by Sam JD Hunt
Chapter Six
The week after Amber arrived, I was fast asleep on Nate’s chest, his arms wrapped around my back, when I awoke to the vibration of a phone. Rex moved to grab his phone from the nightstand—his back was against me as he rolled over to answer the call.
“Shit, yeah, let them in—we don’t have much of a choice. Keep your eyes out for anyone else, detain late-comers at the gate.” He paused, I could hear a male voice on the other end, but not well enough to make out what he was saying. “Don’t worry, Stan, I’ll deal with it. Just keep your eyes peeled for any more trouble.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I turned on the bedside lamp.
“Um, well, nothing probably,” Rex answered, pulling on a pair of worn jeans, “just some complications from my past. Will you wake sleeping beauty up there and tell him that General Nelson and the boys are here, he’ll know what to do.”
I nodded, afraid. Rex’s past doing classified government work with the DEA and other organizations battling drug cartels in Colombia was something that didn’t seem to ever fully go away, despite his retirement from active duty service. He slipped a shirt on and stepped into his unlaced Converse shoes.
“It’s okay, Penny, don’t give me that look. They probably want me to stitch up a bullet wound or something like that. They can’t take him to the hospital, too many questions, so they brought him here. In fact, I might need you. Can you get dressed and meet me in the medical room?”
Rex had a fully stocked mini-emergency room in the house. I nodded again, shaking the sleep off as I scurried to get up. I woke Nate as Rex left the room. Nate was more annoyed than alarmed.
“Those fucking bastards. They need to leave Rex out of it. Where’s their damn doctor? Rex is out, a civilian, but they keep doing this.”
Nate dressed quickly, slipping a handgun into the back of his jeans as he pointed to our master closet. “I’ll be in there, it’s better not to show our whole hand in case of trouble.”
Hidden in all of our closets were safe rooms, very well armed safe rooms. We hadn’t had much trouble, but Rex’s special ops past as well as Nate’s prior drug addiction caused us to live at a higher state of awareness than most.
“Don’t mention me at all,” he said, making sure I understood.
“I’ve been here a year, this has never happened since I’ve been—”
Nate interrupted me with the raise of his hand. “It’s happened twice, Pen, once when you went back to Vegas to get your visa, and then last month but you slept through it, it was just a surface wound. Stay here unless Rex tells you otherwise.” With a quick kiss, he shut the closet door.
I felt abandoned and confused. If Nate got to hide, why didn’t I? I could hear them in the main part of the house, Rex speaking a mixture of English and Spanish to loud, agitated voices. He sounded urgent—I put my ear up to the door to listen, debating whether I should grab one of the guns in the safe under the bed. Nate wouldn’t have left me unguarded if I were in danger, I finally decided, trying to make out the voices outside the room. “Penny!” I heard Rex yell. “I need you.”
I took a deep breath and walked out into the bright living room. There was a blanketed figure lying on a board, it looked to be made from a wooden door, carried by two men. Rex pointed down the hall toward the medical room.
“That way,” he told the two men as we followed behind.
A bearded man was next to Rex—he was in uniform, but not one I recognized. They spoke in what seemed like cordial conversational Spanish as we walked, until about halfway in Rex switched to English.
“She’s my nurse, I’ll need her help,” he said, gesturing to me.
“What happened to Maria?” the uniformed man asked.
“Penny, this is General Nelson, we go way back,” he explained to me before answering the man. “I had to fire Maria, unfortunately. She betrayed me. But, Penny here is good. Your guy is in capable hands.”
The man, General Nelson, looked to me with a smirk, and then back to Rex. “She came out of your bedroom, Colonel,” he said with a raised eyebrow. Rex chuckled and nudged the man like old buddies.
“Fringe benefits,” Rex said with a grin.
Rex walked ahead and opened the secured door to his medical room with a code and his fingerprint. I followed behind dumbfounded. He’d told this strange Colombian General that I was his nurse—I knew nothing about nursing. Rex taught me basic survival medicine—jungle trauma type stuff, but that was the extent of my medical knowledge. I was also confused by the relationship Rex had with these men—the mood was tense, I could feel it, but on the surface, they were acting like old friends. Clearly there was some degree of danger or Nate wouldn’t be in the safe room with weapons at the ready.
The patient was slid onto a gurney. He was conscious, but in pain and mumbling—in English. I guessed he was an American, and he was dressed in plain clothes rather than a uniform. There was a dark, crimson stain on the side of his white t-shirt, and both of his hands clasped it. Rex was washing his hands in the sink, and nodded for me to do the same. General Nelson was watching me curiously as I hurried to the sink.
“Penny’s new, she’s still learning, General.”
The man grinned wide and answered, “I’m sure you’ll teach her well, Colonel.”
Scrubbed and gloved, Rex pulled back the man’s shirt as he groaned. “Dirty blade?” Rex asked the four men milling at the side of the room. They were also dressed in plain clothes.
“Yes, sir,” answered one of them, a tall redhead, “the motherfuckers stabbed—”
He was interrupted by the clearing of the General’s throat and a head nod toward me.
“Oh, sorry sirs and ma’am for my language. Yes, Colonel, it appeared to be a homemade shank.”
Rex injected the man’s side with a syringe of painkiller as he examined the wound.
“We can all handle some colorful language, including my nurse, I assure you. It’s jagged and dirty, but not serious.” Rex looked to me. “Penny, grab some gauze, bandages, penicillin, and a shitload of those wound care packets for them to take.”
He turned his attention directly to the patient, explaining to the moaning man, “I’ll give you two more of these shots of numbing stuff, but no oral painkillers are leaving this room, understand? Keep it clean and dry—you’ll be fine. Take the pills Penny gives you, and try to lie low until it’s healed.”
It didn’t take Rex long to stitch up and dress the wound. As the men carried the patient out and we were alone with the General, Rex’s demeanor changed.
“What the fuck, Pedro? You said last time was it! A fucking minor knife wound? That’s bullshit—this isn’t my life anymore. Stop dragging me back in or I’ll have to talk to—”
General Nelson held up his hand for Rex to stop, and looked to me, then back at Rex. “I’m sorry Rex—this is the last time. This one, this boy…” he looked to me again before finishing in a whisper, “he is personally very special to me. He will be okay?”
Rex nodded, placing his hand on the General’s forearm. “Yes, sir, he’ll be fine.” The General turned to leave as I cleaned up the bloody mess on the gurney. “If you love him, send him home,” Rex said quietly to the departing man’s back.
“I wish I could, Rex,” the General said regretfully as he left the room.
It was over an hour before the men were gone, the medical room cleaned up, and we were back with Nate in bed.
“No trouble?” Nate asked, his cheek on Rex’s chest, their legs intertwined. I was on the other side, my sleepy body nestled up to Rex.
“No, not this time,” Rex said quietly, his fingertips dancing languidly down Nate’s back. “The General promised me they wouldn’t intrude on me again.”
Nate sighed and said, “He’s said that before. What happens when they come back again?” Rex took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
“Then we refuse, and deal with the fallout.”
The word “fallout” made me shudder. I di
dn’t think these men would be easily dissuaded.
*****
Despite Rex’s confidence in his agreement with General Nelson, it wasn’t long before it happened again. The following week we were once again awakened by Stan at the front gate, but this time was different. I shook as Rex told Stan to tell them no, send them away. Several tense moments passed as we dressed, preparing to defend our compound with guns if we had to.
“If this get tense, Princess, take Amber and lock yourselves in the safe room,” Rex commanded, his fingers on his cellphone, calling Stan at the gate, I presumed.
But Rex wasn’t talking to Stan. “You promised me Pedro,” he began, “and yet they’re at my door again.”
He’d called General Nelson, and I prayed for a peaceful resolution. Rex went fluidly from English to Spanish, the tension in his shoulders relaxing as his tone became less adversarial. He hung up several minutes later and looked over at us.
“Misunderstanding, I think. The General says he didn’t tell them to come here, he’ll tell them to go.”
A grim thought haunted me. “Do they have someone out there dying?”
“No, Penny, they have a doctor in the village the General has contracted with. I’m going to head to the gate and just smooth it over. Be on guard, but I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. These guys will obey Pedro—he runs the whole organization out here.”
Stan called again minutes later, and Rex’s face drained of its golden color as he listened to the phone. “He said what?” Rex snapped into the phone. “Tell me exactly what the guys said this man told them.” Rex’s hand shook as he listened, and I heard him force out the words, “Send them in.”
Nate walked over, as confused as I was. “Rex, what the hell? I thought you said it was resolved. What’s going on?”
Rex shook his head, not making eye contact with either of us. “I’m not sure,” he said flatly as he walked toward the front door.
Seconds later, the men burst in. There were five of them, bearded, tattooed, and gruff. They reminded me of the special ops friends of Rex who’d once rescued me from Rex’s ex-wife’s house. She’d tried to kill Rex, and me, and I’d shot her right before we were rescued.
Rex locked eyes with one of them and said, “Monk, it can’t be him. He’s dead! I watched him die, for fuck’s sake.”
The guy Rex called Monk became agitated, pulling back a heavy cloth from the man they carried in on makeshift cot. “You fucking tell me, Rex! He pulled up to our safe house, knew the code and everything. They could tell he was one of us. I know the name, he’s like a legend, but I’ve never seen him before. He said the street soldier thugs had shot him in a random exchange of fire. ‘Get the Doc, get Rex. Tell him it’s Luther.’ That was the last thing he said to me before he passed out.”
Nate’s arms wrapped around me, instinctively shielding me from any potential danger. Something big was happening, and we were as powerless as we were confused. Rex’s knees buckled as he looked into the man’s face.
“Get him inside, now! Penny, I need you. Nate, you too. I know you hate blood, and I’m not a surgeon, but he won’t make it into town. I can’t let him die on me again.”
Repairing the bullet wound took two hours. The bleeding would stop, then gush again. Rex kept Nate busy setting up an area to take blood from the men there, shouting questions about blood type. He knew the man we were fighting to save—they’d been connected once, I could tell.
“Who is he?” I asked as he was closing up the wound, his hands tired, his forehead glistening with sweat.
“A ghost,” he answered absently. “I couldn’t save him once, and I’m not sure I can now. I’ve done what I can—now we wait.”
“I’m keeping him here,” he told the waiting men. “He’ll die if you try to move him. I’ll tell the General, but don’t tell anybody what happened tonight—are we clear?” They nodded, gathering their things to go.
“It’s him isn’t it?” Monk asked as they made their way to the door. Rex nodded, turning back to care for his patient.
“His vital signs are good, right Rex?” I asked, staring at the machines in the brightly lit, windowless medical room. I couldn’t believe I was starting to learn how to read the cryptic machines.
“He’s stable. You kicked ass tonight, Penny. I’m impressed as hell. You too, Nate—we couldn’t have tried any harder. It’s in God’s hands now. I’m going to sleep in here next to him.”
Nate rolled a spare cot over for Rex, and as I went to get him a pillow and blanket, I heard Nate ask who the man was.
“We were…uh, best friends, like brothers. We fought here side by side—but he was shot by a cartel soldier during a raid one night. I tried to save him but they hauled me away. They left him there to die—alone.”
I slept in Nate’s arms that night, missing the presence of Rex in our bed. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be gone—he was often in the jungle teaching basic survival to a group of recovering addicts for a week at a time—but this was different. I was unsettled, nervous. The arrival of this injured man from Rex’s past shook me, causing me to jump every time the rain hit the window that night. When I finally slid into a restless sleep, I dreamed of a dark man with pale green eyes calling Nate, trying to pull him from my arms. I clung closer to Nate, his reassuring whisper in my ear saying, “Shh, babe, you’re having a bad dream, I’m right here.”
I was up early the next morning—unable to shake the unsettled feeling left by my dream. I slipped out of bed and made coffee for Rex. The door to the medical room wasn’t locked, and Rex was asleep when I entered. The patient, the one Rex referred to as Luther, was unconscious. I set the coffee down and turned to leave.
“Penny, come lie with me, I missed you.” Rex’s deep baritone yawned from the small cot. I stepped out of my flip-flops and crawled under the blanket next to Rex.
“I missed you too,” I said with a kiss to his warm, scruffy cheek. He was fully clothed, but his bare feet rubbed against mine. “I had a bad dream—a dark man tried to take Nate away from us.” His palm slid across my cheek.
“I wouldn’t let that happen, I love Nate,” Rex answered with a yawn as he faded back into sleep.
Chapter Seven
Rex rarely left his patient’s side, even after Rex and Nate moved Luther into a regular room the following week. He was healing well, and early one afternoon Rex lessened the medication flowing to him through the IV.
“He’s going to be fine,” Rex said with a relieved sigh, his fingertips floating over the man’s forehead. “He’ll wake up soon—as soon as the morphine wears off.”
Nate reached over and wrapped his arm around Rex’s waist possessively, his eyes fixated on where Rex’s fingers touched the man’s face. I was relieved to not be the only one jealous of someone Rex cared about, someone who had known him far longer than we had.
Rex pulled his fingers back, suddenly aware that we were watching him.
“Can one of you sit with him? I’m going to grab a quick shower, and I don’t want him to wake up alone,” Rex said to me, the words pregnant with meaning.
“Sure,” I nodded, “let me grab my Kindle and I’ll read.”
After a quick kiss to me, and an even quicker peck on Nate’s cheek, Rex left. He was rattled, unsettled, and nervous around the unconscious Luther. I wondered what their dynamic would be when the patient was awake.
“I need to shower too, I’ll be back…” Nate said with a growl, his tongue swiping across his lips.
“Save some for me,” I teased, shooing him to go.
“He might need help soaping up,” Nate winked before leaving me alone with Luther.
Luther was propped up on pillows, his black hair in stark contrast to the crisp white pillowcase. The man’s skin was flawless, a light shade of alabaster peppered by the dark halo of a sparse stubble. I wasn’t sure I liked this intruder into my life, but there was no denying that he was beautiful. His hair was so dark, so silky, in contrast to his flawless
skin that I couldn’t help but think that he was what a fallen angel must have looked like. Although leaner than Rex, he was as muscled and toned—the body Michelangelo would have sculpted if given the chance. Luther had as much ink as Rex, and various symbols and words in Latin were tattooed across his satiny skin. Like Rex, much of his body art was religious—but Rex’s was very Catholic, whereas Luther’s appeared pagan to me, Celtic words and images graced his skin, flowing together into a synergy of meaning that I didn’t understand. There was one Christian tattoo across his chest—a large cross with a circle. I’d seen the symbol before, and knew it was ancient, but had no idea what the markings on this unique looking man symbolized.
Luther was shirtless—a loose sheet was draped over him so that Rex could monitor the wires and tubes hooked into him, as well as change the dressing on the large incision across his abdomen. The sheet shifted as his chest rose and fell with his labored breathing. Over the next half an hour, his wounded body started the process of waking up. His eyelids twitched, his head moved—he was coming out of the drug-induced sleep he’d been in. Luther’s arm twitched hard, so I moved closer to check the IV sticking into the back of his hand to make sure it wasn’t going to come loose. The sheet slid lower as he shook, revealing the faint peek of dark hair below the perfect V of his torso. I’d been there during the surgery and after, handing instruments to Rex, even using my pinkie to stop the blood flow of an artery at one point, and I knew the man was completely naked underneath the sheet. Despite an innate urge to peek underneath, I prayed the sheet didn’t drift any lower. I didn’t want to have to reach there to pull it up.
Earlier that morning, I’d picked a flower to brighten up Luther’s room. I wasn’t into gardening, but in the side yard, near the tennis courts, bloomed orchids the color of Easter, a unique shade of lavender, so delicate that they could break your heart. When his body stilled, I went over to the side table to change the water, but the sound almost caused me to crash the cut crystal vase to the floor.
