His Reluctant Bodyguard

by Loucinda McGary

  Far back in his memory, Rip recalled how the arrival of a container ship in Saturnina had been as exciting as Christmas. Apparently things hadn’t changed in twenty years, judging by the shouts, laughter, and excitement filling the air the closer they got to the docks. He could see a dozen flat-bed trucks lined up and waiting to take containers to other parts of the island. Benezet’s roads were mostly unpaved and gasoline was too costly for there to be many cars or trucks on the island. Rip remembered telling his mother he wanted to be a truck driver when he grew up. Either that or a pirate.

  As they passed the rocky headlands on the right, the ruins of the old fort drew his eye. A cell phone tower rose above the crumbling rock walls, just as he’d told Avery back in San Juan. He looked away quickly and tried to banish the memory of her kiss from his mind. Far easier said than done.

  Sirene docked at one of the smaller piers that accommodated local fishing boats. Money exchanged hands between the captain and Williams, and the young mate tied up just long enough to let the two passengers set out onto the suspended wooden walkway. Then the Sirene was off and headed out of the harbor before anyone could question the legality of what they’d just done.

  Williams tried his cell again, but apparently got no answer, for he pulled his hat down low on his forehead and muttered, “Let’s go.”

  When they reached the roadway, the tropical scent Rip had always associated with Benezet mixed with the salt air. He took a deep breath and savored it while Williams searched for a taxi. Except for the limited number of trucks, the chief vehicles in Saturnina were electric golf carts, modified by the clever Benezetians to meet their transportation needs. The carts had just begun replacing the horse and donkey drawn wagons during Rip’s childhood, and from the looks of things, they were a permanent way of life, at least in the capitol city.

  Since most of the city’s population of 30,000 seemed to be gathered at the docks, they had no problem flagging down a bright yellow cart. Williams crawled in next to the driver, relegating Rip to the back with the two bags. The agent handed the driver a scrap of paper with an address and they were off at a break-neck speed of about 20 mph, dodging in and out, horn beeping constantly.

  Rip had to laugh, for it was just the way he remembered Saturnina twenty years ago. Williams looked unamused. Fortunately, within a block or two, the traffic disappeared. The streets looked almost deserted even though it was 10:30 in the morning. They drove through an area mixed with commercial buildings and private residences, not exactly a desirable neighborhood to Rip’s way of thinking. As they approached a small house made of concrete blocks and overhung with vines, Williams asked the driver to turn around and let them off across the street.

  While the man obliged, Williams tried his cell again, but quickly hung up. The agent kept nervously scanning the street in all directions as he paid the cabbie and they got out. He still looked jumpy after the taxi drove away.

  “Looks like nobody is home,” Rip ventured.

  “It’s too damn quiet,” Williams said under his breath. “Let’s go around back.”

  He led the way across the street with Rip on his heels. They skirted around the side of the house, moving slowly due to the tangled vegetation growing everywhere. A small swath of lawn encircled the back steps, but they’d no sooner stepped onto the mown grass than a voice commanded, “Halt!”

  Williams cursed under his breath as four men in jungle fatigues emerged from the undergrowth, automatic rifles trained on them. Looked like the agent’s contact wasn’t the only one expecting them.

  “Hands where I can see them!” barked the same voice, obviously the leader of the other three for his shirt had an insignia sewn on it and he wore a beret.

  Rip and Williams did as they were told.

  “Put your weapons on the ground,” came the next order.

  With deliberate slowness, Williams removed a pistol from the back of his waistband.

  “Everything,” the leader spat, and much to Rip’s surprise, Williams unsheathed a knife strapped to his injured ankle.

  When Rip didn’t move, the soldier nearest him came a step closer, his gun mere inches away. “I don’t have anything.” Rip protested.

  Giving him a scornful look, the leader shouldered his weapon and gave Rip a quick, rough pat-down while the one with the gun kept it aimed at Rip’s head. Likewise, the other two were aimed at Williams. Satisfied that they were unarmed, their captor lashed each of their hands behind their back with plastic restraints and ordered them to return to the road.

  As the six of them rounded the building, a troupe transport rumbled down the street. The driver paused in the middle of the road, and the leader climbed into the cab while the three armed soldiers forced Rip and Williams into the canvas draped back with them. Williams sank awkwardly onto the wooden plank seat that ran the length of the vehicle. Rip sat next to him and two of their guards sat directly across, while the third stationed himself next to the canvas opening in the back.

  “Quite a welcoming committee your uncle and cousin sent for us,” Williams muttered as the truck lumbered along, making several turns.

  Rip didn’t need to see out to know where they were going. Williams was right about his uncle and cousin, they were being taken to the military headquarters where his father had spent most of his life. Rip had never liked the place as a boy, and he had a bad feeling he was going to like it a whole lot less very soon.

  ***

  Avery had remained in the room she’d shared with Rip until exactly 9:31 AM. She was sure those had been the longest two and a half hours of her life. She stayed in the shower for as long as she could stand it, dried her hair until every strand had no hint of moisture. But the room reeked of Rip, from the clump of shaving cream in the bathroom sink to the scent of him on the bed linens. When she found the pair of Oakley sunglasses protruding from the pocket of her shirt in the closet, she almost lost it and cried.

  Unable to eat anything, she paced around and around the room until the appointed time, then grabbed her bag and hurried to the elevator. Thankfully, the room she shared with Ginger was empty, but Avery couldn’t linger there either. She had to find some way to occupy her mind, and the best way she knew of was to work, so she changed her shoes and headed for the gangway.

  To say Ginger was surprised to see her was an understatement.

  “Avery? What the —” Eyes bulging, Ginger dragged Avery aside and hissed, “Where are Mr. Smith and Mr. Brown?”

  “Gone,” Avery answered shortly, glaring at the vexing woman.

  Ginger’s mouth flew open, while a look of utter incredulity scrunched her brow. “And you didn’t go with them? What is wrong with you?”

  The fact that Avery had asked herself the same question about a hundred times didn’t make it any more palatable. “What was I supposed to do? I can’t just walk away from my job.”

  “Why the heck not?” Ginger insisted. “If someone like Mr. Brown asked me, I’d go in a hot second. And I know he asked you. The guy is crazy about you. Honestly, Avery, do you really think you can do better than him? He’s gorgeous, built, and Mr. Smith told me his family runs the whole island of Benezet.”

  “Listen, Ginger, I —” Indignation flooded Avery’s system, along with a big dose of confusion. “It’s more complicated than you know.”

  “Seems to me that’s your problem, Avery,” her roommate said with a haughty sniff. “You always complicate things. You think too much.”

  Avery took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you very much for your input.” She took the sheaf of maps from Ginger’s hand. “If you’ll please excuse me.”

  “Don’t be mad. I just hate to see someone pushing away happiness with both hands.”

  “I’m not mad.” Avery gave the bothersome red-head one of her most imperious glares. “I’m busy. Now I’m sure you can find something to do for the next couple of hours.”

  Looking properly chastised, Ginger bit her lower lip and mused, “Well, a pa
ssenger showed me some cute ruffled blouses, and I’d love to have one, too. She told me she got them at the flea market at the end of the pier… “

  “Go for it,” Avery urged. “Knock yourself out.”

  With her nemesis gone, Avery was able to lose herself in busy work, shuffling papers and answering questions. She pretended she was playing a part, the ultimate cruise director, and she focused on that instead of her regrets about Rip. The strategy even worked for awhile.

  Her growling stomach told her to take an early lunch break, but she ignored it. She knew that sitting alone and eating would allow her to think, something she already did way too much of, at least according to Ginger. When the stream of departing and arriving passengers slowed, she commandeered a bucket of cleaning supplies and polished the glass and metal fixtures on the doors and counters like the ultimate cruise director.

  She was buffing a brass door handle when she heard an unmistakable voice. “Woo hoo! Avery!”

  Ginger rushed up the gangway, hugging an oversized plastic shopping bag to her chest. She flashed her I.D. and tossed the bag onto the x-ray machine, barely pausing long enough for it to emerge from the other side before she snatched it up. Then she hastily grabbed Avery by the arm, and yanked her into the nearby ladies’ room.

  After doing a quick survey to be sure they were alone, Ginger flipped the main lock on the door and leaned against it. “Mr. Brown is in terrible danger!”

  Avery set her spray bottle and rag on the counter next to the sink. “What?”

  “I just met a man at the flea market. When he saw my uniform, he told me he needed to find a passenger and he described Mr. Brown. He said he had to find him. It was a matter of life and death.” She paused theatrically. “For both him and this man!”

  Hands on hips, Avery gave a huge eye roll. “Have you lost your mind? This guy could be anyone.”

  “No, I’m sure he was telling the truth,” Ginger insisted and continued to babble. “I could just tell. He said his name was Luc, and he was a very good friend… “

  Avery’s mind quickly grasped a familiar tidbit. “Wait, his name is Luc? Did he call Mr. Brown another name?”

  Ginger nodded eagerly. “A funny name like Ric Polly something? That’s who Mr. Brown really is, isn’t he?” She clapped her hands like a trained seal, obviously seeing the truth in Avery’s expression. “I told him I knew someone who might know where his friend was. But I didn’t tell him anything else.”

  Thank heaven for small favors! But what if this really was the Luc DuBois Rip had talked about? Her voice of logic, which she was damn sick of listening to, crashed and burned.

  “Just go talk to him, Avery!” Ginger’s tone turned into a whiny coax, her expression over-eager. “I’ll go with you in case you need help.”

  Holy moly, that’s all she needed. “No! You stay here.” She grabbed the bag from Ginger’s grasp, and pulled out the ruffled, white eyelet blouse. “I’ll wear this instead of my uniform.” She unbuttoned her blue polo shirt with her nametag and ACL insignia and pulled it over her head, then she put on the blouse. It looked rather at odds with her navy blue slacks, but Avery had no time to waste. “What does this Luc look like?”

  “Actually, a lot like Mr. Brown,” her roommate mused, green eyes narrowing in concentration. “He has that same gorgeous complexion, shaved head, fantastic cheek bones. But he’s shorter and a lot smaller than Mr. Brown. Oh, and he’s wearing jeans and a black T-shirt.”

  “Got it!” Avery shoved her shirt into the plastic bag, put on the Oakley sunglasses she’d been carrying in her pocket, and dashed out the bathroom door.

  She was halfway down the long concrete pier before her logical brain caught up with her impulsive body. Exactly what would she do if this man turned out not to be Rip’s friend, Luc DuBois? For that matter, what would she do even if he was? Heart hammering loud in her ears, she stumbled but kept moving forward, though a bit more slowly. More dignified, she hoped. Not some loony woman rushing heedlessly toward some man.

  Squaring her shoulders, Avery took a deep breath and tamped down her swirling thoughts. Forcing herself into an outward calm, she strolled through the gates of the welcome center and up the cement stairs to the orderly arranged booths of the flea market. The place seemed the polar opposite of the rag-tag group of sellers in San Juan, which helped keep her composure.

  She easily picked out the man, jeans, black T-shirt, and shaved head, just as Ginger had described, and he did resemble Rip a little. He stood right at the end of the first aisle, his unwavering gaze fastened on Valiant.

  Avery pretended to look at merchandise and as she walked past him questioned, “Luc DuBois?”

  He snapped his sharp-eyed stare to her face. “You’re Ginger’s friend?”

  “Co-worker,” Avery corrected, refusing to claim actual friendship. She flashed her ship ID. “Avery Knox.”

  The man’s brow furrowed as if trying to remember something. Suddenly, his dark eyes went wide with recognition. “You went to the University of Miami with Rip, didn’t you?”

  Taken aback, Avery nodded. This guy really must be Luc DuBois. The knowledge surprised her, but not as much as the fact that Rip must have talked about her, thought about her, even after all those years.

  DuBois inclined his head toward an empty bench a few yards away. She followed his lead and sat down.

  “Please tell me Rip is still onboard the ship.” The urgency in his tone made Avery’s nerve endings flash onto high alert, but she wasn’t going to tell him anything else until she had a few answers.

  “How did you get here, Mr. DuBois? Weren’t you suppose to be in LA?”

  The man’s eyes shifted suspiciously. “I left to come back to Benezet.” He cleared his throat. “I’m trying to save Rip’s life. He’s walking into a trap.”

  Goosebumps rose along both Avery’s arms, and mistrust prickled across the back of her neck. “From what I heard, you did quite a neat job of avoiding the agents sent to meet you in LA. Maybe you’re the one who wants to harm Rip.”

  “Are you working with the spooks too?” DuBois demanded, getting to his feet. “I don’t have time to play games, Miss Knox.”

  Two could play at this game of intimidation. Avery stood too, very close, and equally as tall. “Neither do I, Mr. DuBois. And I see no reason to trust you.”

  “I already know he wasn’t on the ferry this morning, and I need to stop him from getting on the one this afternoon. People are waiting to arrest him as soon as he sets foot on Benezet.”

  “And how did these people find out Rip would be coming from Martinique? Unless you told them?”

  He paced away a few steps then spun on his heel and paced back, his movements stiff with apparent indecision. “The American government has its own agenda, surely you see that. They don’t really care what happens to Rip, only that he serves their purposes.”

  She crossed her arms and gave him her most imperious glare. “I can see that you have an agenda, Mr. DuBois. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  Suddenly, he seemed to deflate right in front of her. Concealing her amazement, Avery watched him sink back down on the bench and drop his head into his hands. Finally, he spoke in a subdued voice. “Please understand, I love my country, Miss Knox. I want what is best for Benezet. The Pollendenes, Jean Jacque and JB, sent me to Rip to see if he was any kind of threat to them.”

  “Of course he’s not!” She interrupted. “Rip’s been an American for twenty years. He has no interest in playing politics, on Benezet or anywhere else.”

  DuBois raised his head, his expression contrite. “I know that. He is a good man, and I don’t want his blood on my hands. Please help me save him.”

  If the man was acting, he deserved an Oscar. Avery could feel in her bone marrow that DuBois was telling the truth and Rip’s life hung in the balance. She pressed her hand against her throbbing temple and took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse.

  “Rip and the agent traveling with him left
the ship as soon as we docked.” She tried to moisten her dry lips, but her mouth felt full of cotton. “But they didn’t take the ferry. They must have hired a boat.”

  “Merde!” DuBois swore, jumping back to his feet. “I hope I’m not too late.” He grabbed her hand and pumped it twice. “Thank you, Miss Knox.”

  Then he spun on his heel, but Avery grabbed his arm.

  “I’m going with you!”

  Chapter 6

  Rip pressed his ear against the crack between the heavy wooden door and its frame, in a vain attempt to hear anything that might be happening in the corridor.

  Nothing.

  The temperature in the tiny, airless room seemed to grow warmer by the minute, and the sweat on his face made his various cuts and contusions sting. But since his hands were still lashed behind his back, he couldn’t wipe it away. At least he believed his hands were still there. He’d lost all feeling in them by the time he’d regained consciousness.

  Three of the four guys who had captured him and Williams had worked him over pretty damn thoroughly. His right eye was completely swollen shut, his lip and cheek were busted, and his ribs ached from the pounding they’d administered. He’d finally passed out on the dirty cement floor and awakened sometime later, hurting in places he hadn’t realized he possessed.

  He had a bad feeling Williams might have fared even worse, since they knew he was CIA. Their captors had separated him and Williams as soon as they arrived at the compound, but considering how isolated this compound was, Rip had a feeling they were being held in the same general area. How much time had passed, he couldn’t be sure. However, given the rising temperature in the room, he figured it must be close to the middle of the day. How much longer they might keep him here, he shuddered to think.