“The diner… the diner… the diner…”
I didn’t show it to M, but I was freaked the fuck out. What did Belmin mean bythe diner? Marco has given me an inclination of what the diner is truly about, and I’m choosing to eliminate that information from me.
It’s fucking hard, though.
It’s like my old life is taking over again, and I don’t know how to feel about that. I have done everything in my power to erase all traces of what I have been taught and who I was. Yet, those attempts seem fruitless right now.
A couple of days after the murder of Belmin, I called Emin and asked him if something was happening in the diner, and he said that everything was fine.
He also asked me to pick up his hens tomorrow, which is February second. He has been dealing with those hens for a couple of months, and I’m so happy that he is finally getting them. I got him his first batch, now he’s getting the second.
“Hi, Lana,” Emin says as he approaches me with a smile.
“Hi, Emin. How have you been?”
“Good. Setting everything up for my hens. My garden is finally ready to welcome them. Oh, I almost forgot.” He takes his phone out and shows me some pictures of his garden. “Here is where the rooster will go if he misbehaves around the rest of the coop.” He points toward a place near his flowers.
I look at him, and he smiles.
“You joker. You know what? What if you take the hens? I know a great farm where there are a lot more chickens, and they need a rooster.”
“Really? Are you sure?” I smile reassuringly. This is another round of me picking up hens for Emin, and I am happy to do so.
“Of course! At what time do you want me to pick them up?”
“I have a very short shift at the hotel that starts at one p.m., why?”
“Can you leave by 2 p.m.? There is quite a drive, and I want them home as soon as possible.”
“I’ll probably be done by then. Thank you for talking to me.” He hugs me, and he wants me to high-five him, and I do.
“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye, Lana!”
“Bye, Emin!”
I go home and dive straight into bed, tomorrow is going to be a long day. M has graciously offered to bring me to the hotel, and I’m grateful. Even though he is the epitome of dangerous, I still crave him.
And I’m happy that I’m going to see him.
39
M“We are en route to the park and will be staking out the territory.”
“Copy. I’ll be in my apartment after I drop off Lana. See you two soon,” I tell Oliver as I hang up the phone. In about five minutes, I’m going to pick up Lana from her shitty apartment and drive her to her gig at the hotel.
Today is also the day for the big calamity—Marco’s downfall.
It’s a misconception that an assassination of someone could be carried out in one week. Those things are only realistic in movies, but in real life? Please don’t count on it. If you don’t want any blood on your hands and the law on your fucking ass, you do it as stealthily as you can. And that means planning, calculating, and the most infuriating thing of all: waiting.
I have taught myself that good things come to those who are patient.
After I kill the bastard, I can finally close off this hit and tell the fucker who sent me the request that I succeeded. The reason I took this on was, first of all, the money: twenty-five million euros. Yet there is another, more sinister reason—I want to be the one to take this pedophile down. I want to be able to look him in the eye and murder him.
It will be prolonged, which is odd for me. Usually, stealth would define me as a sick bastard, but not this time. Besides his illegal proclivities and devious desires, he made another crucial mistake.
He made my little hummingbird uncomfortable, and from what I have seen, he threatened her. Even though Lana had denied it. But I know better.
And no amount of wealth could balance a transgression carved that deep.
