Double Dealing: A Menage Romance(45)

Still, with Jordan there cheering me, her calm voice encouraging me while she counted off the repetitions of the dips, I pushed on, and by the end of the third lap, I was still on target. "Nine minutes even," Jordan said, her voice rising in excitement. "Come on Felix, I know you can do it. I believe in you."

Her words were a cooling balm to my aching chest and shoulders, and I pushed harder, my eyes focused on her to distract myself from the pain. I got through the twenty-five dips and ran to the main beam, knowing I had no seconds to spare. My fingers ached as I climbed, and I nearly slipped getting to the top. I grabbed the top and got up, gasping. "Twenty seconds!" Jordan called. "Hurry!"

Hurrying was the last thing I wanted to do, but the beam needed to be crossed. Trusting to habit, I stepped out, taking the curve as a way to wrap my feet around the surface instead of as a challenge to my balance. I was nearly three-quarters of the way across when my right foot slipped a bit, and my balance started to go. I got my left foot on the beam but there was no way I'd make the other platform safely. Instead, I pushed as hard as I could with my left foot, aiming with my hands to grab the wood of the far platform. I barely made contact, but it was enough to change the direction of my momentum, which is what I wanted. The rope dangling from underneath I grabbed with my thighs, letting go of the wood to supposedly grab the rope before sliding down nearly uncontrolled, impacting the dirt hard. My ankle rolled as I landed, and I groaned. "Time!"

"Eleven minutes, fifty-eight seconds," Jordan said. "You did it!"

Her elation was replaced a second later as she realized I was crumpled to the ground in pain, massaging my ankle. "What's wrong?"

"Just twisted it I think," I hissed. "Shouldn't have rushed so much. Had two whole seconds to spare."

"Then you know by the rules you lose," Francois said, coming over and offering his hand. "We can’t be injured in the course of our capers. But, since I want to hear Jordan play more than listen to you make your violin sound like a cat being skinned alive, I’ll leave the judgment to our beautiful lady here. Jordan? A win or a loss for Felix?"

"I call it a win," Jordan said. "Now, let's get you inside and get that ankle treated."

Leaning on Francois and Jordan, I hobbled inside, where Francois got me an ice pack. While I was icing my ankle, Charani came back from town. "What foolishness did you three get up to?" she asked when she saw my dusty pants and iced ankle. "No doubt showing off for your new love."

"Guilty as charged, but Francois did make a bet with me," I countered with a grin. "Come now, what would we be if we didn’t stand up to a good bet?"

"Do I even want to know how you got hurt?" she asked. "Or will I be upset that you nearly got yourself killed? Besides, isn't doing stupid physical stunts my son's job?"

"Mother . . .” Francois fumed. "It only happened a few times."

Jordan was about to ask what we were talking about when an unfamiliar car pulled into the backyard area of the house, and two men got out. One of them, a huge bulky man that I immediately pegged as North African, probably Lybian or Moroccan, took an immediate look around, security screaming from every unspoken word of his behavior. The other was indeterminate, he could have been any of two dozen different backgrounds. "Who’s this?"

"Stay here, I'll find out," Francois said, motioning for me to stay down. He went out into the yard, where he and the second of the two men, clearly the boss of the pair, started talking, too low for me to hear. The man pulled out a document, and Francois looked it over before staring at the man in shock, then crumpling the paper and throwing it in his chest.

I was on my feet in an instant, the pain in my ankle forgotten as the larger of the two men, obviously a bodyguard of some type, pulled a pistol from under his jacket and pointed it at Francois. "Stop!" I yelled, walking out of the house. My ankle was screaming at me, but there was no way I was going to show these men I was hobbled in any way. "What’s going on here?"

Francois was staring at the men, his face red with anger. "This . . . man claims that he has taken possession of our lands in Albania."

"What?" I asked, turning to him. “What are you talking about?”

The man, who I could now tell was certainly of mixed blood, most likely Albanian, Turkish, maybe some Arab, picked up the paper out of the dirt. "You are Felix Hardy?"

"Yes. You still haven't answered my question, and I don't exactly appreciate your friend there pulling a pistol. Put it away." The bodyguard looked to his boss, who nodded. "Now, how can I help you?"

"I am . . . well, you can call me Al," the boss said, clearly using a false name. "I represent a group of investors who look for international real estate bargains and other areas of profit. Recently, we took possession of a property, just north of the city of Durres, Albania. It was a governmental repossession, and my group has requested that I be the one to notify you of the situation. Here, the papers are all in order."

He handed me the crumpled sheets, and I looked them over. Unfortunately, the political pressures of the recent months had made things chaotic in Albania. Refugees, Greek banks, and just in general the economy of the European Union meant that it was not very well settled. According to the papers, the Albanian government had implemented a new tax, and that my family's property had not paid it. Swooping in, these vultures had paid the tax and had placed a lien on the property. With what were obviously bribes and the assistance of some corrupt officials, they now had a legal claim to the property. It was one of the advantages and disadvantages of living in Southeastern Europe. Corruption meant that you could get away with a lot. But it could bite you in the ass very quickly if you were on the wrong end of things.