Page 6 of One Bad Idea

Sure enough, I had two missed calls and two messages. Frantically, I hit the play button and listened with growing trepidation to the voice of the person who'd just hung up on me.

After giving her name – Morgan Fletcher – she got right to the point. "Listen," she said in the message. "If you're planning to get your roommate, you might want to hurry, because she's drunk off her ass and making a spectacle of herself."

I shook my head.No. That couldn't be true.Cassidy wasn't remotely a partier, and she hated drama more than anyone I knew.

There was a brief pause before the voice continued. "No, it'smorethan a spectacle. You want the truth? She's whoring herself out for drinks and gas money."

I swallowed.What?

"It's disgusting," she was saying. "There's these two rich guys who own the place, and she's all over them, promising the lewdest things for a little cash. And just so you know, they like to share." Her voice grew shrill. "So if you're planning to pick her up, get your ass in gear and just do it already before I call the police!"

And then, she was gone – or rather, her voice was.

I stood there for a long, silent moment, wondering what planet I was on, because there was no way on Earth that message could be true.

And yet, a little voice in my head whispered that Cassidy's momwasa partier, and would've done exactly the sort of thing the stranger had described. Even worse, Cassidy had been living with her for the past week.

Cripes, for all I knew, that monster had dragged Cassidy to the party and put crazy ideas into her head – or more likely, drugs into her drink.Date rape drugs?

Oh, God.Maybe the storywastrue.

Now, I was desperate to hear the second message.

There was only one problem. The phone was dead.Again.

Shit.

I should've left it plugged in, even if it meant that I had to huddle next to the outlet to talk. But I hadn't. And now, I was totally screwed.

No.Cassidy was screwed.Literally?I sure as hell hoped not. My gaze drifted to the open doorway, and I felt my eyes narrow.

If Cassidy was in there, I was going to get her – or kill someone trying.

Chapter 3

Bracing myself, I stepped through the open doorway. The place was more like a palace than a house, but I couldn't appreciate any of it. I stopped to call out, "Cassidy? Are you here?"

No one answered, not even the idiot who'd originally come to the door.

I looked around.Where was he?

Maybe he'd skirted out through the back?

I frowned. If so, what did that mean? Was he, even now, making his way down the beach with a bunch of jewelry and a wad of stolen cash?

It wasn't completely outside the realm of possibility.

As I glanced around, I tried not to worry that if such a thinghadhappened, I was probably in danger of getting blamed for whatever was missing.

But I wasn't going to letthatstop me, not with Cassidy in trouble.

Still calling her name, I strode deeper into the house, keeping a sharp eye out, not only for my friend, but also for any sign that I was on the right track.

Supposedly, there'd been a party here last night, but I saw no signs of it – no empty drink cups, no dirty dishes, no mess at all.

Instead, I saw expensive-looking furniture, obscenely high ceilings, fancy woodwork, and through the stunning patio doors, a breathtaking view of the ocean.

Whoever owned this house, they had money.Seriousmoney.