Books in a Book

Chapter Two

Lana fit her slim - bordering on thin- figure into a loose black jumpsuit, added a white belt around the waist and a small cross body bag.

Then strapped a small gun to her thigh. "Never go anywhere without protection," Dannie always said. 

She hadn't seen Dannie, short for Danielle Cooper, in a while. She'd had to visit soon.

Training to murder people had really brought them together. Dannie was kind hearted and willing to lend a helping hand to everyone despite her "career" path and they had become especially good friends.

Since Lana had moved from her modest city to this small town on the request of the cooperation, Dannie was the only friend she had. The only friend she would allow herself to have.
...

And Mrs Frisher.

The morning light illuminated her room and she finally noted that she should probably clean it after finding her white sneakers underneath a pile of  clothes she could probably use to knock someone out.

A spritz of perfume, hair in a ponytail, some lip gloss on and she was set to go.

The cab dropped her off in front of her destination in no time at all.

Kingstone and Sons. So normal sounding, so just a small tech company. By day.

By night, they were the second ranked assassination and drug company in seven countries.

His office was the size of her living and bed room. Plus maybe the kitchen, and she was not even exaggerating.

The walk from the tinted glass door on the navy blue marble floor to the desk of Anthony Kingstone Jr at the opposite end always made her stomach flutter. And not in a good way.

She set the file on the opaque table -which looked like it continued from the floor- without a word.

Ignoring both of the plush black chairs opposite him, she remained standing. His was also black but not a swivel chair and she had always wondered why the hell not.

He opened it and alight grey eyes moved through leisurely as hers kept busy by looking through the office again.

Cream coloured walls, on which hung a landscape to her left and a big, imposing oil panting of him in a suit over his head.

The only other thing in the room was a big television set mounted on the other end the wall where the landscape was.

Sunlight streamed in from the two windows on the sides of his desk. The desk which easily took up one third of the room.

That, plus the expanse of still empty space really did something to you.

Anthony quite liked his power games.

It shouldn't take him this long to read through the file but he'd realized she wasn't going to be sitting through the visit.

They were an assassination company so sometimes the client filled suggestions of how they'd want it executed.

Sick bastards, the lot of them.

If you were found with one, especially a filled one with the details of a reported death or disappearance, that was your problem and your problem alone. Anthony would not bat an eyelid. Lana often wondered why they used such a means.

"Place of death; his home, " he read, low voice sounding almost amused. It didn't echo.

He had ordered her to report directly to him the day he saw her first test. To shoot someone in a limb three months ago. Afterwards, the gun had clattered to the floor and she had dry heaved.

He nodded once, and set the file aside.

"Do you want your next assignment now?" he asked, standing.

What Lana wanted was to run out of the building screaming and never look back. Not the first time she'd had the thought but she couldn't do that.

So, instead she hummed and stayed standing.

"Or I have a free night tonight and I would like to spend it with you," he whispered in her ear, his chest flush against her.

With copper hair swooped away from his forehead and a lean yet musculed build, Anthony was quite easy on the eyes.

But he had a kind of curious fascination about her which bordered on lust that made her weary. And also the fact that he was the head of a killing company. So there was that.

Lana stepped back. "I can't tonight. Please," she whispered softly, averting her eyes.

He might have been quite lenient with her and didn't really do the bloody work himself but he was still the boss and derived a sort of sick pleasure from the power he wielded.

"Alright. Go to my secretary, she'll print it out for you, " he said, gesturing to the adjoining door.

That would be the third time she was refusing him and he always took it cockily with a grain of salt, as though she would one day beg for him.

Her hand had just touched the knob when he said, "Oh, and good job. "

Lana hummed again.

Oh, Jerry.

She had a feeling his pretty but snooty faced secretary didn't like her. Brittany or Blair, she didn't really care, handed her the file with her nose in the air.

Not for the first time, Lana asked herself as she took the file if Brittany or Blake disapproved of what she was doing.

Surely she couldn't. Not when her boss was the reason the company was ranked second.

When he took over the family business was when it had really blossomed. Not that it was really something to be proud of.

Lana decided to walk for a bit then take another cab to Dannie's.

She looked around. People were enjoying the cool sunlight, going around their daily, normal lives unaware that they were walking past an assassin who had just killed her first person.

Lana had shot all manner of body parts; eyes, individual fingers, knees, but she had never shot with the intent to kill.

She had mainly practiced on interrogation suspects. And it was quite important they stayed alive. Until they talked, at least.

Lana waved to Dannie's left hand neighbor -the house on her right had been empty for as long as they had known each other- who was a woman quite advanced in age.

But not until she called her name did Mrs Frisher turn, stand from her chair, holler and wave back with a smile.

She was quite a sprightly, intelligent old lady but her agility was getting impaired by the fact that she was slowly loosing her eyesight.

Lana rang the door bell and as though Dannie was waiting for it - she might have heard; Mr Frisher's voice wasn't exactly delicate- she opened the door immediately.

In a flash of pink hair, Dannie was in her arms. 

You never would had guessed, though, that the petite woman who just stood to her nose was a trainer to killers. Not to stereotype, but she wore glasses for crying out loud.

After Dannie had served her brunch, she asked.

She told her everything.

"Oh, honey, " Dannie said and gently brought her head to rest on her shoulder. "You shouldn't do that. We talked about it. "

"I know! I know, Dannie but it just happened. He was so nice, so caring and I was so full of nerves that first night I took any excuse to get out of there. "

"When did you do it?"

"Yesterday, because the dead line was tomorrow. "

Lana thought she had spared Dannie the tears but turns out her body could still produce them after twenty more minutes the night before and in the bath that morning.

"It's ok. It's ok. You'll be fine, " Dannie cooed.

Yeah. Fine. Completely fine.