Page 43 of Sing For Us

“Hana got me a book called Fun and Useless Facts,” Oliver answers.

“They were not useless. You talked my fucking ear off. This should be a new torture method.” Emin is actually funny, now that I think about it. And he is loyal to Lana. Sara looks at me and nods. Good. The restraints are doing their job.

“Sara and Oliver, leave the room.” Once they are gone, I grab the small chair and position myself right next to Emin. Normally, I would feel a cold air graze my skin when I torture a person or the temperature would drop, but not with him. No. Lana’s protégée has a calming nature about him, and he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t struggle. He even looks comfortable.

That’s what you get for torturing a hired assassin—a trained one at that.

“First you are going to give me information.”

“What information?” he asks incredulously, his brows raised.

“How the fuck did Lana fool me?” Instead of protesting, Emin smirks at me, and if he could clap his hands together, he would. Why is he so gleeful?

He picks up on my confusion. “You are probably wondering why I’m so willing to tell you everything?”

“Yes, actually.”

“First of all, because she wants you to know. Second of all...” His smirk drops, and he looks at the ceiling, then back at me. “Because it might give you an insight into why she is grieving so much.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, you need to know. Lana is spiraling, and I need to protect her. I hope that after this, you’ll ease up on her.”

Chapter seventeen

Lana

Six years ago.

On paper it says that I returned from Switzerland because I graduated. That’s partially true. I graduated two months ago, but my travels led me to a small town in Switzerland itself. And now I am back in Sarajevo again. My dad hasn’t been able to work for a long time now—that’s why I have been doing his hits for three years now. I started doing his jobs when I was sixteen years old. What can I say? I am an overachiever.

My training began more than twelve years ago, at the ripe age of seven. It started with tae kwon do classes, and I haven’t looked back since. Baba and mama have checked in on me multiple times to see if I wanted to do what I do now. The option to leave and never look back has always been there, but it never crossed my mind. Whenever my parents were on a business trip or away with friends, I trained or did a job. It started small; a robbery here and there, and then it progressed to taking out very bad men and women. Luckily, I had Emin with me. His mama and my mama were friends.

Everything went amazing in my life, but then tragedy hit. When my mama died, my dad was heartbroken. And some time after her death, he got diagnosed with a brain tumor. It started as confusion, then it progressed into forgetting big things, but the straw that broke the camel’s back was when he almost failed a fairly simple hit.

After that, we decided that I would do all of his hits.

My dad was highly exclusive, so he didn’t have new hits every month, and that worked out perfectly for me. Between my schoolwork and trying to balance somewhat of a social and love life, it was pretty hectic. I never had any friends in college, and a boyfriend who understood my needs was out of the question. Because my work is peculiar, so is my taste in men and sex. My dark urges take my mind off of stress and performance anxiety. Not every boyfriend took my suggestions seriously, but I don’t mind. However, it would be nice to find someone who shares these passions.

“You are deep in your thoughts, Lana.” My dad’s voice takes me back to the present. I smile sweetly at him as I pour him a cup of coffee. He takes a sip and looks at me with narrowed eyes while his lips are curved slightly downward at the corners. His internal sadness for me is palpable, but I can’t understand why.

“Sorry, baba. What were you saying?” I ask him as I take a sip myself.

“You should go out tonight with Emin. He seems to be your only friend.”

“Gee,” I say as I grin at him. “Thanks for that, baba.”

“You know what I mean, sunce moje. Your mother and I had a friend years ago, and she was amazing.” I think my dad’s delusions are getting worse, because he keeps mentioning this ‘friend’ for the last couple of weeks. He talks about the friend as if she were real, but I have never met her. I also can’t seem to remember if my mother ever talked about their friend. He also refuses to tell me her name, but I digress. To make the most of the time I have left with my father, I set down my cup and squeeze his hand—an attempt to have him drop this topic.

“I don’t want to leave you, baba,” I tell him as I return to my cup and let go of his hand.

“Nonsense, you are going to have an amazing time. Emin is a real friend and you should live a little.” Before I can contradict any of his points, he continues speaking. “I’ll be here once you get back. Go. Out.” Even though almost all of his strength has left his body, he still has that strong tone of voice. His hopeful eyes and probably his wish to be alone for just one minute led me to agree with his sentiment—I have to go out once in a while.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go get ready and head for town,” I stand up and leave for my bedroom. “All of the numbers you need are on the fridge.”

“Just go, Lana.” I roll my eyes, but walk over and give him a tight hug, which he returns. This man is the only one who has ever loved me for who I am, and I am so grateful for him. He has taught me how to ride a bike and how to kill someone with precision and not a lot of fuss.

“I love you, baba.”