actually be true. He was in danger, and by being with him, so was Avery. But how the hell had the bastards found him so fast?
The police roared up at the same time he and Avery reached cover behind the table.
"Not a word," he cautioned in a low growl. "Let's just get back to the ship."
She nodded in silent agreement.
Unfortunately, they didn't make their exit from the parking lot unnoticed. With no less than four police cruisers on the scene, a cop stopped them and began asking questions in Spanish. To Rip's surprise, Avery quickly recovered her poise and answered with a calm, business-like tone. After three or four polite questions, the officer let them go.
A clearly agitated Williams, leaning on a cane, met them just inside the gangway. "What the hell were you doing on shore?" he demanded, his expression like a thunder cloud.
"Not now," Avery snapped, obviously not intimidated by the agent's bluster. "Mr. Brown needs to see Doctor Samuelson."
Head held high, she led the way to the elevator. Williams had no choice but to follow, though not happily.
Once inside, Williams scrutinized the scratch on Rip's arm. "Do you know how fucking lucky you were?"
"It's nothing," Rip muttered, but the other man ignored him.
"Maybe now you two idiots will take me seriously." Williams continued, still irate. "Wasn’t the shooting in Miami enough?"
Rip had no answer so he gave a half-shrug with his uninjured arm, while Avery gave him a questioning look.
"By the way, Davis contacted me about an hour ago. Seems your friend Luc DuBois never met up with the agents waiting for him at LA-X airport. Never claimed his luggage either."
"What do you mean?" Rip demanded, but the elevator door slid open and Williams clammed up. "Just a minute," he declared to Avery as he pulled Williams aside into the empty stairwell. "You're saying something happened to Luc?"
Williams looked at him like he was a simpleton and explained in a low tone. "Somebody besides the agency took DuBois out of the airport. Whether voluntarily or not, we have to assume he told them everything he knew about you and this operation."
"Luc would never... " Rip started to deny, when another terrible possibility struck him. "Are you telling me he was taken against his will?"
"We've found no evidence of foul play." The other man replied. "Yet."
Fear stabbed Rip in the gut. He couldn't believe for a moment that the man who'd been his most trusted assistant for over a year would purposely betray him. But the other scenario left him sickened with dread.
Avery, looking visibly shaken herself, reached for his hand. "Come on. Sick bay is just around the corner."
Swallowing down his growing anxiety, he let her lead him. Williams limped along behind them.
The doctor looked a bit perturbed at first, then alarmed as he cut away the remnants of Rip's T-shirt sleeve. The bullet had grazed a shallow four inch wound on the outside edge of his arm. Shaking his head, the doctor cleaned and bandaged the laceration and asked when Rip last had a tetanus shot. When Rip couldn’t recall, Dr. Samuelson gave him a stinging injection in his uninjured arm while Avery and Williams looked on. Then the doctor told him to change the dressing tomorrow and come back if it looked inflamed.
"Please, gentlemen," Samuelson said to both men. "Try to stay in one piece."
Back out in the empty corridor, Williams returned to dictatorial mode. "I talked to the Captain as soon as I heard from Davis. He agreed to let us remain on board until we reach Martinique, but we have to assume this cover is blown. That means absolutely no wandering around. Effective immediately you are both confined to quarters."
Avery's mouth flew open. "But -- but I have a job."
"Not for the next two days you don't." Williams retorted. "Too many people have seen the two of you together around the ship. That's how I knew you went ashore. Your roommate told me she saw you leaving."
"Crap," Avery muttered.
Rip's fear came thundering