HIS RELUCTANT BODYGUARD
By
Loucinda McGary
Copyright © 2012 by Loucinda McGary Munoz
All rights reserved. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction and all characters, names, places and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or used in a fictitious manner. Any similarities to real persons living or dead, actual locales or events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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DEDICATION
In loving memory of my dear friend and First Reader Extraordinaire Marlyn A. Farley, who read my work for decades (even the naughty parts that made her blush) and always offered encouragement and helpful advice from her unique perspective. Marlyn lived her own happily-ever-after with her best friend and hero for fifty-nine years. She passed away in 2012 just eleven days after he did. Rest in peace, Marlyn, and I hope you know how much your friendship meant to me.
And for Dave who provided inspiration and never-ending support for this story. Thank you for believing in me and my writing even if I didn’t always believe in myself.
Chapter 1
Wind whipped in Rip Pollendene’s face and flipped his sweatshirt hood back as the cruiser sped across the dark, smooth surface of the water.
“There she is up ahead.” Rip followed the pointing finger of his companion Agent Dante Williams and saw the strings of white lights that marked the cruise ship Valiant. “Not much longer now,” Williams added, stifling a yawn. “Been a long night.”
Rip gave a slight nod of agreement at the CIA agent’s understatement. This was hardly the way he’d planned to return home. Matter of fact, retuning to his boyhood home of Benezet hadn’t been his intention at all until some guy took a pot-shot at him right in the middle of the fund-raising dinner for his alma mater U of Miami.
Several long hours and countless miles of dark ocean had elapsed, but their objective was finally in sight. Rip could see the white bulky shape growing closer with each passing moment. Their skipper had been in radio contact with the captain of Valiant, and everything was prepared for their arrival. Too bad Rip didn’t feel equally ready.
“Tell me again how we’re getting from this itty bitty boat into that — that behemoth?” he asked Williams.
“Wow, a jock who uses big words.” The agent mocked with the patronizing attitude he’d displayed most of the evening.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s a big ship,” Rip retorted, but bit back anything personal he might have added. No point sinking to Williams’ level. “And we’re supposed to jump from the deck through a doorway they open? Please tell me we’ll all be standing still when it happens.”
“They can’t exactly stop those big boys on a dime.” Even in the darkness, Rip could see Williams rolling his eyes with derision. “Besides, ACL is doing a lot to accommodate us, so no. We won’t be standing still.” He gestured at their skipper and mate. “These guys know what they’re doing. Don’t be scared of falling in, Pretty Boy.”
Rip started to ask if he looked scared, but thought better of it. The fund-raiser he and his assistant Luc DuBois had attended had been a formal event. He’d taken off his tuxedo jacket, shirt, and bow tie and put on the hoodie, but he still wore his dress shoes and slacks. He might not look scared but he was relatively certain he looked pretty damn ridiculous.
“Fine,” he muttered, wishing for the jeans and sneakers Williams had changed into from his own piece of luggage.
All Rip had was a small duffle bag with some very basic items toiletries and the sweatshirt he now wore. At least he wouldn’t have too much more time to worry about leaping from one moving watercraft to another, for Valiant loomed up on their left side pretty much filling his field of vision. They hit the wake of the big ship and their much smaller vessel bounced and banged across the waves before they turned to pull parallel with Valiant. As they skimmed alongside, Rip heard their skipper cut back the engine and felt their speed decrease. He supposed he should be grateful that Valiant was moving a lot slower than they had been, but the dark water still seemed to be moving too fast for him to feel much comfort.
While he tried to count the number of stories on the cruise liner, Williams disappeared into the cabin for a moment and re-emerged with their duffle bags. Rip took out his wallet and shoved it into his almost empty bag. Just in case the worse happened and he did fall into the water, his money and ID wouldn’t get wet. He ignored Williams’ contemptuous snort.
Their boat slowed further, and the mate brushed past him and Williams to climb out onto the front deck. Two wide double doors gaped open on Valiant’s side about five or six feet above the water line. Rip saw several blue-clad crewman milling inside the ship.
“Hand me your bags,” the mate shouted as the skipper adjusted their speed to match the big ship.
Rip passed his over, noting how easily the man balanced on the slick, moving deck.
“Heads up!” The mate shouted and when two crewmen moved to either side of the door, he easily tossed Rip’s duffel through the opening into one man’s waiting arms. Williams’ bag was obviously much heavier, for the mate had to grip it with both hands before he slung it across.
Ah shit, here we go! Rip’s mouth went dry with the realization that he really had to do this.
“Want me to go first and show you how it’s done?” Williams asked, but Rip shouldered him aside.
“No, I’ll go first.” He wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs and climbed up next to the mate.
He could feel every movement of the boat, and as he’d suspected, just standing on the front deck was harder than it looked. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he struggled to maintain his balance. Heâd managed to stay on his feet in more difficult situations back in his football days.
The wiry mate gripped his shoulder to help him maintain his balance. “Piece o’ cake,” the man encouraged. “Those guys will catch you same as they did the bags.”
Rip refrained from mentioning that at six four and two thirty, he was considerably bigger than any piece of luggage. Instead, he clenched his jaw, focused on the open doorway bobbing a few feet away, and leaped.
The second in mid-air seemed to stretch an eternity — like all those times on the field when he’d reached out to catch the football and it seemed to hang just beyond his grasp. But that long moment of free-fall ended with his feet hitting the floor of the ship in mid-stride. Two crewmen grabbed his arms and Rip’s momentum nearly propelled all three of them into a wall. Fortunately, they stopped in time.
Exhilarated by the adrenalin rush, he turned his head to say thanks only to see Williams flying through the doors. But the agent’s landing was not nearly as successful as his. Rip watched helplessly as the crewman reaching for Williams’ left arm stumbled and missed. Overbalanced, the other crewman and Williams went down in a heap with the agent yelping in pain as they landed.
A flurry of swear words and hustling bodies ensued until a man in a white uniform, obviously an officer, stepped into the fray. “Are you all right, sir?” he asked in a Scandinavian accent. “Do you need the doctor?”
“No,” Williams quickly answered, pulling what Rip recognized as a ‘tough-guy’ routine. “I’ll be fine.”
But when the officer helped him stand, Rip noticed Williams winced and didn’t put any weight on his left foot.
“You sure you’re okay?” Rip asked, picking up both duffle bags.
Williams shot him a steely glare. “Yes.” Then he snatched his bag from Rip’s hand and turned to the officer. “Just get us to our room.”
“Of course. This way, gentlemen.”
Rip took a last glance at the smaller boat speeding away in the darkness before the crewmen closed and secured the metal doors. What the hell have I gotten myself into? He wondered, and not for the first time, as he followed Williams and the officer to a set of elevators. Even though he had no interest in the political situation on a scrap of land in the Caribbean, apparently plenty of others did, including the US government.
At this late hour, no passengers were out and about so the elevator opened immediately. Rip and Williams followed the officer inside. He pushed the top button. Fourteen, though thirteen was conspicuously missing, Rip noticed. The elevator whisked them up without stopping.
“The agency deeply appreciates ACL and the crew of Valiant’s assistance in this delicate matter.” Williams reeled off the party line as the elevator halted and the door slid open.
Their guide nodded absently, the epitome of ‘just following orders,’ and led the way around a corner to a single private elevator in the middle of an empty hallway. The three of them filed into the small space for the short ride up a single floor. When the door opened, a wide lobby greeted them with only four doors, one in each corner with a brass nameplate mounted beside each. As they walked by the first door, Rip read the plaque: African Safari Suite.
Suite? Their “room” was actually a suite. Things were definitely looking up.
While Williams limped slowly behind, Rip eagerly kept pace with the officer, who stopped beside the door which was designated Wilderness Retreat Suite.
“Your butler Nadeesh will be on duty at 8 a.m.” The man swung the door open wide. “He will have your key cards and a light breakfast. Please let him know if you require anything else.”
Rip stepped into the room which was decorated to resemble a rustic hunting lodge with heavy wooden furniture and a fake electric fireplace against one wall with a fifty-two inch flat screen TV mounted over it. “Thanks, this is great!” But before he could shake the man’s hand, Williams dragged up, muttered a half-hearted thank you and the officer disappeared.
As soon as the door shut, Williams collapsed into the nearest chair. Rip decided to take advantage of the situation and headed for the master bedroom to stake his claim. It was bigger than his bedroom back home in Redondo Beach with a much larger master bath.
“Suuu-weet!” he declared, eyeing the jacuzzi tub.
At least he’d get to relax for a couple of days before he had to wade into the morass that the CIA claimed had engulfed his former homeland. Except when he’d attended his father’s funeral eighteen months ago, he hadn’t set foot on Benezet since heâd been a child. He never really thought about the fact that his uncle Jean Jacques Pollendene had ruled the island for over thirty years, and his own father Phillippe was the military muscleman who kept him there. When Phillippe died suddenly eighteen months ago, Rip’s cousin Jean Baptiste had taken over command, a situation that suited Rip just fine. But if Williams and his buddies were to be believed, there were others in the West Indies and beyond who were ready to seize control of Benezet, just as the Pollendene brothers had three decades earlier. Only this time, the US government didn’t want the balance of power to shift in a direction they didn’t like. Rip wouldn’t have cared, but someone had tried to shoot him, and he intended to find out who and why. The CIA wanted him to go to Benezet and that seemed to Rip to be a good place to start.
“I suppose you’re staying in the bedroom,” Williams called out, his tone unmistakably sour.
“Damn straight!” Rip answered, then he shut the door and turned on the shower.
The hot, pulsating water soothed his badly rattled nerves and calmed his swirling thoughts. Maybe he would get some restful sleep after all. Within ten minutes, drowsiness overcame him and he stumbled out and dried off. He donned the plush terry robe hanging on the back of the door, and brushed his teeth with his brand new toothbrush before, wobbling with exhaustion, he made it just far enough into the bedroom to collapse on the king-sized bed.
Voices from the next room awakened Rip from a deep, dreamless sleep. He opened his eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the partially open drapes over the sliding door that opened to a private outdoor verandah. Bright azure ocean sparkled on the horizon.
Scrubbing his hand over his face, Rip crawled out of bed and stuck his head out the door into the main room. A short, wiry man in a crisp blue uniform was speaking to Agent Williams, who slouched across the sofa.
“Please sir, you must allow me to call the doctor,” the small man said with a distinct Indian accent.
As he watched the man scurry over to a desk and pick up a telephone, Rip caught the enticing smell of freshly brewed coffee. Like a hound on the scent, he emerged from the bedroom and headed for a cart near the door.
“What’s up?” he asked Williams, who had apparently slept on the couch in his clothes.
“My fucking ankle,” Williams groused. “I really screwed it up last night.”
Rip poured himself a cup of steaming dark brew from the hot pot on the cart and added a splash of cream from the pitcher on the bottom shelf. Several covered dishes crowded the top of the cart, and Rip’s stomach growled at just the thought of breakfast.
Williams craned his head around but didn’t try to get up. “Hey, pour me a cup of that, will ya?”
“Please sir, allow me!” The small man hung up the phone and rushed over to take the container from Rip’s hand. “This is my job. I am your butler, Nadeesh.” He motioned for Rip to take a seat at the dining table, and addressed Williams. “Please sir, the doctor will be here directly to see to your ankle.” Then he turned back to Rip. “Please sir, would you care for hot or cold cereal? Fruit? Toast or a breakfast pastry?”
“I’ll take one of everything,” Rip replied and sat down to keep out of Nadeesh’s way.
He’d finished his oatmeal with raisins and started on a plate of sliced melons when the doctor arrived. Curiosity got the better of him, and he ambled over to stand behind Williams as the doctor did his exam.
It wasn’t pretty.
In spite of Williams’ ankle being blue and purple and swollen to twice its size, the doctor pronounced it a sprang, not a break. Over the agent’s protests, he said to ice it, elevate it, and stay off it for at least seventy-two hours. Then he promised to be back with an elastic bandage and pain meds, and left before Williams could voice any more objections.
While Williams muttered a few obscenities, Rip went back to the table and spread marmalade on his toast. “Hey, at least you can watch TV.”
“I need to be watching you,” Williams grumbled, taking a bowl of cereal from the butler.
“I’m a big boy,” Rip countered. “I can watch myself.”
“Listen Mister — ” Williams stopped short and scowled at Nadeesh, who promptly disappeared into the master bedroom, clicking the door shut behind himself. The agent set his bowl on the coffee table before he addressed Rip again. “Someone wants your ass dead, Pollendene. The agency wants you alive, and they assigned me to keep you that way.”
Rip got to his feet and moved so that he was face to face with his surly companion. “Now you listen to me. If you think I’m gonna sit here playing nursemaid to you for three days, you can think again. I’ve never been on a cruise before, and I intend to enjoy it.”
Williams did not take Rip’s announcement well. His face puckered like an angry bulldog. “If I have to call security to put you in shackles, so help me I will.”
“Give me a break, Agent Williams.” Thinking fast, Rip switched his tone and tactics. “My whole life just got tossed in the crapper. Nobody on this ship knows m
e or you. There’s nothing to worry about. I just want to go to the gym and maybe the pool.” Seeing the other man’s expression shift, Rip added, “I’ll even have Nadeesh follow me around to make sure I don’t get in any trouble.”
“Having a crewman stay with you might not be a bad idea,” Williams conceded with a sigh. “But I’m not sure our butler is the best choice for a bodyguard.”
Rip tried to tamp down his triumph a notch while inwardly doing a fist pump. “Let’s call the guy who brought us on board last night and ask him.”
But when Rip went to the phone, Nadeesh reappeared and insisted on making the call. “Please sir, this is my job to get whatever you need.”
With a shrug, Rip handed him the phone and the butler dug into his pocket and gave him two plastic key cards. “Here are your sea pass cards, sir.”
Rip couldn’t help but snort when he read the names on them — John Smith and James Brown. As he ambled back to the table to finish his toast, he flipped one of the cards in Williams’ direction. “Here, you can go chasing after Pocahantas. I’ll be the godfather of soul.”
A short while later, the doctor returned to wrap Williams’ ankle, and he brought a list of Valiant crew members who could serve as Rip’s escort around the ship. Once more gazing over William’s shoulder, Rip scanned the list of a dozen names and almost choked on his orange juice. Looked like he’d been dead wrong about nobody on the ship knowing him.
“What?” Williams demanded. “You recognize a name?”
Did he ever! With a shaky finger, Rip pointed at a name halfway down the list. “Her, Avery Knox. I want her as my bodyguard.”
***
“Woo hoo! Avery!”
At the sound of her name being screeched out in an all-too-familiar nasally twang, a muscle in Avery Knox’s tightly clenched jaw jerked involuntarily.
Ginger Judd was without a doubt the most annoying person on the face of the earth. Never mind that they’d only met three days ago, Avery was positive no one else could possibly be more aggravating. The woman had no sense of rhythm, couldn’t carry a tune, and needed a “wide load” sign on her butt. Just Avery’s luck, she was stuck sharing both a job and a cabin with the red-haired hag.
His Reluctant Bodyguard Page 1
