Chapter 11
M“Fine.”
I close my eyes and choose to stay like this for a full five seconds.
Why?
My little hummingbird submitted to this situation, getting messy in the process. And she doesn’t even know it yet.
I offer her my hand, and she places her left one in it willingly. I pull her up, hard, and her chest touches mine.
This fucking moment defies what’s to come. Complete annihilation of our souls.
“You have no idea what you just consented to, Lana.”
“Are you still going to give me those fifteen seconds?” she asks. As much as it pains me to do this, I let go of her and make my way toward the stairs. When I stand at the bottom of the stairs, I nod toward the door of the terrace.
“Go outside, Lana. Or I’ll make it ten seconds.” She mutters something about going outside, and before she heads out, I hear her say asshole underneath her breath.
I love her fucking feisty spirit.
I go upstairs to my closet, where my rifles are, and take one I haven’t used in a while.
I have a sniper rifle with a tranquilizer in it, and I take it with me to the balcony. I place it next to me, then put my hands in my pockets.
“Little hummingbird, it’s time for you to fly away,” I call out to her, and she follows my instructions very clearly.
She is running away.
I may be a killer with no qualms about destroying any decency that’s left in me, but what I’ll never be is not fair. I am going to give Lana her fifteen seconds to run away from me.
She is running straight ahead into my maze, and before she reaches it, the fifteen seconds are up. I smile and set up my sniper rifle. I look through the scope and lick my lips before I take my shot.
I shoot the little dart in the back of her upper left thigh, and I know it stings initially because she drops down to the ground. Through the scope, I see her grabbing the back of her thigh and feeling for the little dart.
Then she collapses onto the snowy ground, and I know I should get to her immediately. She could freeze.
I place the rifle onto my bed and run downstairs, so I can get to her.
When I reach her, I scoop her up immediately and bring her back to my living room.
Even though she is unconscious, she is still shivering because it’s fucking cold outside. I cover her up with a blanket on my couch and crank up the heat with my remote. Once I place that shit back, I go over to her and kneel beside her.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” I say to her as I’m stroking her forehead. Besides being fair, I’m also truthful. And it’s not a lie when I tell her she’s beautiful, because she is.
Lana has black hair that reaches the top of her chest, light olive skin, high cheekbones, and a slim figure. But all of that is secondary to what I love most about her: her endurance and work ethic.
I have watched her slave away at a job all these months, but she still shows up and works her fucking ass off. Even though her boss is an abuser.
I need to get her out of that job. Or I need to take out her boss.
Those are all worries for later, because what’s important right now is getting her home.
***
It’s almost 2 a.m., and when I arrive at her apartment in another car, there is nobody on the street.
Sarajevo presents itself as a beautiful and vibrant city during the day, which it is, but at night, you need to watch out.
When we left my house, I made sure to grab her purse because that’s where her keys to her shitty apartment are. I carry her upstairs and open the door with one hand. I open the door, and I want to commit murder right now.
This apartment—no, this whole fucking building—should be torn down. It’s old as hell, and I think I can hear two people fucking three doors down.
“Gross.” Once we reach her bedroom, I lay her down as gently as I did before. Her sheets are on the floor, so I pick them up and cover her with them. She is sleeping so peacefully that I don’t have the heart to wake her.
My reasoning for shooting her is to see if she would listen to me.
And Lana did.
I go through her apartment and make a mental note of what she needs.
“Fucking hell, she needs a whole new apartment,” I stammer to myself. Her apartment is small and in disarray. Her kitchen is awful, her bathroom has a dingy mirror, and her living room is on the verge of collapse.
But it’s hers.
I feel her essence everywhere.
I have been watching Lana for ages now, and being in her presence is so much better than watching her from afar.
But having our little conversation will do for now.
I’ll be seeing her again soon anyway. My thoughts are interrupted when my phone starts ringing.
Adam?
“Adam, what is it?” I ask him as I head down to my car.
“M, what are you doing right now?” he asks me as he is doing something himself. Am I hearing some ruffling in the background?
“I swear to God, Adam, if you and Sara are doing something right now—”
“Fuck no. Listen to me; I have Josh and Oliver with me right now while Sara is talking to Hana.” This can’t be good. Those four are only together when something bad has happened. I get into my car and connect my phone to the Bluetooth.
“Where are you?”
“We are at your apartment, M. Come quickly.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I’m racing through the streets of Sarajevo, and it’s easy to drive quickly now because there is almost no one on the road.
I don’t even need a GPS because I know this city like the insides of my pockets.
I have properties all over the world, but this city? It’s my motherfucking city and playground.
And nobody stomps over my city.
After fifteen minutes, I arrive at my apartment, park my car, and take the elevator to the top floor. When I open the door, I see Sara and the three men sitting at my kitchen table. I take off my jacket and hang it in my closet in the hallway.
As I’m walking up to them, I notice sheets of paper on the table.
“What’s this?” I ask them as I sit down at the head of the table. I flip through the pages, and they are documents about the dealerships that burned down, along with some pictures.
“I think I asked you all a question seconds ago.” At this time, I don’t have any patience, and they sense my growing sense of irritability. Sara speaks first because she doesn’t fear anybody.
“M, we were here all evening because I noticed a pattern.” She grabs a document when my first dealership burned down.
“This is the dealership in Tuzla. It burned down five months ago. And this is your dealership in Banja Luka, that one burned down four weeks later.” Sara hands me the document with information about the dealership that got burned down after that.
“Zagreb. And the last one that burned down was right here in Sarajevo.” Sara lays out all the documents in order, from the first one that got set on fire to the last.
I keep looking at the papers, and my mind is weighing out all the different options. Could it be that someone is targeting me specifically, or is a former business associate seeking revenge? It wouldn’t be the first time.
The last competitor who tried to blackmail me with “proof” lost both of his thumbs.
But I don’t think the multiple arson counts were the work of a competitor, this seems calculated. When I look at Sara, she confirms my suspicions.
“M, what do all these places have in common?” she asks me as she crosses her arms.
Tuzla, Banja Luka, Zagreb, and Sarajevo.1
My brain catches on in an instant, and I take out a cigarette and light it up.
In Tuzla, my mother was born. In Banja Luka and Zagreb, my maternal grandparents were born. In Sarajevo, I was born.
“You mean to say that somebody is targeting the dealerships where my family was born?” My question hangs in the air, and everybody looks at Sara.
Pussies.
“M, I know it’s a reach. But this will confirm your suspicions.
” Sara hands me an envelope with pictures of the fucking hooded figure we have been chasing for months, and clippings of some notes.
First, I take another look at the hooded figure.
A tall man with a strong physique, which is apparent. But who the fuck is he?
I put the pictures down and take a look at the clippings.
His mother was born in Tuzla, and she loved it there.
Grandparents on mother’s side were married for forty-five years. Grandmother was born in Banja Luka, grandfather in Zagreb.
The main subject was born in Sarajevo.
These pieces of paper have been cut out of a diary or a notebook, and I’m positively fuming. Someone is targeting my dealerships to reach me. I put the clippings back into the envelope and put out my cigarette.
“How the fuck did I get these?” I look around the table, and all of their heads are down. Nobody dares to look up. And that only confirms one thing.
Nobody fucking knows.
“My patience is wearing thin, and I need to figure out how I got these.” My eyes land on Sara because she handed me the clippings. She must feel my eyes burning into her skull because when her gaze lands on me, she sighs.
Adam senses the tension and makes a tsk-sound.
“M, you know I appreciate you. But…” He stands up and positions himself behind Sara.
His big form is towering over her, and his presence is demanding.
Protective. “If you ever try to intimidate her again or make it seem like she is responsible, I will fucking come for you.” His tone is low but intimidating, I’ll give him that.
Before I’m about to say something, Sara glances over her shoulder, and she kisses Adam’s hand.
They are in love, and I respect him for protecting her.
I throw up my hands in defeat and apologize to Sara.
“I apologize, Sara. Truly.”
“It’s good, M. Go sit, Adam.” And like a dutiful boyfriend, he does. Sara has Adam wrapped around her finger, and I love that for her. And for him.
“It’s just that I’m so fucking frustrated because nobody knows my address. Wait.” A thought goes through my mind as I pick up the envelope. I scan the entire fucking thing, and there is nothing written on there. No return address, and not even my address. “Where did these get sent to?” I ask Sara.