Taken by Two

by Sam J. D. Hunt

  “Okay, Rex, Rodrigo has the van loaded with the gear, and the new recruits are headed to base camp. Kick ass and take names, man.” Rex pulled on his heavy backpack and walked toward the door as we followed. “Have fun, my babies, but her virgin ass remains untouched, promise?” Nate nodded with a smirk. Rex’s wide palm cupped the side of my face as he leaned in for one last kiss on my forehead. I expected him to give Nate his standard rustling of the hair and pat on the back, but instead he repeated the exact same gesture with Nate—palm of his hand to the side of Nate’s angelic face, a quick peck of a kiss on his flawless forehead. Before we could process what just happened, he was gone.

  We stared at the closed door for several long minutes. Nate eventually spoke, his fingers still on his forehead in the place Rex’s lips had been. “Holy shit, did that just happen?” he asked incredulously. I nodded, unable to speak. “I’m never washing my forehead again,” he joked.

  Nate and I spent the week having sex, playing Xbox, having more sex, and training for the new badass-Penelope that the men wanted me to be. I was bruised from Nate trying to teach me how to escape from restraints. Unlike the shooting, I wasn’t a natural at it in any way. Rex called twice, and it sounded like his week was going smoothly, without the complications I caused during his last survival course.

  But, by the sixth day, I was bored. I decided to spend some energy preparing for Rex’s return—I talked Maria into making his favorite foods, and I wanted to show off what I’d learned in his absence. As I looked through my outfits, I found the perfect dress to wear for him. Rex loved my curves to be wrapped in soft, billowy fabrics, so a gorgeous emerald green silk gown would be perfect. Except…it washed out my pale skin. With an idea in my impulsive head, I searched the expansive house until I found Nate.

  “I need you to take me into town—I want to buy some makeup for Rex’s welcome home.”

  He stared at me—my attempt at sounding casual didn’t work.

  He shook his head slowly from side to side. “No way—you can’t leave the compound.”

  “Ugh!” I stomped my foot like a toddler. “Why?” I whined.

  “You can’t be recognized.”

  “Coolio—we’ll disguise me. C’mon, please?” I tried to work the pouty lips on him.

  “Penny,” he sighed, “Rex will kill me.”

  “He won’t know. I’m going crazy in the house! You both said I’m not a prisoner—I live here. I can leave here as I please, Rex said so himself.”

  “I’ll go get you makeup, babe. The village isn’t very big, there aren’t many choices anyway.”

  “No, I want to pick it out. If you won’t take me, I’ll go alone.” I crossed my arms. I meant it—I was getting out of the house for a few hours, no matter what.

  “Penny, you’re determined to get me into a lot of trouble. Come on, let’s find a hat. I think the gardener is small; his clothes might fit you. Keep that blonde mane of hair under the hat, and don’t take off the sunglasses.”

  Half an hour later, with my disguise in place, Nate drove us to town in a pickup truck used by the landscapers. The village was small—I’d never seen anything like it. There were fruit stalls, vegetable vendors, a man selling live chickens, and a few small mom and pop type shops littering a dusty main road. “This is it?” I asked incredulously. “Yeah, we live out pretty remote, but it’s not that far to Medellin. That’s where the plane is, and if we need more supplies than the town can provide, that’s where we head. We also order stuff—delivery is pretty good. Your clothes came from Bogotá pretty quickly.”

  We parked the truck along the side of the road and walked along a dirt path toward a small drugstore. “This is it, babe—all the makeup in the village.” We wandered the dusty store, the young woman behind the counter addressing Nate by name in English. “Juana, this is my cousin, James. Oh yeah, he’s here to go to Rex’s survival trek. Listen, we want to buy some cosmetics for a costume thing we’re having.” She smiled wide at Nate and scurried over, excited to have his attention and completely ignoring me. I pointed to a few things, and within fifteen minutes we were leaving the small shop with a paper sack full of drugstore makeup. I’d never been so excited about getting a ten dollar eyeliner in my life. In fact, I’d never actually worn a ten-dollar eyeliner.

  “Happy now?” He slipped the paper sack into his rucksack. “Yes,” I nodded, leaning up to kiss him before he held his hand up to stop me. “Whoa, cousin James,” he reminded me. “Oops,” I giggled. “Let’s get some fruit salad,” he said, guiding me across the street to a fruit stand. “That sounds too healthy,” I moaned—I liked junk food. “Not this, you’ll see.”

  “Do you speak much Spanish?”

  “No, a few words here and there I’ve picked up. Rex is fluent, though.”

  We walked up to the rickety wooden fruit stall. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to eat the food there. “Dos ensaladas de frutes, por favor,” he said to the vendor. The man put two large scoops of ice cream in two Styrofoam bowls, covered them in cream, added chopped fruit, and finished the concoction with some sort of creamy cheese. He put a plastic spoon in each and, after Nate paid for them, handed them to us. I was skeptical, but the treat was delicious. “I’d eat this every day,” I raved. “See? I’ll confess I’m not a huge fan of Colombian food, but there are some gems.” I took a big bite, and confessed, “I guess I expected tacos, margaritas, tortillas, and—”

  “Penny, you do realize that Colombia is not in Mexico, right?”

  “Yes, it’s just—I guess I’m not very well traveled when it comes to Central or South America. I’ve been to Europe, but my parents usually left me with nannies when they traveled.”

  “I remember your mom,” Nate said, “she seemed like a decent lady. I’m sorry you lost her so young.”

  “Me too,” I said with sadness. “Mom was amazing, but my father never really seemed to have much use for me, and as she got weaker with illness, he had less and less use for her, too.”

  “That’s horrible. Listen, Penny, I don’t want to go into it here, but there’s stuff about your father that you’ll find out that will shock you. His business…Well, I’ll just say he’s involved in some pretty shady stuff.”

  “Is that why someone wanted me kidnapped and killed?” I asked him pointedly.

  “Yes. I don’t know the details, but I’m sure it’s tied into your father.”

  We walked along the dusty road, eating our fruit salads and watching the kids play in the street. “What else is there to do here in the village,” I asked, kicking a rock out of my path. “Well, there’s a fight club up the hill.”

  “A what? Like in the movie?” I was shocked.

  “No, it’s more like a boxing gym, but they have a ring where guys will sometimes fight. The locals place bets, it’s great practice—and you’ll need practice soon.”

  “I’m not fighting anyone, Nathaniel, no fucking way.”

  He laughed and patted me on the shoulder. “No, cousin, of course not yet. I was teasing. Not as a boy, anyway. I wouldn’t mind getting a round or two in before we go back, though.”

  I shook my head. “No, that’s a really bad idea. Let’s go on back…”

  He grabbed my arm and tugged me to the end of the street, through a run-down fence, and down a long path strewn with garbage. At the end, a large metal building sat. It looked more like a massive industrial storage facility than a gym to me. “So you train here?” I asked nervously. “I’ve done some training with these guys, but I mostly come here to practice. A few quick rounds of bareknuckle, and back we go.”

  He knocked on the heavy metal door, and when a large man answered, he gave a password and we were allowed in. The place was hot—hot, wet, and reeked of sweat. I had to cover my nose to avoid vomiting. Nate pointed to a folding metal chair at the side of an elevated boxing ring surrounded by a metal wire fence. “Wait there,” he instructed.

  Nate walked over and talked to a skinny man who seemed to be in charge, who pointed
to another man about Nate’s size who was working out on a shredded punching bag hung from the ceiling with a chain. Nate nodded, and began to undress. My hand was still over my nose—the stench of the place causing the cream from the fruit salad in my stomach to churn.

  A group of men, most dressed like cowboys and smoking cigarettes, gathered around the ring where Nate, stripped down to a pair of white boxer-briefs, and the other man, in a dingy pair of briefs that appeared to not have been washed in decades, prepared for their fight.

  The men placed their bets with a smoking man at a cash window, and stood around the ring. Nate and the man began to box, bare fisted, which quickly turned to kicking as well in some sort of mixed martial arts type sport. The man, who the spectators called Tito, got a good kick into Nate’s face, and his nose bled as they continued to fight. The sight of bright red blood flowing down Nate’s perfectly chiseled face upset me, and I worried about our safety as the men became louder and more aggressive.

  The fight seemed to me to go on forever, with Nate emerging as the superior fighter. Tito flailed, and threw constant kicks and punches, but Nate was more of a tactician and waited to get the most impact from his efforts. As the fight drug on, Tito was visibly tiring. The throng of men howled and jeered, shouting at Tito—they’d bet on him and weren’t happy about losing. I stood up from the metal chair as the men got more animated and angrier. I crept to the door and stood facing the ring. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up even though it was steamily hot in the gym. We were in danger, and I was ready to run. If I had a cell phone, I’d have called Rex for help.

  Nate’s designer underwear was coated with blood, but it was Tito’s blood. With a solid hit to his nose, the man fell and didn’t get up. I was relieved; it was nearly over. Until—another man walked into the ring. Fully clothed, wearing heavy cowboy boots, he swung at Nate, hitting him hard across the cheek, blood spurting from the cut. The gang of men didn’t care about the rules—they were going to beat the shit out of the rich white American. I screamed for Nate, begged them to stop, but the fight continued. Nate was holding his own, but I was horrified of what would happen if Tito stood up.

  Someone suddenly grabbed my behind roughly, and I turned around and swung, my fist landing in what felt like iron. “I’d know that bodacious ass anywhere, Princess,” the low baritone of Rex purred in my ear. “Oh my God, Rex, I’m so glad you’re here!” I’d never been so relieved in my life. “Uh huh, you won’t be glad when I spank your ass red-raw later. What the fuck were you thinking!” His eyes were dark, ominous—his jaw set in a hard line—he was pissed. “Be angry, do whatever, but please save Nate. They are cheating! They added a second fighter—look, the new guy is wearing shoes!”

  Rex looked around me toward the ring, his face showing no emotion. Nate looked over and saw him, nodded to Rex as the blood from his cheek flowed. Rex nodded back and walked over to the cashier’s window. “What are you doing? Will that guy stop the fight?” I chased after him. “I’m going to place a bet, make a few pesos, baby.” Tears flowed down my cheeks. “You’d bet against Nate?” I couldn’t believe this was the man I thought I loved, betraying the other man I loved.

  Rex placed his bet in Spanish and stood by my side, his arm forced around my waist despite my resistance. “I told you, Princess, I don’t rescue people. This isn’t my fault—you two did this. Doesn’t have a fucking thing to do with me.”

  He stood there stoically, holding me as I struggled to squirm out of his arms. He repulsed me at the moment—I didn’t know who he was. He ignored me and watched the fight. As I’d feared, Tito stood up.

  Nate fought both men, but the tide had changed. He was on fire, unstoppable. “Oh my God! He’s so good!” Rex let a tiny grin creep to the side of his mouth before giving me a quick squeeze. “Like Mark Twain said, ‘It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.’ Nathaniel Slater is fucking full of fight, sweetheart. So are you, so am I. Those two other guys? They’re tired, weak.”

  The crowd jeered and eventually sat down in disgust as both of their men were knocked out by Nate. The manager of the gym walked into the ring, lifting Nate’s hand to pronounce him the winner, and handing him a towel to wipe the blood. Nate dressed and walked toward us, his eyes anxiously on Rex. “Man, I–I fucked up,” he said, waving his arms before raking his hands through his hair. “You fucked up big time. Let me collect our winnings, and we’ll go.”

  After Rex left the window, shoving a wad of bills in his pocket, the throng of men crept over, angry and ready to start trouble, until Rex held up a gun and spoke to them in Spanish, pointing toward the door. They didn’t move as we left the gym. The minute the door closed, Rex and Nate broke into a run, Rex picking me up when I couldn’t keep up.

  We made it to the truck. Rex’s dark van, the one I’d been taken from the airport to the compound in, was parked behind it with Rex’s driver idling the engine. “Get in,” he screamed as the sliding door slid open. Nate and I jumped in, with Rex behind us slamming the door closed. He tapped the glass to tell the driver to go.

  “I can’t deal with you two right now—if I do, I’ll fucking strangle you both. I have to get back to the jungle,” he said through gritted teeth, not making eye contact with either of us. I held a towel to Nate’s bleeding face, trying to calm myself down. I knew this was my fault—me and my damn makeup.

  “How’d you know?” Nate asked, less afraid of Rex than I was.

  Rex didn’t look at him, but eventually answered, “DEA buddy of mine saw you two in town and called me. You’re fucking lucky I had a signal.”

  “I could have handled Tito and Deke,” Nate said defiantly.

  The van was silent until we pulled into the tall walls of the compound, the security staff at the gate waving us in. Rex knocked on the glass, and the driver lowered it. “Tell them we need a couple of guys to go get the gardener’s truck from town.”

  We left the van, Rex telling his driver he needed to leave for the jungle again as soon as he stitched Nate up.

  “Wait, stitches?” I shouted to Rex’s back as I followed him inside. “Shouldn’t we go to a hospital, an ER, for that?”

  Both men ignored me as we followed Rex through the house. At a far wing, he stopped at a heavy metal door, armed with a keypad and a small screen. He held his hand up to the screen, and when it beeped, he entered a code—his keystrokes shielded by his other hand. The heavy door slid open.

  Inside, there was a brightly lit, windowless medical room. There were two gurneys, and the walls were lined with locked cabinets and medical equipment. “Welcome to the emergency room on King Rex Island,” he said sarcastically. Nate hopped up onto one of the tables as if he’d been in this room many times before. Rex ignored me, walking over to a sink to scrub his hands. “It’s on his face—should we get a plastic surgeon?” I once had a similar cut from a gymnastics fall and my parents went berserk about scarring. “What the fuck planet do you live on, Penelope? Go play with your makeup while the men get shit done,” Rex said as he pulled on latex gloves. His words stung—I understood his anger at me, but I didn’t know how to make it better. I slumped into a chair in the corner. Nate looked over at me and mouthed the words, “It’s okay.” I suspected he’d dealt with a much-angrier Rex before.

  “Okay, dude, this isn’t going to feel great, but once it’s numb, I’ll sew you up. I’m going to give Penny only enough codeine to get you through until I get back.”

  “No meds, no numbing.”

  “Nate, I appreciate that, I do.” Rex’s voice was soft, loving again. “The shot is just some lidocaine, it’s not addictive. You can do over the counter Motrin after if you’d rather not risk opiates.”

  “Just the numbing shot, then, if you think it’s okay—if not, I’ll take the pain. But nothing after, no pills.”

  Rex nodded as he swabbed Nate’s cheek with an alcohol swab, Nate grimacing from the sting. “I’d rather have you still when I sew—I’d hate to mar
that pretty-boy skin,” Rex said as he raised the needle. Nate showed no sign of pain as Rex gave the injection.

  After Nate was numb, it took only minutes for Rex to have him sewed up. “Keep it clean and dry, and use this ointment. Your face will be fine—the rest of you maybe not so much when I get back from the jungle.” He pulled off the gloves, tossed them in a stainless steel garbage bin, and gestured for us to leave.

  We stood in the main living room waiting for Rex. He eventually emerged from the medical room and walked past us without a word. With a slam of the front door, he was gone. I looked to Nate, battered, bruised, and stitched. “He’s so mad—he’s never going to forgive me,” I cried to Nate, who held me as we walked back to his bedroom. “He gets that way—believe me, Pen, I’ve done far worse things to make him much madder than this. It’ll pass, just weather the storm.”

  Later that evening, with no word from Rex, I sat out by the pool having dinner with Nate. “How’s the face?” I asked, sipping a glass of chilled white wine as Maria cleared the dishes. “Hurts, but my whole body aches. The sign of a great fight.”