Page 12 of One Bad Idea
I was even less careful with the second drawer. Maybe Iwantedto make a mess. Maybe I wanted to make him pay. Or maybe I didn't know what I wanted, except to drive him half as crazy as he'd driven me.
When I turned to glare at him, he leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms. "I'm just saying, you should be more careful."
I forced a laugh. "What? With the clothes?"
"No. With yourself." An edge crept into his voice. "I could be someone a lot worse than me."
I forced another bark of laughter. "As ifthat'spossible."
Buthewasn't laughing. "You think it's not?"
In the back of my mind, I knew exactly what he meant. He was a complete stranger and half-naked. As for myself, I was upstairs in an unfamiliar house – a house where my best friend had apparently gone missing.
But the truth was, when I'd first arrived, I'd been far too angry and worried to care.And now?I was still angry, but some of the worry had faded, probably because the guy's attitude – as annoying as it was – had made the whole thing seem more stupid than sinister.
Was I making a mistake?Somehow, I didn't think so.
And in spite of what the guy might believe, this wasn't the kind of thing I normally did, even under better circumstances. Cripes, I'd never even had a one-night stand, so his warning – if that's what it was – was totally unnecessary.
And besides, this was none of his business. All I said in reply was, "I'm not afraid of you, you know."
"Yeah? I wish I could say the same."
Well, that was nice.
In retaliation, I turned away and yanked open another dresser drawer. I reached inside and tossed a wad of clothing over my shoulder, praying that something whacked him in the face, even as I demanded, "What doesthatmean?"
"I mean, you're pretty scary for someone so small."
I was definitely on the short side, so I knew what he meant, except for the part about me being scary. I wasn't scary. I was merely going insane. And it was allhisfault.
Without bothering to look back, I told him, "If you think I'm scary now, just wait."
"For what?"
I bit my lip. "I don't know, but you're gonna regret it."
"Hell, Ialreadyregret it."
Yeah, you and me both, asswipe.
I yanked open the next dresser-drawer and started flinging aside more clothes – shorts, T-shirts, socks and even a few unmentionables, many that were decidedly feminine.
But they weren't Cassidy's. Of this, I was absolutely certain, becausethisstuff was beyond expensive, and Cassidy – like me – didn't have that kind of money.
From behind me, the guy said, "If you think she can fit in that dresser, you're nuts." He paused. "Well, unless we chopped her up or something."
I stiffened.Was that a joke?If so, it wasn't funny. And besides, as he darn well knew, Iwasn'tlooking for Cassidy – not at the moment, anyway. I was looking for her phone – and yes, the opportunity to make the stranger a little crazy, too.
Still, I wasn't about to let his comment pass. I turned to him and said, "I swear to God, if you didanythingto her, I will kill you. Slowly."
He smiled. "Hell, you're killing me now."
With a few choice words, I moved away from the dresser and strode toward the closet. I began shoving aside clothes in search of who-knows-what.My friend? Her phone? My sanity?
By now, I had no idea. In truth, I was hardly thinking at all.
A day without sleep will definitely do that.
