Downswing by J J Anatoliy

Author:J J Anatoliy [Anatoliy, J J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781732102408
Publisher: J.J. Anatoliy
Published: 2018-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Community Cards

Three years later

Island of Lesbos, at what the locals fondly refer to as "To Treló Paláti"

Translation: The Crazy Palace

Emilia

"GET BACK HERE, FOX!"

I was breathing heavily as my recently cut hair whipped around my face. Running at full speed through the extravagant mansion we had settled in, I dashed to the doors of the front parlor, and ripped them open with all my strength.

"Oi!" Kiernan yelped, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation, along with the four other Irishmen that were currently gambling around the table at the center of the room. They admonished me in their thick accents, and I flipped them all off.

"Aren't you supposed to be training with Masamune and the Usami sisters right now?" I panted out, putting my hands on my hips and scowling at them.

"We were gettin' there, Foxy. I swear, we were only finishing up one more game." Kiernan replied sheepishly, the four men agreeing loudly.

"Oi, and aren't ye supposed ta be somewhere too, Foxy girl?" Connor, the youngest Irishman said, rolling his eyes at me.

"I'm the boss. I can do whatever my heart desires, you little shit." I spat back at him.

"EMILIA!"

At the exasperated yell that was swiftly coming down the stairs, I jumped, running back through the doors. I heard the Irishmen all bellow in laughter, and made a mental note to kick their asses in combat training later.

I made a mad dash again for the front door, and saw the man bounding down the stairs, chasing me. I yelped, detouring and dashing down the hallway leading to the kitchen. I burst through the doors, looking around frantically.

"Really, shef?" Jazz asked me, calling me "chief" in Albanian. I stared at her for a moment, tilting my head. The stove looked like a pasta sauce disaster had occurred, and seven bowls lined the counter, flour and who knew what else spread out all over the large island in the center of the kitchen.

"Jazz, for fuck's sake, you can not cook!" I stomped my foot in exasperation, throwing my arms up.

The small Albanian woman screwed up her face in a snarl, though the cook, Maya, a beautiful refugee we had taken in and hired, nodded emphatically behind her. Jazz's eyes suddenly filled with tears and she flung her small body down on the island, wailing.

"YOU ARE SO MEAN!" She wailed, crying loudly. Maya patted her back, muttering soothing words to her, even as her face reflected relief at the clearly overdue reality check.

"Emilia Fox, when I catch you, I am going to beat you senseless!"

At the roar that was hurriedly headed toward me, I bolted again, dashing through the side door that led outside. I heard Jazz's wails slowly dimming as I ran, dashing across the side of the yard where I heard swords clashing. Running towards the front of the house, I rounded the corner and saw Masamune, shirtless, clashing swords with two small Japanese women. Their movements were beautiful in their deadly precision as they fought, none of them giving an inch.

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