“Never mind the shoes,” Luc ordered, crossing to the bank of windows. “Bring him out here on the balcony.”
As Luc stepped out, a volley of lights hit the windows. Rip had to shade his eyes with one hand, while he led his uncle like a child. He could hear voices in the courtyard below them, but the lights aimed at them prevented him from seeing anything clearly. Luc yelled into the bullhorn and a ragged cheer went up for the gathering.
“Our people still love us, Phillippe!” Ripâs uncle enthused, and rushed to the balcony railing, waving his arms.
Rip followed and grasped his shoulder in an attempt to pull him back. Squinting, Rip could see a crowd of twenty or thirty people, most appeared to be Lucâs fatigue-clad cohorts, though a few were plain dressed citizens. Luc himself continued to shout through the bullhorn about a free election and the cheering grew louder. Jean Jacques continued his manic waving, refusing to let Rip draw him away. Instead, the older man clasped Ripâs hand and lifted both their arms high.
“Yes, my people!” Jean Jacques shouted. “We love you all!”
“Come back inside, Uncle.” Rip had had enough of this grandstanding.
But as he backed toward the balcony door, he realized the peopleâs cheers had turned to a chant. He stood momentarily dumbfounded as he recognized the words â “Rip! Rip! Rip! Rip!”
Chapter 11
Avery stood next to Roussellot on the edge of the group in the courtyard, when her young companion took up chanting Ripâs name. The realization hit her, this was exactly what Luc, Mama Simone, and the CIA all wanted. Maybe it was what Rip wanted, too. What heâd been born to do.
Panic gripped her by the throat and shut off her breath. She stumbled with the enormity of the realization, almost losing her balance, but managed to drag in a gasp of air.
Roussellot gave her a questioning look. “Is something wrong, Mademoiselle?”
Everything! She wanted to shout. Instead she waved her hand in front of her face. “I think I — Iâm going to be sick⦔ Doubled over, she staggered to a nearby flowerbed and retched.
“Mademoiselle Avery, you are ill!” Roussellot cried in distress. He grabbed the nearest bystander. “Help me, the lady needs medical attention.”
Avery felt the two men pull her arms around their necks. The floppy hat sheâd been wearing fell on the cobblestones, and her bandana went askew sending strands of blonde hair into her eyes. The men hustled her across the courtyard so quickly that she couldnât keep up and her feet dragged painfully. However, they reached the jeep before she could protest. When Roussellot made her lie down in the back, she finally sputtered out that she was okay, but he would not be deterred.
“Iâm taking you to hospital.” The young man insisted as he jumped into the driverâs seat.
As the jeep bounced and bumped through the dark, Avery resignedly hung on. In truth, she was glad to be anywhere else but that courtyard where the future of Benezet was being shaped. A future that included Rip but not her. If sheâd learned anything since arriving on this island, it was that she didnât belong here.
Roussellot drove with one hand on the horn, beeping it constantly as he shouted out the open window. The hospital must have been closer than sheâd thought, for once they reached the bottom of the hill, they only made a couple of turns before Roussellot slowed the jeep to a crawl. Avery sat up and blinked at the white two story building with lights streaming out of all its windows while every other building was dark. Of course it would have a generator, she realized.
It was also thronged with people. Most seemed to be women and children and many were wailing or crying. Several uniformed men jostled through the crowd trying to keep order. Roussellot inched the jeep as close to the front doors as possible before he shut off the engine.
“Stay here, Mademoiselle,” he ordered, leaping out of the vehicle. “I will bring a doctor to you.”
Avery closed her eyes and did deep breathing in an effort to turn off her swirling thoughts. After several long moments, she began to relax. The din around her faded to a non-descript hum, and she let herself succumb to the fatigue sheâd pushed aside for hours. Minutes later, Roussellotâs hand on her shoulder startled Avery back to awareness.
The young manâs low voice filled her ear. “Mademoiselle Avery, here is Nurse Boucher, and Monsieur Thierry Beaumarchaise.”
She opened her mouth to speak, and the hefty white uniformed woman standing next to Roussellot shoved a thermometer under her tongue and shined a light into Averyâs left eye, then the right. Without pausing, the woman stuck her stethoscope into her ears and held the cold metal end on Averyâs chest while running a critical eye over her blonde hair. Giving a grunt of satisfaction, Nurse Boucher pulled out the thermometer, squinted and stuck it back in her pocket.
“Your arm, please,” she ordered and slapped on a blood pressure cuff.
“Will she be all right?” Roussellot asked with obvious concern, but the nurse shushed him with a severe expression.
Her countenance didnât change, but once she removed the cuff she barked out, “This woman is fine but sheâs exhausted. Take her some place to rest. We have no quiet spot, much less a bed here.”
“Weâll take her to my house.” Lucâs friend Thierry spoke up for the first time. “Câmon Roussellot, Iâll drive.”
With a snort, Nurse Boucher handed Avery a fat yellow pill. “Take this. It will help you sleep.” Then she spun on her heel and strode away before Avery could say thank you.
“I was checking on our friend Williams,” Thierry told her as he slid into the driverâs seat. “Heâs on the road to recovery.”
“Good to know,” Avery murmured, closing her eyes as the jeep began to move away from the brightly lit hospital to the dark street. She put the pill in her mouth and managed to swallow it dry.
“How far are we going?” Roussellot asked. “I must call Monsieur Rip and tell him where we are.”
“Not far. My house is next to the harbor. Luc knows where⦔ Thierryâs voice faded to a hum as Avery resumed her deep breaths and tuned out everything in hopes of the pill working.
A short time later, she smelled the salty tang of sea air and opened her eyes. Very few lights were visible, and the jeep headlights picked up no movements in the dark streets.
“When will the power be restored?” she asked.
“We have a ceremony planned for tomorrow morning.” Thierry replied. “I hope youâll be able to participate, along with Rip, of course.”
Avery stifled the urge to ask if she would need to keep her hair covered.
“Here we are.” Thierry pulled the jeep to a halt in front of a bright yellow cottage with soft light glowing in the front window. A slim figure emerged and ran down the steps. “You remember my sister, Yvette?”
The girl nodded as Roussellot helped Avery out of the jeep. The young man kept a firm grip on her elbow as if she were a doddering old lady. In fact, she felt like one too. The pill must be working.
“Iâll turn down a bed for you.” Yvette led the way inside. “Mind the buckets. The storm made the roof leak.”
A half dozen stubby candles shed enough light to make the front room feel cozy. Yvette grabbed one in a glass holder and disappeared down the hallway, deftly stepping around a plastic bucket. A sudden wave of fatigue made Averyâs knees wobble. Roussellot tightened his hold and guided her to the nearest chair.
“Monsieur Rip will meet us here soon,” the young man tried to reassure her.
Little did he realize Rip was the last person she wanted to see at the moment. Hearing those people back in the courtyard had made her realize that no matter what she and Rip might feel for each other, she simply could not play the part Rip seemed so eager to embrace. She didnât fit in on Benezet in a way that went far beyond her blonde hair and pale skin. Sadly, she probably never would.
Thierryâs deep voice interrupte
d her unpleasant thoughts. “Weâll need to find some suitable clothes for you and Rip for the ceremony tomorrow,”
As he spoke, his sister re-entered and gave him a poke in the chest. “Leave the lady alone. She donât need to worry about such stuff.” She turned to Avery and motioned for her to follow. “Donât worry, Mademoiselle, Iâll take care of you.”
“Gânight,” Avery slurred, trailing after Yvette.
A slight breeze ruffled the frilly curtains in the dim bedroom. As much as she would have liked a shower, Avery knew she wouldnât be able to stay awake for even five more minutes. She kicked off her shoes, untied her twine belt, and let her baggy pants drop to the floor. Her eyes closed before her head hit the pillow.
Shouts and loud noises jolted Avery awake. The deafening retort of a gun sent her leaping from the bed. A second shot and a terrified shriek sounded as she jerked her pants back on. Then, as she fumbled to tie the belt, the door burst open and a compact man with a huge gun in his hands stood on the dim threshold.
Her hands flew up, palms out, which was a surprise considering she couldnât move or breathe.
An ugly sneer spread across the manâs face. “What have we here?”
He motioned with the barrel of the gun for her to move, while from the front room, Yvette screamed again.
In spite of her terror, Avery managed to stumble past the gunman. In the front room, two more gunmen held Yvette between them. The struggling girl had a strip of duct tape across her math, and her wrists taped together. Thierry and Roussellot sprawled unmoving on the floor, blood spreading on the rug under them. Avery fought down the scream rising in her own throat.
One of the men backhanded Yvette and anger over-rode Averyâs fear. “Donât hurt her! Sheâs just a little girl.”
As the two gunmen stared at her, the man behind her circled around to stand in front of her, his automatic weapon still pointed menacingly, but his expression looked speculative. “So youâre an American.”
Even though it wasnât a question, Avery spat out, “Yes.”
His eyes narrowed. “Then you must be here with Rip Pollendene.”
Avery clamped her mouth shut and glared at him, while the other two snickered, probably at her audacity.
“Jean Baptiste will be very pleased to see you,” the man taunted.
Yvette kicked one of her captors on the shin and earned another slap. As Avery started to sputter in protest, the unharmed guy slapped a strip of duct tape across her mouth.
“Cooperate or Iâll shoot your little friend.” The guy whoâd found her threatened, pointing his weapon at Yvetteâs legs. “I wonât kill her. At least not right away, but I will shoot.”
Avery nodded her acquiescence while still staring daggers at him and picturing herself choking the life out of all three of the thugs. The one with the tape wrapped a strip twice around her wrists, and gave Thierryâs inert form a kick as he stepped over him. When Thierry made no noise or movement, tears gushed from Yvetteâs eyes.
Oh please donât let Thierry and Roussellot be dead! Avery silently prayed.
“Outside,” ordered the one closest to Avery, and he motioned with the gun at the door. “Move!”
***
The moment Rip spotted the open front door of the house, he knew something was wrong.
“What the hell?” Luc gasped as Rip leaped out of their cart before it came to a complete stop.
Pistol in hand, Rip barreled over the threshold shouting, “Avery?”
He almost tripped over Thierryâs bloody body, and he swore when he took in the shocking sight. Luc rushed in a moment later and cried out in dismay. As his friend dropped to his knees beside the two bodies, Rip ran for the other rooms.
“Avery?” he called again, even though his gut screamed that she was gone. All he found in the dark bedroom were her shoes.
“Rip!” Lucâs shout sent him dashing back into the living room.
Bent over the body of Roussellot, Lucâs hands were stained with blood, and tears trickled down his cheeks. “Heâs alive!”
Shoving his pistol back into his waistband, Rip dropped to the floor as Luc pulled out his phone with shaking fingers. While Luc spoke rapidly into the phone, Rip saw the boy Roussellotâs eyelids twitch. A miracle considering how much blood was everywhere.
“Hang on, Roussellot! Help is on the way.” Much to his relief, the kid drew in a ragged breath, then gave a weak cough. Rip glanced over at Thierry and then back to Luc, who shook his head and choked back a sob.
The minutes that passed while they waited for the paramedics to arrive seemed to drag on for a lifetime. Luc staggered into the bathroom, but the box of bandages he brought back were so small they were useless.
“Get some towels,” Rip ordered while he clasped Roussellotâs clammy fingers.
Luc returned with an armful of towels and a sheet, which he draped over Thierryâs body. Unfolding a bath towel, Rip pressed it against the wound in Roussellotâs chest, and the boy moaned.
“Hang in there, kid,” he ordered again, while he discerned the faint wail of a siren.
Roussellotâs eyelids fluttered and raised halfway. His fingers gripped Ripâs like a vise as he struggled to form words. “Thâthey⦠tâtook her.” He rasped out. “Took them both⦠JBâs men.”
Rip swallowed down the cry of anguish that rose in his throat, but his mind absolutely refused to think that Avery might be dead. Over his shoulder, he heard Luc groan. In front of him, Roussellotâs eyes drifted shut and his breath rattled. Rip pounded his fists into his thighs to center the searing pain coursing through his mind and body.
Though still in the distance, the siren grew louder. Why was the fucker taking so long? Rip grabbed another towel with his free hand and mopped at the blood seeping under his knees, all the while fighting the urge to rant and rave. Finally, the screaming siren sounded like it was rounding the corner.
Luc went outside and re-entered a few moments later with two paramedics on his heels. The two men brushed Rip aside in order to work on Roussellot. Rip backed into the kitchen and washed, the lines from MacBeth about hands never being clean suddenly echoed inside his head. His jaw ached from being clenched so tightly. He couldnât do anything else for Roussellot, instead he had to focus all his thoughts and energy on Avery.
By the time he returned to the living room, the paramedics had Roussellot on the stretcher. As he followed them outside, the lights of another vehicle flooded the walkway and a golf cart parked close to the walkway. While the paramedics loaded Roussellot into the ambulance, Luc led the two newcomers inside. Rip stood like a stone, fighting to remain calm enough to function. He couldnât help Avery if he lost it.
The ambulance roared away, siren blaring. Luc’s two compatriots carried out the sheet-draped body and placed it in the back of their golf cart. Luc bent his head and spoke briefly to them, but Rip was too far away to hear what was said. The cart pulled away, and Rip shook himself into action. The golf cart he and Luc had driven here was fine for short distances, but too slow for long ones.
Luc met him halfway down the path. “Donât worry, weâll find her, Yvette too.”
Rip sidestepped around him, headed for Roussellotâs jeep, still parked in front of the cottage. “I know where she is, and so do you. JB and his men have gone to the power plant.”
“Youâre probably right.” Luc grasped him by the arm, but Rip shook off his hand. “But you canât go alone. We arenât sure how many men he has with him. Thatâs why two troop transports are on their way.”
“Iâm not waiting,” Rip insisted. His churning gut shouted at him that heâd already waited long enough. The troop trucks would also be too slow.
As he hopped into the jeep, Luc dogged him. “It will only be five more minutes. Be reasonable, Rip. Getting yourself killed wonât help Avery.”
“Then Iâ
ll do my best to stay alive until you and the troops get there.”
The kid had left the key in the ignition. Rip started the engine, jammed the jeep into gear and peeled out, while Luc jumped back with a yelp. As Rip sped away, he was thankful heâd been paying attention when theyâd driven through the dark streets from the fort. Concentrating, he reversed those directions until he reached the main road that led to the interior of Benezet and the power plant.
Headlights split the darkness in front of him. Squinting, he could see a second set of headlights behind the first â Lucâs troop transports. At least they wouldnât be very far behind him.
Rip made a precipitous left turn in front of the first truck and drove onto the wide, empty highway. As he floored the jeep, he prayed Avery would still be alive when he reached the power plant.
Chapter 12
After bouncing around in the cargo area of the SUV for what felt like forever, Avery ached in places she didnât remember possessing. Breathing with tape over her mouth was no picnic either. But poor little Yvette was in far worse shape because on top of everything else, she cried uncontrollably the entire time. Probably over her brother. Maybe also out of fear, which Avery totally understood.
However, Avery herself was so upset over the three menâs callous shooting of Thierry and Roussellot, and angry at their treatment of the girl, that she didnât have room to be afraid. Sheâd figured out where they were going after the first hour. The only reason to drive so long was if they were headed to the power plant. Ripâs earlier words about controlling Benezet by controlling the power plant echoed in her mind. JB Pollendene wasnât going away without a fight.
Well, neither was she.
By inching carefully around, Avery got her restricted hands close enough to Yvetteâs mouth to touch the tape on her mouth. When the girl realized what Avery intended to do, she actually stopped crying. Averyâs fingers didnât want to cooperate at first, but she finally managed to grasp a corner of the tape and jerk.
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