Milo knew it was foolish. Yet, as he swirled the watered-down bourbon in his glass, excitement eclipsed caution. What was the point of revenge if it was bland and tasteless on his lips? He wanted to relish the moment, to see Cal’s confusion, his fear, and finally his acceptance.
Milo signed the bill and slipped the credit card into his wallet—another clue the bumbling cops would overlook. He paused for a moment and took in the scene: Cal Landry on his back, lips blue, his mouth opening and closing like a fish on a boat deck, his cohort on her knees beside him, clutching his now limp hand. Milo’s face was a blank mask, but inside he was laughing and pointing like a kid in the schoolyard. Look who got that last laugh, friend.
That’s when Cal Landry turned his head.
And looked right at Milo.
Milo stared back and watched the phases pass Cal Landry’s eyes: recognition, resignation, death. The ennui he had felt stabbing Regina Phelps morphed into a euphoric feeling of arousal. It was the single most intoxicating experience of Milo’s life.
A safe distance away, Milo sat on a park bench and basked in the afterglow. This was what had been missing. Connection. God, he had been a virgin with that first kill—fumbling in the dark like a teenager, eager to just get it over with. He had overlooked all the pleasure to be found in the act, the small moments that made it satisfying. When Cal had looked at him and understood completely what had happened, in his last moments of life, comprehending the magnitude of his disloyalty and greed—it was the most fulfilling moment of intimacy Milo had ever experienced.
Standing across from Cal Landry and watching the life leave his eyes, he knew just how to make his final act of vengeance the most satisfying of all. One more name on the list. One last person to pay for his mistreatment. He wouldn’t simply observe those flickering embers of regret and remorse; no, he would create them.
Milo would need to plan much more carefully, a task he relished. He would prolong his foreplay as long as necessary to ensure the ultimate gratification. Because in order for this culmination to meet his expectations, he needed to be the instrument of her demise—not a knife, not poison.
Milo was going to kill Charlotte Devlin with his bare hands.