His Reluctant Bodyguard

by Loucinda McGary

  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.

  The excruciating pain made him groan aloud. Sweating and swearing, he wiggled and squirmed but to no avail. He tried two more times before he unhooked his still bound hands and sank down on the filthy floor, panting with the effort. He lay there for what seemed a long time before he caught his breath. Once he did, he decided to try a different tactic — working his securely fastened hands in front of him.

  Rip twisted and writhed around on the floor for what felt like hours, trying to draw up his legs and move his hands under himself. Time and again, he tried and failed, the throbbing and stabbing pains worse than anything he’d ever felt, but fear kept him going. If he couldn’t get free, he might very well die here. Getting his hands loose was the first step.

  His mouth and throat were so parched he could no longer curse, and his shoulders felt like they’d been set afire before he accomplished his goal. With his hands in front of him at last, exhaustion claimed him and Rip once again curled up on the grimy concrete. When he finally summoned enough energy to stand and hook the plastic restraints around the door handle once more, he heard unmistakable scuffling outside.

  Holding his breath, Rip flattened himself against the wall behind the door and waited. Moments later, a light tap sounded against the wood and a hoarse whisper followed. “Rip? Are you in there? Answer me!”

  Air exploded from his lungs in a gush. “Avery?”

  The ratcheting sound of the bolt being thrown echoed through his shocked mind. Then the door flew open and a woman in traditional Caribbean garb complete with head scarf rushed inside.

  “A-avery?” His voice cracked and he swayed unsteadily on his feet. “What are — you doing — here?”

  “Saving your ass!” She hissed, and her voice was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. She opened her mouth to say more, but one look at him left her momentarily speechless. “Wh-what happened? Oh my God, Rip, are you all right?”

  “I am now,” he managed to croak. while a crazy dizzying warmth struck him squarely in his gut. She loves me. Avery loves me! She wouldn’t be here otherwise.

  “Let’s get out of here.” She spotted the bindings around his swollen and bloody hands and cringed. “First I’ll take care of those.”

  While he watched stupefied, Avery reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a lethal looking knife. She slid the tip between his wrist and the plastic, and with one flick, sliced right through. As Rip’s right hand fell limply to his side, she pulled the plastic tight and cut it from his left wrist.

  “There, lean on me.” She pulled his aching arm across her shoulders and urged him out into the corridor.

  The circulation returning to his hands hurt so much Rip scarcely felt his other aches and pains. Still, he tried not to put too much of his weight on her as they shuffled out of the cell. A million questions raced through his brain, but he couldn’t manage to form any words. It took everything in him just to keep moving.

  Avery paused at the entrance of the building and opened the door a crack. The coast must have been clear, for she urged him out and closed the door behind them. Even though clouds obscured the afternoon sun, Rip could hardly hold his stinging eyes open in the light. He had to let her lead him. They slid around the corner of the building so that they were facing away from the road and the rest of the compound.

  “Can you move any faster?” Concern laced Avery’s voice.

  If it meant not getting caught, he’d make sure he did. He nodded and pulled up all his strength. “Ready.”

  With a shambling gait that seemed slower than a snail’s pace, the two of them crossed the bare patch of ground beside the low-slung building. A copse of trees was their obvious destination, but Rip felt sure they’d never make it without being spotted.

  Miraculously, they reached the trees unscathed. Avery guided him around the first two trunks into the deeper shade before she let him stop. Letting go of her, Rip leaned heavily against the gnarled bark and gasped out, “Water.”

  After gazing nervously behind and around them, Avery reached into her shoulder bag and produced a clear plastic bottle. She undid the cap and handed it to him. In spite of his unsteady hands, Rip downed half the contents in one gulp.

  Before he could swallow more, Avery tapped his arm. “Save some for later. I don’t know when we’ll get more.”

  Nodding his understanding, he handed the bottle back and watched as she replaced the cap and shoved it back into her bag. Wild, unreasoning love hammered through his veins.

  “How…” he began, but she put her finger across his lips before he could say anything else.

  Expression anxious, she gazed back toward the low building they’d just left. Rip realized they must be waiting for someone. He craned his neck so that he could look too. They didn’t wait long. A minute or two later, Rip saw another person dash across the empty space toward their hiding place.

  “Here!” Avery signaled, and a familiar figure huffed up next to Rip.

  “Luc?” Rip questioned in astounded disbelief. “I thought you – “

  His old friend shook his head as his dark eyes took in Rip’s injuries. “You hurt?”

  “What about –” Avery began but Luc shook his head again, his face grim.

  “Williams’ leg is busted. Probably some ribs too. He’s not going anywhere right now.”

  Rip’s mind spun. “Hold on! Are you saying we’re leaving Williams in there?”

  “Have to.” Luc sidled up and pulled one of Rip’s arms over his shoulder. “We gotta get you away first. Ready, Avery?”

  She bobbed her head and positioned herself on Rip’s other side. “Trust us for right now, Rip. Please.”

  Her entreaty stopped his protests. He’d walk through fire if she asked. Or at the moment, crawl. With one on each side, they guided Rip out of the trees and alongside the road leading to the compound. Nobody had to admonish him to hurry. He knew the danger of being out in the open. Fortunately, they only had to go as far as the first bend in the road, where a golf cart sat parked on a gravel turnout.

  “Lie on the floor in the back,” Luc instructed. “Less chance of being seen.”

  With Avery’s assistance, he wedged himself into the small floor space between the front and back seats. Assailed with fear and confusion, he didn’t have time to think about pain, much less question the rapidly unfolding events. As Luc and Avery climbed into the front, all Rip could do was pray they weren’t caught.

  Long minutes dragged by until he could tell by the change in the road that they were in town. Traffic noises started up too, beeping horns and the rumble of a few trucks. The latter made his heart pound, but Luc and Avery remained silent and the cart never increased its speed so there must have been no immediate danger.

  The crying of gulls told Rip they were near the harbor area. He wondered what Luc planned to do next. Before he could form any coherent speculations, the cart slowed and stopped.

  “One minute,” Luc instructed in a low voice. “Stay down.”

  The latter directed at Rip, who didn’t move. Avery also remained silent.

  Rip kept his head down, but strai
ned his ears. He heard a rap like Luc was knocking on a door. Then he heard him speaking in Benezet patois, the words soft and almost musical. Whoever answered him spoke even more softly, for Rip couldn’t hear the replies at all, nor could he make out more than a word or two of what Luc said. Something about a boat and night was all he could comprehend before Luc rushed back to the cart.

  “Quickly,” he urged. “Go with my friend Yvette.”

  Stifling a groan, Rip hauled himself up and out. Avery had her arm around him immediately, helping him stand. A young girl of no more than fourteen or fifteen with her hair braided in elaborate cornrows stood next to Luc. She bobbed her head by way of introduction but looked Rip and Avery up and down with somber dark eyes and a serious expression on her youthful face.

  “We need to hide you until dark,” Luc explained. “Yvette will show you where. Meantime, her brother and I will try to do something for Williams.”

  “Be careful,” Avery whispered as Luc climbed back into the driver’s seat.

  “This way.” Yvette spoke to them in English, and led the way between two buildings without looking back.

  Avery pulled him along with her. The three of them emerged on a rise about fifty yards from a small dock. A half-dozen fishing skiffs were tied near the end, and a couple of fisherman puttered around, not looking in their direction. Two ramshackle little buildings stood near the foot of the pier, one obviously a privy. The girl, Yvette led them to the other, fitted a long key into the ancient lock and swung the door open.

  “You stay here,” she said, motioning with her hand for them to enter. “I bring some food and things later.”

  An overwhelming stench of brine and rotten fish floated out and made Rip cough.

  Avery too, though she did manage to say, “Bring bandages and water.”

  The girl nodded her understanding as she closed the door behind them.

  The only light came from slanting rays of sunlight that shone through the cracks in the ill-fitted boards. Eyes watering from the horrendous smell, Rip looked around for someplace to sit, but the room had only a water spigot and a waist high shelf next to it. Judging from the stains and errant scales, the fisherman cleaned small fish and cut bail here.

  “Sit on this.” Ever resourceful, Avery upended a five gallon plastic bucket. “I’m going to at least clean your face while we wait.”

  He knew better than to argue, so he sat while she checked the water from the spigot.

  “Salty,” she announced after holding her wet fingers up to her nose. Then she pulled the water bottle from her bag and moistened a patch of her skirt hem before handing him the bottle. “Go ahead and finish it.”

  Even though it was warm, the water felt soothing going down. He sincerely hoped the girl brought more, and soon. After he guzzled down the water, Avery lifted the wet fabric and dabbed at his swollen eye. He could see that she wore her dark blue Bermuda shorts under the colorful skirt, and the bandana tied around her head effectively hid her golden hair, though her blue eyes were a dead giveaway that she wasn’t a Benezetian. Luckily, nobody had been close enough to notice, so far.

  Rip bit the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning while she finished up on his eye. But when she moved to the cut on his cheek, he couldn’t stop himself from flinching. As a distraction, he asked the question foremost on his mind. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She gave a half-shrug with one shoulder without pausing in her ministrations. “Luc showed up in the flea market at the Port au France dock, looking for you. He said your life was in danger, so I came with him. I am still your bodyguard after all.”

  ***

  Over an hour passed but the girl Yvette hadn’t returned. Avery had already given in and sat on the hard packed dirt floor while Rip continued to sit on the bucket with his head resting against the wall. His breathing seemed to be shallow and fast, and she worried that he might have some internal injuries. He’d refused to remove his filthy, blood stained shirt and let her check his ribs and back, but the cuts and bruises on his face were bad enough to make her imagine the worst.

  Five more minutes, she decided. Then she was going to make Rip take off his shirt so that she could try to do something, anything to help. She’d already gone through the contents of her purse for anything useful or edible, and had come up with one ancient cough drop with the wrapping pretty much fused to it. After scraping off as much of the paper as possible, she’d forced Rip to put it in his mouth. But he’d flat out refused to let her use the cotton in a tampon for a bandage.

  Too bad! In three more minutes she would push the issue, and she was fairly certain he was too weak to really stop her. Fortunately, the rattling of the lock saved her from rash action. Rip bolted upright and Avery stood as Yvette backed into the room, carrying a large woven basket.

  “Where’s Luc?” Rip immediately demanded, his voice strong enough to flood Avery with relief. Maybe he wasn’t hurt as badly as she feared.

  “Still gone,” the girl answered in her musical accent as she shut the door and set the basket in the middle of the floor. She handed each of them a bottle of cold water and unwrapped a foil package with chunks of battered fish and slices of fried yam, which she offered first to Avery.

  Avery thought the awful smell inside the hut had killed her appetite, but the moment she laid eyes on the food, she discovered otherwise. She shoved two slices of yam into her mouth and grabbed a piece of fish before Yvette held the package in front of Rip. He ate more slowly, obviously because chewing hurt his swollen jaw, but his appetite wasn’t lacking either. They finished the meal within minutes.

  Next Yvette produced a plastic bag with a small container of rubbing alcohol and a big roll of white gauze, which Avery quickly grabbed.

  “All right, you.” She motioned at Rip with her most imperious glare. “Off with the shirt.”

  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.”