Page 42 of Dead to Me

“Twenty thousand.”

I stared at him.

Twenty thousand dollars. He traded six years of my life for less than the price of a car. I felt something inside me go quiet. Warren probably thought my silence meant mercy.

“I can help you,” he said.

“No, you can’t.”

“I have records. Things Malcolm doesn’t know I kept.”

That interested me. Warren saw it.

“They’re not here.”

“Where?”

“At my office.”

I stepped closer.

“Where?”

“I will give you the address.”

“I already know the address.”

His expression shifted. Of course, I knew the address. I had been keeping an eye on all of them.

“You really planned this,” he whispered.

“Yes.”

Warren looked scared now. Really scared. He understood what I had turned into. At least one of us did.

“Milan, you don’t have to do this.”

“I already did my time for murder.”

I raised the knife.

“I might as well earn the conviction.”

He moved suddenly. His hand caught my wrist. He twisted hard. Pain shot through my fingers.

The knife dropped. Warren shoved me backward. I hit the dresser.

He ran for the door. I grabbed the ice bucket off the floor. He reached the lock.

I swung. The metal edge caught him behind the ear. He crashed into the door. I hit him again. He dropped to one knee.

Blood splattered across the beige wall. The sound changed after the fourth hit.

It was wet.

Warren tried to lift his hand. I hit him with the bucket again. He collapsed. I stood over him, catching my breath.

Blood ran from the side of his head and spread slowly across the carpet. He barely moved. I crouched down beside him. His eyes found mine.