His Reluctant Bodyguard (9 page)

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 o’ 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 flying 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.

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.