His Reluctant Bodyguard (10 page)

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 passenger 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."

Goose-bumps 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.

Hell! He hadn't exactly expected his uncle or cousin to roll out the welcome mat. But he hadn't anticipated having the shit beat out of him and being thrown into a cell either -- though cell was a bit too generous a description for this hot, dusty concrete block hole. The closet sized space had no furnishing or accoutrements of any kind save for a single dim light bulb sticking out of a fixture on the wall beside the door.

Painfully, Rip shifted from his knees to a standing position. He was pretty sure the door was bolted from the outside, but it did have a handle on this side. If he could stretch the plastic restraints on his wrists, he might be able to get them off. With stiff, pain-slowed movements, he turned and leaned his back against the door, shifting so that he could feel the door handle with his numb hands. Then, he hooked the lever through the plastic with careful deliberation and pulled.