His Reluctant Bodyguard (8 page)

Gathering all the dirty dishes onto the tray, Avery carefully set everything on the floor outside the door. Far down the hall, two room stewards had set up their linen cart, but they didn't pause or look in her direction as she quickly closed the door and turned the dead bolt lock.

After brushing her teeth, Avery took her bottle of nail polish, clipper and files, and sat in the middle of her bed to give herself a pedicure. In the midst of her filing and buffing, she heard a muffled noise from Rip, then the TV clicked off and next thing she knew, he was doing push-ups in the middle of the room. Next, he switched to stomach crunches. By the time she applied the second coat of Peachy Keen polish to her toes, he'd done some running in place cardio, cooled down and gone back for another shower.

While he was in there, Avery did some stretches and a few yoga moves to relieve her burgeoning tension headache. When that didn't work, she ate a cookie. Rip came back and switched the TV on, finally settling on a soccer game between two Dominican Republic teams.

The long morning dragged on, and when noon passed with no food delivery, the two of them ate the rest of the fruit and cookies. Tension stretched so thickly between them that they gave up any pretense of small talk. The phone finally rang at a quarter of two and an apologetic
Nadeesh
arrived five minutes later with burgers, a huge container of potato salad, and more fruit.

With minimal conversation, they dispatched everything but two oranges. At one point, Rip broke into spontaneous exercise again. When Avery tried to join him, he turned his back to finish his third repetition of crunches,
then
dashed into the shower again. At this rate, she'd have to use one of the pool towels. She checked the top shelf in the closet just to be sure the two supplied in every passenger cabin were there.

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 over-sized 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 up-right, 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.