His Reluctant Bodyguard (12 page)

Rip muttered something about her wanting to get him naked as he undid the buttons, though with difficulty since his wrists and hands were still swollen. Avery busied herself with ripping off a wad of gauze and soaking it with water from her bottle.

Even in the dim light, the bruises on his ribs stood out in nasty black and purple splotches. The area near what she judged to be his right kidney looked especially ugly. She chewed her bottom lip and fought the urge to shudder. She shot a quick glance at the girl, but she stood silently, her somber expression firmly unchanging.

When Avery moved to clean the dirt off his wounds, Rip flinched away in protest. "Let me do it myself."

She relinquished the wet cotton, but tore another smaller strip and soaked it in alcohol to disinfect his cuts, a process he liked even less.

"I am not letting you get an infection," she informed him in a stern tone. "So just hold still and let me finish."

Yvette moved then, taking the dirty shirt and bloody gauze from Rip and handing him a neatly folded pair of canvas shorts and a light cotton shirt. "You wear these so nobody knows you."

She also gave him a floppy straw hat that Avery had seen men all over the islands wear. Rip scowled a little but placed it on his head all the same. The girl paid no heed, dropped the dirty items into her empty basket, and turned to go. "
Me
or Luc be back at sundown."

The key rattled in the lock, and they were alone again in the hot, smelly little shack.

With a rush of relief, Avery noticed that the food and water had revived Rip considerably. However, she wasn’t sure what else she could do about his injuries. Finally, she wound several layers of gauze around his torso, pulling the material as tightly as she could and knotting it under his left arm.

He surveyed her handiwork with a hint of a smile. "Not exactly how I intended for us to play doctor."

"Me neither," she said with a roll of her eyes. She offered her hand to help him to his feet, adding, "Put on your new clothes and I’ll finish treating you."

Avery turned her back and studied the wall while she listened to
Rip
shuffling around behind her. She had a bad feeling his legs were as banged up as his body had been.
At least he’s able to walk
, she reminded herself and tried not to think about Smith or Williams or whatever his name was, lying helpless with a broken leg.

"Okay," Rip muttered, interrupting her thoughts. "I feel like I should sing the banana boat song."

Whirling, she saw what he meant. The baggy shorts had a drawstring waist and two oversized pockets. The shirt fabric wasn’t much thicker than the gauze bandage and hung loose from Rip’s shoulders, with four patch pockets in the style worn by Caribbean fruit pickers. She looked at her own tiered skirt and frilly blouse,
then
reached up to touch the material tied around her head. In the dark, they could easily pass for a traditional island couple.

"We are quite a pair," she said.

Tearing off another hunk of gauze and soaking it with alcohol, Avery motioned for him to sit back down. Except for scraped shins and more ugly bruises on his bad knee, Rip’s legs had fared better than most of the rest of him.

"Have I thanked you for saving my life?" he asked.

Squatting, she dabbed at his shins. "You're not saved yet."

The alcohol made him wince again. "Not from lack of trying on your part." His expression suddenly went serious. "What will happen with your job?"

Avery didn't answer until she'd almost finished with his second shin, then she gave what she hoped looked like a casual shrug. "Best case scenario, I'll get fired. Worst case...
 
I'd rather not think about that one."

Deep lines bracketed Rip's mouth. "If anything happens to you --"

"Nothing else is going to happen to either of us," she interrupted. "Luc is a very resourceful guy, and he seems to have lots of friends. In fact, I think he knows a whole network of people on
Benezet
with their own political agenda. I wonder if the CIA knows about them."

He shook his head. "I don't think they have a clue. I sure don't. Luc worked for me for over a year, and yet, I didn't really know him at all."

"As long as he gets us out of here, I don't care." She finished, and shoved the almost empty alcohol container and the remainder of the gauze into her shoulder bag. "Afraid that's all I can do for you at the moment."

She expected him to make a saucy comeback, but he didn't.

His countenance remained grim but his
unswollen
eye held a stubborn determination. "When we get out of here, I'll make this up to you, Avery. I swear I will."

Averting her gaze, she murmured, "Just get some rest. I'm going to."

After she once again seated herself on the dirt floor, Avery leaned her aching head against the rough wooden wall. Either the smell was lessening, or she was actually getting used to it. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax.

The rattling of the lock made her eyes fly open. Somehow, she'd managed to fall asleep, for the inside of the shack was darker. What little light came in through the holes between the planks seemed slanted and diffused. Her second surprise came when she realized that Rip stood next to the door, bait bucket in his hands, poised to clobber whoever crossed the threshold.

The door opened a crack and a familiar voice called softly, "Rip? Avery?"

Rising to her feet, Avery released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, and Rip lowered the bucket and stepped back.

Luc
DuBois
entered, his nose wrinkling. "Sorry to leave you so long in this stinking place."

"You alone?"
Rip asked, craning his neck to look outside.

"Afraid so," Luc acknowledged with a grim nod.
"By the time Yvette's brother, Thierry and I got back to the barracks, they'd discovered you missing. No way
we could
get close to Williams. The place was like an ant hill. Thierry stayed to try again later."

Even in the darkness, Avery could tell by the sudden shift in Rip's stance that he felt the same sense of doom she did. With Rip gone, had the soldiers killed Williams? The very thought made her nauseous.

"Sun's almost down," Luc quickly switched the subject. "Let's get out of here." He swung the door open wide and motioned for them to proceed him. "We're going by boat to St.
Namadie
."

"Where's that?" Avery asked, sucking in a deep breath of fresh air.

Rip answered while Luc relocked the door.
"The other side of the island.
It's the town where my mother grew up and where we lived when I was a little boy."

"You'll be safer there." Luc reassured,
then
led the way to the dock.

They walked quickly through the fading twilight. Relief coursed through Avery's veins as Rip kept pace on his own, with only the slightest hint of a limp. Luc stopped beside one of the little skiffs tied to the pilings. With peeling paint, and an ancient outboard motor, the craft barely looked sea-worthy.

Avery bit her lip and silently hoped they weren't making that proverbial leap from frying pan to fire. But it wasn't like they had any other choice, she reminded herself. She gripped Luc's hand for balance as she stepped from the pier into the boat, and sat on the wooden plank seat closest to the bow. Rip followed, but sat on the back bench closer to the motor. Luc untied the ropes securing the skiff to the dock,
then
leapt in.

After a couple of tries, the engine sputtered to life and they were off. Traffic in the harbor was minimal, and confined mostly to the more industrial side. Still, Luc kept the boat close to the shoreline, their speed maddeningly slow. Though Avery realized he was trying to attract as little notice as possible, her shoulders ached with tension, and every noise made her jump. Williams might very well be dead. She and Rip could easily be next.

The cooling breeze whipped against her face and tugged at the cloth wrapped around her head. Avery reached up and unwound it, folding the colorful fabric and placing it in her shoulder bag. She'd twisted her hair into a knot in order to keep it covered, but she loosened it, even undoing the ponytail she wore most of the time. Finger-combing out the worst of the tangles, she let the strands blow back over her shoulders. If she was going to die tonight, at least she could enjoy the wind in her hair one last time.

Chapter 7

The sight of Avery's golden hair whipping in the breeze set off a battle of possessiveness, recrimination and guilt in Rip's consciousness. She'd risked everything to save his life, and he'd put her in harm's way. He hoped and prayed that Luc was right and they'd be safe in St.
Namadie
, at least until he figured out a way to get himself and Avery off
Benezet
.

But first he wanted answers from Luc, which was why he'd chosen to sit near him instead of Avery. He waited until they'd negotiated their way safely out of the harbor and headed into open sea.

Seeing no point in small talk, Rip began without preamble. "So who sent you to LA with me?"

Luc glanced at him, but his face and ton remained impassive.
"Your uncle Jean Jacques and your cousin JB.
They knew your father was dying and they wanted to make sure you wouldn't try to stop them from consolidating their control."

Rip had heard this same nonsense from the CIA agents in Miami. He hadn't put much credence in it then, and he still had a hard time believing he could be seen as a threat. "I don't get
it,
I hadn't been to
Benezet
in years."

"But as the legitimate heir of
Phillipe
Pollendene
, you had every right to step into your father's place," Luc informed him. "And there are many on
Benezet
who would support you. Remember when I came back to
Benezet
six months ago? I couldn’t believe what was happening. Since
Phillipe's
death, Jean Jacque has lost his grip, and JB has grown drunk and greedy with his new power. Winds of change have stirred up everyone on the island."

Abruptly, Avery turned and joined the conversation. "Isn't it the CIA who has stirred everyone up?"

Luc shrugged as he guided the boat around a rocky outcrop sticking out of the water. "Certainly the CIA would like a Caribbean leader they can control. They think that might be
Rip
. I think they’re wrong. But I see now that
Benezet
is ready for a new leader."

Rip shifted uneasily at his old friend's pointed reference. "You've all got the wrong man," he insisted. "I'm not interested in politics here or anywhere else."

"Your cousin and uncle appear to believe otherwise," Luc replied in what was most likely the understatement of the year.

"And clearly the CIA has blown this in a major way," Avery declared, crossing her arms with a
hrumph
. "So how are we getting out of this?"

"For now, we can only try to hide in a safe place," Luc answered in his annoying aloof manner that grated on Rip's nerves almost as much as the precarious situation.

"I guess we have no other choice," he reluctantly admitted.

"I'm afraid not," Luc agreed increasing their speed.

The noise of the outboard motor hampered further conversation. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts as the boat skimmed over the dark water.

After an hour, Rip felt a shift in the direction of the wind, and figured they must be rounding the southern end of the island. The wind immediately picked up and the water grew rougher. With no suitable harbors below
Saturnina
, that region of
Benezet
remained unpopulated, so they saw no other
watercraft,
and no lights from the shore. Rip hoped Luc remembered how to navigate between
Saturnina
and St.
Namadie
.

Another half-hour later, he got his answer when the twinkling lights of the town appeared. Relief washed through him, but a nagging bit of unease lingered. His concern increased a notch when Luc slowed the boat and pointed them toward shore before they reached St.
Namadie
.

"Do you remember
Caillou
Beach?" Luc asked as they headed for a small crescent of dark sand.

Distant memories coalesced in Rip's consciousness and he nodded. "I played here as a child."

"Then I trust you can find your way to Mama Simone's from here." Luc cut the motor and let the waves wash them up. "She'll be expecting you."

Full-blown fear flashed inside Rip. "You better not have put her in danger!"

"Relax," Luc admonished. The boat ground to a halt in about two feet of water. "I meant she's a Sage Femme and will have foreseen your return." He turned his attention to Avery. "I'm sorry my dear, I'm afraid you must get your feet wet."

Avery looked at the two of them with an annoyed expression. "Who is this Mama Simone and what's a Sage Femme?"

"She was my nanny." Rip, who was barefoot, turned the legs of his baggy pants up so that they were above his knees. "And the Sage Femmes are local island legends, sort of like voodoo priestess."

Luc's tone bordered on scolding.
"The Sage Femmes are real and we've all seen and heard about some of the things they do. People respect and sometimes fear them for good reason."