“There’s no vase.”
“What color hair did the man have at the gazebo?”
I watch the scene from a third person perspective, like I’m watching a movie of myself and the two men. I see the man Lukas is talking about. He’s wearing a ski mask and I can’t see his hair, I see his eyes. They are brown, dark brown, and the small amount of skin I can see around his eyes is alabaster.
“He’s wearing a ski mask. His eyes are brown.”
“The waitress, what is her name?”
I look at her again in my memory. I see her smile, and I see her flush when Lukas winks at her. Her name is on her badge, which is partially concealed by the lapel of her uniform. It’s missing the first letter. Molly, or Holly, or Polly, I’m not sure. I try to look again when she brought our drinks and I still can’t see it.
“I can’t quite see it. I think…”
“Think isn’t good enough.” I hear the unmistakable snick of the gun’s safety being released. “If you open your eyes to see what I’m holding to your head, you will not like the end result. What is the name of the waitress?” His tone is icy. He hasn’t faltered or gotten angry. His tone is steady.
I look ahead to the next time I see the waitress. It’s when she delivers my food, and I see her name tag says Holly.
“Holly,” I sigh out. The gun’s safety is clicked back on. I don’t dare uncover my eyes. The gun he was holding to me was not a semi-automatic, it must be a six-shooter. Wow, an old-timer’s gun.
“Good. Uncover your eyes.”
I do, and see he’s leaning up against his car. His arms are crossed over his chest and his ankles are crossed too. “You did very well.”
“Um, thank you. I think. But I still don’t know what I’m doing here.” I keep looking around me and take in more of my environment. I’m looking at small details, and seeing the things others may not see even when they are consciously looking.
“Tell me something, Anna. Behind you is a painting on the wall. You just saw it as you uncovered your eyes and blinked back into focus.” My mind automatically replays the image, preparing me for the question that’s about to follow. “How many left-hand turns did I take to get here?”
That’s not what I was expecting him to ask. I look at him with a perplexed gaze and start to question him, but the look he gives me is warning me to think carefully before I ask anything.
“I’m not…”
“Close your eyes again, Anna.” I do what he asks. “We didn’t speak at all in the car and you were looking outside the entire time. Now think back to where my car was parked. Have you got that in your mind?” I nod once. “Breathe slowly.” I start taking deep breaths in through my nose, exhaling through my mouth, just as Henry taught me to do when I concentrate on a shot.
I can feel my body starting to relax. I watch the movie in my head; I can see me with my ragged clothes, unkempt hair, and dirty shoes climbing into that beautiful Porsche. I watch as Lukas climbs in and glances over at me. I watch the trip and start to count the left-hand turns. I finally get to our current destination and open my eyes to see Lukas looking at me intently. “How many did you count?”
“Seven.” I look for an indication I’m correct.
Lukas smiles at me and pushes off from where he was leaning against his car. “You’ll start training tomorrow, Anna. But for now, go have a shower.”
“Training for what, Lukas? I have no idea what you want from me.”
“Anna, I’m going to train you to be deadly.” I’m left standing next to the car as Lukas walks away from me.
“In what way?”
“I’m going to train you to work for me.”
“You’re not telling me anything; you’re not answering my questions. I still don’t know what you want.
“Your intuition is unparalleled, your memory and powers of recollection are superb, and the way you mask your emotions is just… sublime.”
“So again, you’re telling me nothing Lukas.”
“Anna, I’m going to train you to be a private contractor, so to speak.” Lukas looks at me and smiles. “You’re going to be an assassin.”
I gulp.
I watch as Lukas walks away, not looking back. I stand there with what can only be a dumbfounded look on my face.
An assassin?
Am I capable of that? Is that what he does?
Slowly, my feet take me off to the bathroom. I’m not sure exactly where it is, but I assume it’s the door in the far left corner. I can hear Lukas upstairs, opening and closing doors. Maybe he’s getting me something to wear.
I reach the door and open it to find a bathroom. There’s a huge spa tub, a beautiful, big corner shower and a double vanity. I decide that tonight I’ll have a shower. Hopefully, tomorrow I’ll get to use the spa.
I strip out of my filthy clothes and turn the shower on, as hot as it goes. The shower head is huge and the pressure is divine. I climb in and let the water pound against my body. I feel quite stiff and rigid. Maybe it’s from sleeping on the bench, or maybe it’s from the shock of watching my dad get shot right in front of me, or possibly it’s from the screwed-up life I’ve lived since then.
My mind wanders and I wonder how many times Lukas has been in this shower to wash off the blood of someone he has killed.
He’s an assassin.
He wants me to be an assassin too.
Will I kill just anyone? I can’t quite get my head around that word. Kill.
What makes him think I can play God and choose to take a life?
It feels like I’ve been in here for an hour and when I look at my fingers and see them all pruned up, I imagine I really have been in here that long.
I get out and wrap myself in an oversized green towel, and notice a t-shirt and boxers neatly folded on the vanity. Lukas must have been here to leave them for me.
Putting on clean clothes is almost the best feeling in the world, and it’s something that in my old life I would have taken for granted. The smell of the clothes hits my senses immediately as I close my eyes and bring the shirt to my nose. Once I get my fill of the t-shirt’s crisp smell, I open my eyes to see my dirty clothes are gone. I’ll have to ask Lukas what he’s done with them. I really need to wash them.
Making my way out of the bathroom, I see the sofa has been pulled out and made up into a bed for me. I don’t hear Lukas anywhere and his car is missing. I wonder where he’s gone. I walk around the downstairs, familiarizing myself with the layout, and get a glass of water from the fridge.
I’m tired. I lay down on the sofa bed.
Sleep finds me quickly, but it feels like I’ve only just closed my eyes when terror finds my body and I’m startled awake.
“ANNA!” Someone screams my name.
With my heart pumping, I start to jump out of bed, but find something is covering my eyes and my hands are bound together, and my feet are bound at the ankles.
“What the fuck?” I scream out.
“Settle down.” Lukas’s voice is calm. “Settle down, Anna.” I’m fighting against my restraints and thrashing around like a wounded animal. “It’s part of your training. Calm your body down.” I’m absolutely petrified. I’m unable to move and unable to see and there’s the element of the unknown at what is on the other side of the eye mask. “Listen to my voice. You need to learn to calm your body down at will. Calm down.” I don’t say anything, I simply stop trying to get my limbs free and listen to Lukas.
“Inhale through your nose. Picture a place of happiness for you, and exhale through your mouth. Feel the blood in your body slowing. Relax every part of your body, starting with your shoulders. Bring the relaxation all the way down your torso. Start taking deeper and longer breaths, hold the inhale longer and let the tension go with it when you exhale.” I can feel my body starting to relax. I’m listening to his instruction and it appears to be working. Lukas puts two fingers on the pulse point of my neck. “Good, you have calmed down. But you need to be totally in control at all times
, to be on guard against what is happening around you.”
“Yes, Lukas,” is all I can muster.
“While we’re training you’re to address me as Sir. Once training is over then you may address me as Lukas. Do not speak unless I have asked you a direct question. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
I’m still bound but I don’t feel like I being threatened and have stopped moving around.
“Your arms and legs are bound together by rope. Now your body is calm, you need to try and manipulate the ropes to free yourself. I’ll give you one hour. If you’re successful, I’ll reward you. If you’re not, your next training session will be even worse. I don’t want to hear a peep pass those ruby red lips of yours. What I want is for you to escape the restraints. Your one hour begins now.”
Still lying on the bed, I can hear Lukas walk away. I’m trying to decide what I want to tackle first, my hands or my legs. If I free my feet, I can walk over to a sharp edge and hopefully cut the rope binding my hands, but that’ll be difficult with the blindfold on. If I undo my hands first, then I won’t need to waste time cutting anything else.
I start wiggling my fingers to see how much room I have to move. Just as I’m discovering, the rope is very securely fastened, an ear-piercing screech comes from over in the corner. Music thumps through the speakers behind the sofa. And not any music I would ordinarily listen to–heavy metal, head banging, howling with the beat of a hammer consistently bashing on a cast iron door. The noise distracts me.
I’m hungry and tired and thirsty and need to go the damn bathroom, but these ropes are so tight I just can’t get out of them. The frustration is making my blood boil, but Sir made it very clear I can’t scream out or say a word. I can feel my rage taking over and my heartbeat is racing as my breath becomes more rapid. My head swims with fury and all I want to do is growl and yell about this stupid training Sir is forcing on me. That’s when the word training repeats in my mind.
Training.
Training.
Lukas is training me.
What have I learnt so far?
To use my senses and to become centered.
Frustration isn’t going to help me get these ropes untied.
Using a level head and keeping my composure may help me more.
I center my mind and block the music out completely; I can’t even hear it any more. I’m not even sure if it’s still on. I’m totally focused on the job at hand. I listen for any other sounds and can sense Lukas sitting close by. I smell his aftershave.
I swing myself around and get myself into a sitting position. I replay what I saw when I entered the building last night. The glass table had the book sitting on it, it was moved when the lounge was pulled out to make my bed. It’s now to the left, up against the wall. I jump over to it and I kneel down feeling it with my bound hands to see exactly where it is.
I sit on my butt, bring my legs around, and smash them against the top of the glass. I hear it crack but don’t hear it shatter. The glass top will be weak now, so I do it again. I just hope I’m hitting in the same weakened area. This time, I feel the glass give way, the shards falling around me. I swing around and carefully pick up a piece.
I can feel it’s rather large and I start using it to saw at the rope around my hands. This takes some time, and I try to count the seconds in my head as I’m doing it. I don’t know how much time has passed; all I know is I’m in my own bubble and I need to concentrate to make this happen before Lukas tells me my time is up.
The rhythm of me counting the seconds plays in time in my head.
1560 seconds later I have my hands untied. They’re cut up some, but they’re free of the ropes. I take the blindfold off and work quickly on my ankles.
360 seconds later and I’m completely free.
The noise of the heavy metal breaks through my concentration as I relax, and starts attacking me again. I’ve stepped out of the bubble I was in just moments earlier.
The music ends and Lukas comes to stand in front of me.
“Well done, Anna. You freed yourself. But you owe me for a table.”
My shoulders slump at his reaction, but really what was I expecting? A party? A pat on the back? A hug? My eyes are downcast as I await further instructions from Lukas.
“Your training is over for today. Come have some breakfast.”
“Thank you, Lukas.”
We don’t speak as Lukas makes me toast and a cup of tea. He simply reads the paper as he reclines in his chair. This is the first time I can actually study him in proper light.
“Do you require stitches?” Lukas looks down to where I nicked myself with the glass shard. I notice coagulated blood lumped around a cut. I didn’t realize how deep it was until Lukas mentions it.
“No, I’m fine.” Lukas resumes his breakfast and I try to focus on my food, but my eyes wander to Lukas, looking at his features. This morning he’s dressed in dark jeans and a blue t-shirt that is fitted around his muscular arms but loose around his torso.
His eyes are an extraordinary, uncommon shade of green, like the petals on a spring flower. His hair is predominately blond and reminds me of the sand on a crystal clear beach, with darker strands blended perfectly among the lighter locks. His jaw is chiseled, angular, and forceful. Blond stubble is just starting to show on his face.
“If you keep staring at me, I’ll have you training before tomorrow. But this time I won’t be so gentle.” He called what he did to me this morning gentle? How bad is this going to get?
“I’m sorry, Lukas.”
Lukas gets up and takes my plate before I have finished my toast and goes into the kitchen.
“Get up,” he demands. I do exactly as he says. “Thirty push-ups.”
“What?” I exclaim. He said training was over for today.
“Fifty push-ups.” I’m speechless and still haven’t moved. His back is to me as he cleans the kitchen. “The next number I tell you will have three digits in it unless you drop in the next four seconds.” I don’t wait for him to start counting or even turn around to see what I’m doing. I’m sure he knows I’ve just dropped to my knees to start my fifty push-ups. “On your knuckles and your toes.” You have got to be kidding me. Really? I don’t doubt the pain this man can inflict onto me, so I go up on my toes and my knuckles and start doing the push-ups.
I get to ten and am struggling. I just don’t think I’ll be able to make it. Sweat is pouring off me and my arms are completely weak, unable to keep going. They are shaking and I feel sick to my stomach. I can’t bring myself to tell Lukas I can’t do more because I really don’t think he gives a shit about the pain I’m in. I keep going, and by the time I reach twenty-one, I’m totally spent. I just can’t continue. I physically cannot do this anymore.
Lukas’s running shoes come into view and he squats down in front of me. I look up into his eyes and I’m sure he can tell I can no longer cope.
“You had enough, sweetheart?” Tears spring to my eyes and I feel like he has broken me. The cumulative effect of the last few weeks has become overwhelming. My body starts to shake and tears are falling freely. I don’t dare stop, though. I get to twenty-nine and Lukas stands to take two steps back. I keep fighting with my brain telling me I can’t do it because I’m too weak. “Give up if you can’t do anymore.” It sounds like he’s allowing me to just stop, but I know better. I can’t, I have to push through.
Thirty-three push-ups and my knuckles are aching and starting to split, a small line of blood forming around where my knuckles touch the floor. “Give up, sweetheart.” He chuckles at me. This just makes me more determined to prove him wrong. I can do this; I can fight and I can get past this. Thirty-eight push-ups and my body is protesting. My back and shoulders feel like they are ready to combust.
Forty-four push-ups and now my legs and lower back are starting to seize. “Give up,” Lukas shouts at me. To complete the last six push-ups, I focus on my breathing and on shutting Lukas out. I push and push and ge
t to fifty. But I do one more push up, not to show off or piss Lukas off, but simply because I can. I jump up to my feet and stand, watching Lukas, waiting for his next instructions. “You’re going to be an unstoppable superstar. Go take a bath, I’ll leave sweats by the bathroom door. You need clothes and I need to take you shopping for them.” His tone dismisses me.
I go into the bathroom and start drawing a bath. As the bath fills, I heave up everything I ate this morning. I pushed myself too hard, exerting all my energy. My stomach is still knotting with spasms, but I won’t let this training break me. I need my mask on whenever I’m training with Lukas. I need to be impenetrable, indestructible, but most importantly, my mind must remain powerful.
The rest of the day goes by without a hitch and Lukas takes me to a mall to buy clothes. He buys me an entire wardrobe that ranges from jeans and sweaters down to pajamas and underwear. He also buys shoes and socks for me. I think I have more clothes now than what I did when I was at home with Dad.
Lukas doesn’t make conversation easily; he speaks only when necessary. The day turns into early evening, and Lukas cooks us a simple meal of lasagna. It tastes okay, nothing too special. My exhausted body protests any more waking hours. My eyes close, and before I even know it, I’ve fallen asleep on my sofa bed.
I wake up and feel… normal. For the first time since that dreadful evening my Dad was killed in front of my eyes, I actually feel almost peaceful. I look around at my surroundings and give myself over to the life that has knocked at my door.
I chose this life. I didn’t have to go with Lukas. He gave me a choice, never forced me, and never threatened me. I made this decision.
It feels surreal to think I’m living with a man who is teaching me to become an assassin. What does that actually mean for me, though? I’ll never have a life like other teenage girls, but I never really had one before, either. I’ve always found solace in guns; I’ve never really felt at ease without them.
The sleek, cold metal of a gun, the power it wields, the force of a bullet all make my body tingle. Guns don’t kill people, people kill people. Inexperience kills people. Sloppiness kills people.
The HiT Series Page 21