Page 14 of A Ruthless Bargain
“Of course, I can call the room if you have the guest’s name.”
“Jax Smith.” I crossed my fingers behind my back while the desk clerk called. Please be out, please be out, I chanted to myself. The plan wouldn’t work at all if Jax was actually in the room.
After several unanswered rings sounded, the clerk offered me a concerned look. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, but he doesn’t seem to be available at the moment.”
“Is it possible he’s there, but not willing, or able, to answer the phone?” I asked, as if the thought had just occurred to me.
The concerned expression on the clerk’s face blossomed into full-on panic. “You don’t think that’s the case?”
“Anything is possible.” I dropped my gaze to the floor, as if in deep thought. “I’ll head to his parents’ house and check with them. Thank you for your help.” Before the clerk could respond, I strode toward the exit. I needed to be unavailable, so the clerk would run through the horrific possibilities himself.
Soon I was comfortably back in my car, watching the front door. Waiting for the clerk to come out. The only reasonable thing to do would be to check the room himself. He wouldn’t want to call the police either, but he couldn’t very well do nothing with the bomb I’d dropped in his lap.
Five minutes later, the clerk emerged and walked to the far side of the U. He knocked on a door. I couldn’t see the room number from my car, but I could see it was the door next to the staircase. Nobody answered, and the clerk fished keys out of his pocket. He opened the door and stuck his head inside. I imagined he was calling out for Jax. When he entered and closed the door, I assumed that meant Jax hadn’t answered and now he’d double check Jax wasn’t in there, dead or dying. I only had a few minutes to execute this part of the plan.
Jogging across the parking lot, my closed hand held aloft as if about to knock, the door opened from the inside, revealing the surprised desk clerk.
“I thought you’d be Jax,” I lied. “He finally responded and texted me his room number. He asked me to meet him here. I guess I was quicker since I hadn’t gotten very far.”
“I can’t let you in,” the clerk said, frowning.
“Oh, I know.” I matched his frown and stepped closer to the door. “Can I just peek in and see if anything jumps out at me as amiss?” I continued moving while I asked, so that by the time he refused, I had turned perpendicular to the doorway. Seeing inside while he was there wasn’t my goal. I needed to block his view of the door hinge. I pointed toward the room, and as it’s human nature, he glanced backward. With my other hand, I reached back and slipped the quarter I’d grabbed from my purse when I’d returned to my car into the hinge of the door. Thank god I was tall, so this wasn’t overly awkward. That would keep the door from fully closing, and hopefully keep the electronic lock from engaging. Sherry had taught me that trick when we moved in together. Very handy when you’re loading boxes in or out of an apartment.
Also very handy when you illicitly needed to enter someone’s room.
Quarter placed, I assured the man that I would wait by my car, and left. His eyes stayed on me, I was certain, until I crossed the width of the parking lot. Back at my car, I turned to wave, and then sat inside. The desk clerk hesitated, but ambled his way back to the front desk.
I’d have to hurry. No doubt, the instant Jax Smith arrived, the clerk would inform him of my presence. The clerk might even ask how Jax was doing. Who knew how long I’d have? I waited a full five minutes after the desk clerk disappeared into the registration wing of the building and then I hustled, head down, back across the lot.
The door pulled open without any difficulty. I yanked the quarter from the hinge and slipped inside the room. When the door closed behind me and I stepped toward the king-sized bed, my body temperature leaped as I licked my lips in primal hunger at the sight.
ChapterSeven
I sniffedthe air and tried to place the odor. It was that sweet, musky scent from the day before. Eau de Jax,my mind decided, and I smothered the hysterical laughter bubbling beneath the surface. Of course, I was nervous. I’d broken into the room of an alien. Who knew what could happen? I needed to speed things along.
The room was standard-issue motel. Mottled tan-brown worn carpet. Still life of fruit paintings on two of the walls. A midsize television on a scarred brown chest of drawers. Unmade bed, the comforter shoved to the bottom edge. I cocked my head to listen. Water flowing through possibly rusty pipes. The low murmur of voices in neighboring rooms. Even the sound of cars riding over the asphalt breached the thin insulation. That was good, though. I’d hear if someone was approaching.
Nothing personal anywhere visible. I’d start with the drawers. The top drawer slid open with a rumble. It contained basic black socks and underwear. I inserted my hand to move them around, confirming nothing was hidden below. My fingers rubbed along the cotton fabric. As my fingers touched the cloth, an ache built. I shifted my stance, trying to use the movement of my legs to relieve the throbbing between them. The physical response to his intimates perplexed me. I’d really need to sit down when this was all over and explore these weird feelings about what had happened—kept happening—between me and Jax.
For now, though, my overarching need was for answers. With a shaky breath, I thought of being broke and homeless to kill the buzz. It did the trick, like a bucket of cold water had been poured over my head. I turned my attention to the second drawer. It contained t-shirts and workout shorts, also with nothing hidden beneath. The third drawer was unused. Hmm, not helpful.
I moved to the closet and slid open the mirrored door. Several dark suits hung inside, a mix of styles and striping. A pair of sneakers rested on the floor.
Noise from outside the room drew my attention. I froze. Footsteps. I turned my head to listen more closely. They didn’t pause at the door, but they sure had the effect of spurring me to work faster. Although, to be honest, a bit of disappointment surfaced. Did I wantto be caught?
Back to my search. The bathroom at first seemed similarly unhelpful. Jax had scattered toiletries around the sink, but they were typical of anyone staying in a motel. Toothbrush and paste. Comb and hair gel. Razor kit. A glance in the combo bath-shower area confirmed soap, shampoo, and conditioner. Then I saw the giant box of baking powder next to the bathtub. Why would someone have that in their hotel bathroom? I ran through the list of what I knew of baking powder’s uses and no legitimate reason to have an economy-sized box came to mind. Its presence tantalized, but without anything else, it felt like a dead end and I needed to shift focus.
Shit. I realized my error. Returning to the open closet door, I stared in consternation at the safe. Anything of consequence would almost certainly be in there. Damn it. I’d forgotten that even the cheapest of motels often had a safe. Unfortunately, Sherry had never shown me how to crack a safe. I pulled on the door, and it swung open. Empty. He hadn’t bothered with the safe after all. That was both good and bad news.
Stymied, I spun around to take in the room. Frustration mounted and I crossed my arms over my chest. My eyes searched every crevice of the room as I turned more slowly this time. There had to be something I’d missed. Had to be. Otherwise this was for nothing. How could I prove he was an alien if I couldn’t find anything alien in his room?
“Where the fuck are you hiding your alien toys, Jax Smith?” A lengthy howl of irritation spewed from my mouth. Horrified that I’d alerted a neighboring room to my presence, I clasped my hands over my face and waited for a response. No knocking on the walls to be quiet. No ringing phone to ask if everything was okay. I supposed strange noises came from these rooms regularly. Although I felt marginally better not to be caught after my verbal freak out, I still hadn’t found anything. I didn’t have another plan—
Wait. An object stuck out from under the mattress. I almost laughed out loud. A tiny corner of something plasticky was visible. I kneeled beside the bed and tugged. Confusion surged when I held it aloft. The size of a half-sheet of paper, the translucent hard plastic had a series of raised bumps and iridescent colors across it.
“What the fuck is this?” I perched on the edge of the bed, ignoring both the increased sweetly musky smell and my body’s reaction to it. Instead, I ran my hands along the various bumps and ridges, trying to make sense of what I held. When my fingers touched one swirl of the iridescent colors, a red snap of electricity hit my finger, followed by an invisible jolt of current that raced up my arm.
“Oww!” I flung the plastic sheet to the floor and rubbed my hand along my opposite arm. A red trail from my palm to elbow matched the burning sensation the jolt had left behind. As I massaged my skin, the redness faded with the burning.