Page 39 of Dead to Me

I picked up the knife. It felt just right in my hand. I set it back down. Now I knew my order of kill. Startingwith Warren, Malcolm second, then China last. China deserved to watch the wedding fall apart before she died.

I wanted her makeup done, her dress on, the flowers arranged, and every chair facing an altar she would never walk to.

I wanted her to stand in front of a mirror, looking just like a bride, before she realized she had spent years getting ready for a life she would never have.

Malcolm deserved something else. I wanted him scared before he died. I wanted him to know I was coming.

Warren didn’t deserve either of those things. He was a police officer when he helped ruin me. He stood in front of cameras and talked about justice. I wanted him gone before breakfast got cold.

I checked the time. It was 7:54. Warren was staying in Room 602.

Most people don’t notice what someone nearby is paying attention to.

I put on black workout leggings and a loose gray sweatshirt. I put back on the black wig and tucked it under a baseball cap.

The hotel was already busy when I walked into the hallway. Bridesmaids carried garment bags from room to room. A florist rolled a cart of white roses to the elevator. Two hotel workers argued in low voices about place cards.

No one paid attention to me. I took the stairs to the sixth floor. Warren’s room was near the end of the hall.

602

I walked past his door once. There was a Do Not Disturb sign and no housekeeping cart nearby. That was good.

I kept walking to the ice machine and filled the bucket halfway. Then I went back and stopped by his door. I knocked. When I didn’t hear anything, I knocked again.

I heard someone moving inside, then his voice.

“Who is it?”

“Front desk.”

Silence.

“What?”

“Mr. Cole, there is a problem with the card authorization on your room.”

I heard more movement. The lock clicked, and the door opened. Warren looked annoyed.

When he saw me, his expression changed.

“Milan.”

I shoved the door hard, making him stumble back. I stepped inside and slammed it shut behind me.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I locked the deadbolt. Warren recovered quickly. He was bigger and older than me, still strong, but that didn’t bother me.

Guys like Warren always thought size meant control. Prison taught me otherwise. He stepped toward me.

“Get out.”

“No.”

He glanced at my hands and saw just the ice bucket. He relaxed a bit. That was another mistake.

“Milan, whatever you think you're doing, you need to stop.”