knew his agency had footed the bill.
The knowledge made Rip smile a little in spite of himself. “Thanks.”
“We need to get to the public dock before the rest of the passengers disembark,” Williams reminded him.
However, he stopped at an ATM long enough to get some local currency used throughout the West Indies, but refused to let Rip use his card in case his account was being monitored. With a sardonic expression, Williams handed him two small bills and a half-dozen coins. “Here, knock yourself out.”
Rip dropped them in his pocket with a silent, scathing look.
By the time they reached the public dock almost half a mile away, morning traffic had picked up with more and more people making their way to work. Rip could see the boxy white ferry-boat sitting at the end of the pier, already taking on passengers even though it wouldn’t leave for more than an hour. True to his word, Williams walked past the kiosk selling ferry tickets and approached some of the local fishermen and private tour operators. Within ten minutes, he’d struck a deal and he and Rip were ushered onto a small boat with a flying bridge and the name Sirene painted on the bow.
Though he tried not to limp, Rip noticed the further they’d walked, the more difficult it was for the agent to disguise his injury. Williams dropped onto the padded bench seat with a sigh, and immediately put his foot up. Rip settled on the bench on the opposite side. Their captain, a man who looked to be in his mid forties climbed up to the bridge and started the engine, while the mate, who looked less than half the captain’s age and was likely his son, untied them from the dock.
With a sputtering cough, the vessel pulled away from the dock and chugged toward the entrance of the harbor. Behind them, Rip caught sight of the gleaming black smoke stacks of Valiant and a wave of longing and loneliness broke over him. The latter caught him completely off-guard since he’d never considered himself lonely before. But only three days with Avery made him realize how much his life in LA had been lacking. The idea of not returning to Southern California didn’t bother him much at all.
“Tough break about the beautiful Miss Knox,” Williams said, as if reading his thoughts. “But you can’t blame her. A woman like her can take her pick of almost any guy, and I’m sure she sees plenty of wealthy ones in the cruise business.”
Resentment made Rip’s fingers tingle with the urge to form a fist. “Avery’s no gold-digger. She’s just scared because of the… circumstances. When I’m done on Benezet, I’ll change her mind.”
The other man rolled his eyes in that mocking way Rip found so annoying. “Good luck with that, Lover Boy. And I hope this thing turns out to be the cake-walk you seem to believe it is. In the meantime, I’m going to get some shut eye before we get there.”
Rising to his feet, Williams took his bag and disappeared into the small cabin. Rip was glad to see the surly agent go. He knew it would be over two hours before they reached Benezet and the less time he had to spend with Dante Williams, the better he would like it.
Rip settled back into the corner and enjoyed the feel of the wind on his face as the boat speeded up. Back at the dock, the captain had spoken English to them, but he and the mate called back and forth to each other in what Rip recognized as a French Creole dialect unique to Martinique, but very similar to what was spoken on Benezet. Much to his surprise, he actually understood a word here and there.
They passed a dozen or more small fishing boats after they left the harbor, but after about half an hour, the boats became few and far between. The Sirene picked up more speed as they headed into open water, and Rip removed his baseball cap to keep it from blowing off. The young mate disappeared into the cabin and came back with a thermos and plastic cups. Rip gladly accepted the hot coffee the boy offered with halting English.
A few minutes later, the teen climbed up to the bridge and the captain came down and helped himself to a cup, offering Rip a refill.
After openly studying Rip for several long moments as he sipped his coffee, the captain finally spoke. “My cousin, his wife came from Benezet. You from there?”
Rip nodded. “I was born there, but left when I was still a child.”
The man drank slowly, his shrewd dark eyes assessing Rip from top-to-toes. “The old general, Pollendene, you look like him.”
“So I’ve been told.” Glad he still wore his sunglasses, Rip tried not to let his surprise show.
“Old Pollendene, he was a hard man, but fair. The new one, he is cruel. Bad things going on since he took over. Lots oâ folks move to Martinique ‘til Benezet gets better.” The captain drained his cup, and once more silently offered to fill Rip’s.
When Rip shook his head, the man gave a toothy grin and took the thermos back inside the cabin. The coffee in Rip’s gut churned. He tried to remember everything he could about his last encounter with his cousin JB, but the memory was hazy. Even though it had only been fifteen months ago, the whole shock of the suddenness of his father’s death had left him almost in a stupor. The best thing to come out of the sad event was that Luc DuBois, who had flown to LA to personally deliver the news, had stayed on and become Rip’s good friend and assistant.
At JB’s suggestion, Rip had flown in for the private family funeral and skipped the state ceremonies. His cousin had given him a small wooden cask with his father’s military ribbons and metals, and offered Rip the opportunity to go through Phillippe’s personal belongings. Considering he’d only seen his father a handful of times in twenty years, Rip politely declined. Now he wondered if that had been a wise decision.
He also wondered about his uncle Jean Jacques, whom Rip hadn’t seen at all. Too grief-stricken to attend, his cousin had explained. Rip had thought it a reasonable excuse at the time, but now he wondered if it had been a bit too convenient. Could JB have harbored a secret agenda all along? Or were other forces at work as Williams and his cronies believed?
None of the scenarios flitting through Rip’s brain fit into the “cake-walk” category. But they certainly did an effective job of taking his mind off Avery. He grew so engrossed in his thoughts that he wasn’t aware of the captain coming back out and resuming his place on the fly
ing bridge. In fact, he didn’t even notice the passage of time until the young mate came over, grasped his shoulder, and pointed to a dark smudge on the horizon.
“Benezet,” the boy explained with a grin.
Rip nodded and silently watched the shape grow larger and greener. Equal parts of dread, anticipation, and something else he couldn’t name rose up inside him as they drew inexorably closer to the island. When they started to see other vessels, the captain slowed their speed and Rip decided to use the head and wake up Williams.
On the far side of the cabin, his churlish companion lay stretched across the built-in seat, snoring. He jerked awake, sputtering when Rip called his name. But one look out the cabin window brought him to full awareness.
“How much longer before we land?” he demanded.
“How should I know?” Rip retorted, then immediately regretted his antagonism. “But I’d guess not more than ten or fifteen minutes.”
Williams seemed not to notice as he pulled out his phone. Obviously he couldn’t get a signal, for he put it back in his pocket a moment later. “Here’s hoping Davis got through to my contact so that he knows we aren’t on the ferry. I want up-to-the-minute intel before we go knocking on your Uncle Jean Jacques’ door.”
Sounded logical to Rip, which was a bit sobering since he usually wanted to argue with everything Williams said. After he used the head, Rip changed clothes. His cargo shorts badly needed washing, and he didn’t think sweats or gym shorts were appropriate for meeting with Benezet’s head of state, even if he was a relative. His dress slacks and white shirt were a little less than fresh, but won by default.
As he joined Williams out on the deck, the agent looked him up and down then muttered, “Keep that hat on.”
Given their captain’s earlier remark, Rip couldn’t disagree.
Rather than sit back, he stood on one side and watched as they approached the harbor of Saturnina, Benezet’s largest city and capitol. At the mouth of the bay, a container ship sat at anchor, unable to get closer due to shallow water. A flotilla of tugs and barges crowded around and took the boxy metal containers as they were lowered, ferrying them to shore. The process made for brisk traffic, and their captain had to slow Sirene to a crawl and maneuver carefully to reach the docks.
His Reluctant Bodyguard Page 6