A group of my passengers milled together outside the cabins at the far end of the hotel grounds. Alarm seared through my gut, lending my feet wings. I covered the distance between my cabin and passengers in seconds flat, despite the gravel footpath beneath my bare feet.

"What's wrong?" I squeezed out the words between adrenaline-fueled pants.

"Oh look. It's An-An-Anna!" my sister warbled. "She's dead. She's dead, dead, dead!" Elizabeth was rotten drunk. She stood between Jack Donovan and Carmichael Jones and wobbled from side to side.

"You're drunk." My eyes narrowed to slits. "You're all drunk."

"Not too drunk to notice you've got your T-shirt inside out," Jack said.

"And you're not wearing a bra. Shouldn't do that when it's so cold in the mornings," Elizabeth chided. She spoiled it by hiccupping loudly. The three of them laughed hysterically.

"Antonia's been murdered," AJ said.

It was then I noticed Antonia, another of my passengers lying on the ground. Unmoving. Fear and anger knotted inside me. Why weren't they doing anything? I pushed past my passengers, elbowing Elizabeth and company aside when they didn't move fast enough. "What's wrong with her? Are you sure she's dead? Have you called for a doctor?" Lord, Antonia wasn't moving. She didn't even appear to be breathing. Sheer black fright froze me for an instant before instinct kicked in and my first aid training came to the fore. I sank down on my knees and felt for a pulse. A strong, healthy pulse beat beneath my fingers. Confused, I glanced up to find every one of my passengers smirking at me. I looked back at Antonia. Her eyes were open now and she closed one green eye in a wink.

"Gotcha," she said with a great deal of satisfaction. "We decided we'd award a prize for the best death. I think I might have a good chance of winning."

Shock yielded swiftly to fury. I leapt to my feet, clenching my teeth together and glared at them all. "I thought there'd been an accident. I thought Antonia was really dead." I hurled my words at them like stones, but it didn't seem to puncture their alcohol-induced hilarity. They'd obviously spent most of the night drinking and partying, although some of them were worse for wear than others. A vein throbbed at my temple, and I felt my face grow hot. Damn, didn't they see how irresponsible they'd been?

"We've started playing the murder game," Sebastian said from behind me.

"You!" I whirled to face him, allowing every bit of my anger to show in my face. I literally shook with it. "You should know better."

His brows rose a fraction while his face remained expressionless, but I just knew what he was thinking, what they were all thinking. They thought I was overreacting. Fine. They could think what they liked.

"The truck will leave at eight on the dot. Make sure you're ready with all the packs and sleep gear stowed in the back locker." My voice was harsh, my words letting them all know I meant business. Yep, bitch number one. Aware of the chill in the air and Sebastian giving my chest the once-over, I wrapped my arms across my breasts and stamped back to my cabin.