Page 21 of Sing For Us

For the life of me, I can’t remember his name, not even his face all that well. But my fondness for him never wavered, and I am pretty sure I had a crush on him. We spent that one summer together, and it was amazing. I think I asked my parents a year after that if the boy and his mom were coming again, but they said that they wouldn’t. After that, I grew up and forgot about him.

To be young again without all this shit.

“Lana, do you have a minute?” Emin asks me from the doorway. I motion for him to come in. He stands before me with a piece of paper.

“What do you think this is?” I’m looking down at my shoes, not giving him any attention.

“A piece of paper, I guess?”

“It’s an open hit.” Not interested. I get up and walk past him to get a bottle of water.

“I don’t do open hits anymore.” Hell, I don’t even do personal hits anymore. Open hits are mostly, well, open, if the requester wants to get the job done quickly. The messiness is not important.

“I thought that it would be a nice way for you to get out of the house.”

“Emin,” I raise an eyebrow at him. “I’ll entertain this for just a minute. Who needs to be taken out?”

“A French bastard named Sebastian. He is a human trafficker and has started to become a nuisance”

“As all traffickers are.” He winks at me before he continues. Within my world, most assassins get money from legal businesses, but also from other illegal practices. Some of them deal with drugs or weapons. But never, ever, human trafficking. We are murderous bastards, but even we don’t cross that line. And if somebody does, taking them out would be a service to the world.

“He became sloppy, and now he is setting up base in Sarajevo.”

“Who requested it?” I take the papers from Emin and look at the fucker. He is your typical Frenchman, and he can fuck all the way off.

“The requester is the Minister of Security and, yes, the hit is open, but the word on the street is that he has also asked a big fish to take this fucker out.” I stop looking through papers, and slowly my eyes find Emin’s. He raises his right eyebrow and smiles wickedly.

I know who the big fish is. And I want to catch him.

“Do you know where Sebastian is?” I’m basically giddy, but I don’t show it. I can’t.

Emin crosses his arms. “One of our guys wanted to do the hit, and he gathered all the information beforehand.”

“I’ll do the hit tonight. He’ll probably be there as well.” I walk towards the room where we keep all of our gear, and gather what I need. My clothes, my weapons, and something that will be heavy to carry—restraint not to kill Noa.

“I think you need to clear out your mind before you go.” I whip my head around, and Emin has a concerned look on his face. The stuff I need is in my arms, and I stay firm on the ground. Keeping that guard up.

“Get out of my way.” I’m keeping my tone neutral, but the edge is there. I need him out of my way.

“Lana.”

“Emin,” I say incredulously. I ignore my friend and walk past him to my headquarters. Once I’m in my room, I get my shit together by getting in the mindset of the killer I am. I always crack my neck and take one good look in the mirror.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. The last time I did an open hit, my father was alive. But I can do this. I have to do this.

I have to kill Sebastian. And I have to kill Noa.

Chapter nine

Noa

My senses are tingling, and I am fucking elated. This is just the shit I needed. Some relief, and that relief is in the form of a French human trafficker.

“Adam is on overwatch, and the rest of the team is on standby. Over.” Hana confirms through my earpiece.

“Confirmed. Will check in once I’m in the house. Over.” Now it’s party time.

Normally, a man of this caliber would lay low and disguise his estate as a rundown building, but this motherfucker is sloppy. Fame and money cloud his judgment, and he let the power he thinks he has get a hold of him. There is a thin line between getting what you want and what you deserve.