Page 3 of Defying the Relic Hunter

I watched the executive and Jones disappeared into an office. My plan for getting Ethan out of the way was right on schedule. This morning I robbed a jewelry store wearing his image. Now all I had to do was plant the jewels in his hotel room and call the police. Easy. Peasy.

Chapter Four

A short time later I adjusted my borrowed maid’s uniform. Who knew I could still squeeze into a size 10? I know I had put on a little weight. Ok, who was I kidding? I had gained twenty pounds. The stress of losing job after job had turned me into a chocoholic. It was the only thing that kept me sane.

The downside of my sanity was the ugly brown shirt squashed my breasts and I was afraid if I breathed too deeply the buttons would pop off. Pushing the maid’s cart to room 1213, I inserted the pass keycard Uncle Aldo had made me and slipped inside Ethan’s hotel room.

Whoa! The elegant sitting room had a terrific view of the city and double doors opened onto an enormous balcony complete with comfy lounge chairs. The opulent bedroom was a playboy’s wet dream with a bed big enough for an orgy. He’d better enjoy it now. Ethan’s next accommodation would be a six by eight cell with a metal toilet.

Pulling on my latex gloves, I planted the jewelry in the air vent and the laser pistol in his luggage. Once I was safely out of the hotel, I’d call the police with an anonymous tip.

I passed the wet bar and a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies drew me like a magnet. The hotel did know how to treat its customers. I grabbed one and took a bite. Oh! My! God! Could you have an orgasm from chocolate? I took another bite. Ooooh yeah.

I put the plate of cookies on my cart. No sense in leaving them. I mean, guys weren’t into chocolate, right? Stuffing the cookie in my mouth, I opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

The elevator doors dinged, and Ethan strolled out. Holy shit! Talk about bad timing. At lease he hadn’t teleported into the room with me in it. I sucked in a deep, calming breath. No reason to freak out. All he would see was an overweight Hispanic looking maid doing her job. Keeping my head down, I pushed the cart calmly down the corridor. His cocky stride had me gritting my teeth. Macho creep. I risked a quick peek.

Huh? The rat had gotten a haircut and his cold amber eyes were locked on the plate of cookies as he walked towards me. They were mine and there was no way Ethan was getting his paws on them.

The top button on my shirt suddenly shot off like it had been propelled by a rocket launcher. I watched in horror as it smacked him right between the eyes. Oh hell!

Ethan stopped dead and stared at me. “Helping yourself tomycookies, sweetheart?”

His sweetheart sounded more like a cuss word than an endearment.

When I didn’t respond he added, “Do you know you havemychocolate on your mouth?”

His chocolate? I quickly swiped at my lips. “No comprende.” I winced. My Mexican accent really sucked.

Ethan’s gaze narrowed. “Drop the act. You’re the little, hot to trot hussy from the museum.”

Hussy? “No comprende.”

He snorted. “Like hell you don’t. Your violet eyes are quite unique. Guys don’t forget a chick grabbing their ass and asking for a threesome. I’ll bet you a hundred credits, you have an angel tattooed on your right breast.”

The angel was a birthmark, not a tattoo. “No comprende,” I repeated, pushing the cart faster.

Another button rocketed off and whacked him in the nose. Ethan’s gaze settled on my ample cleavage. “What were you doing in my room, Angel?”

Crap. I should have never worn that tank top. I pulled a miniature stun gun from my apron pocket. “No hablas.”

“Oh, you understand me perfectly. You’re under arrest for breaking and entering and theft of cookies.”

He wanted them back. Not a problem. Grabbing the plate of cookies with my left hand, I smashed it in this face and scurried around the cart. “You don’t have the authority to arrest me.”

He wiped at the smooshed cookies decorating his face. “The hell I don’t.” Ethan shoved the cart out of the way and lunged at me.

I ducked under his out-stretched arms and nailed him in the stomach with my stun gun.

With a grunt. Ethan crumpled to the floor and not even thirty seconds later, he was struggling to his feet. “Stun guns don’t work on Coletti warlords, sweetheart.”

“This stun gun isn’t like the others. Not only does the electric shock play havoc with your brain synapses, it also keeps you from teleporting. Oh yeah, and it slows you down. Way down. A toddler could outrun you.” I smiled at him. “Bye, bye,sweetheart.”

“You just made the biggest mistake of your life,” Ethan growled, his movements stiff and graceless.

“No, you have.” Yanking the fire alarm, I dropped a smoke bomb and hauled ass down the stairs.

I was wheezing like a stranded guppy when I finally made it to the parking lot. Twelve flights of stairs in less than five minutes had to be a record.

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