Ocean Kills (Ocean Breeze)

by Jade Hart

  “A girl has been anonymously dropped in Wade's office. I'll begin a file and organize a team to investigate, sir.”

  Captain Gray glared. “Give me the note, Bliss.”

  Shit. It had Ocean's DNA all over it. What if they tracked it to her?

  Wade skidded to a stop beside us. “Ambulance is here. Help me explain the situation to the medics.” I wanted to kiss him for his perfect timing.

  “Sir?” I looked at Captain Gray.

  A frown etched his forehead, his eyes on my arms behind my back. “Fine. Go ahead. But give the file to another officer. Your shift is finished. Go home.” He stomped off, then turned. “Just a heads up. I’m investigating you. That is all.”

  I was left staring at a retreating back. Investigating me? Shit, that wasn’t good.

  “Callan?” Wade said, “Come on. Ambo. Girl.”

  “Right.” I dismissed the fact I might not have a job soon, and helped Wade with the paperwork.

  Once the girl was safely shuttled to hospital, Wade turned to me. “I’ll keep my promise about what happened in my office, but what's that Breeze woman caught up in?”

  “A sex ring in South Africa. A man named Atsu Bazeer, in Century City.” I didn't know why I told him, but it was a relief to tell someone. “I think Ocean's in trouble.”

  “What did this Bazeer dude do?”

  “He's a sick bastard, that's what he did,” I growled. “You're in charge of the drugged girl. Find her parents and organize the detox. I'm heading the search for Bazeer.” I stormed off.

  Wade coughed after me. “You heard what the captain said—your shift is finished. Go home. Someone else can do the search. You don’t want to give him more ammunition against you.”

  I spun on my heel. My gun holster knocked a can of pens off a desk. Ignoring the clatter, I snapped, “I'm not going home. That prick has spent his last day as a free man.”

  I slammed my office door and threw Ocean's money on my desk. My breathing was out of control. Ocean was in that man's clutches. I knew it. She was doing something to help those girls. She hadn't lied to me. She was a killer. A vigilante with a will to help others. And she was dancing with the devil.

  I might even be too late to help her.

  My blood froze.

  No. I wouldn't be too late.

  Screw it. If I walked a line that would get me fired, I could get another job. But I might never find another woman who bewitched me like Ocean.

  With my brain revving at super-sonic speed, I dialed the one number that could help me. No point in asking Captain Gray to call in overseas police help. That would take months and Ocean didn't have months. She might not even have hours. I needed someone with clout. Someone who was as ruthless as me. Someone I trusted to get the job done.

  “Ahn nyeong hah she yo,” a reedy voice said on the second ring.

  “Mr. Kim, nan ne doum-i pil-yohae.” The Korean language flowed off my tongue. Would he recognize me?

  “Callan?” The thick accent didn’t stop the pleasure in the tone. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, Mr. Kim. I'm sorry it's been so long.”

  “Nonsense. No apologize.” His English was better after the years I’d spent with him, but it was still jerky. Just hearing his voice shot me back to the black dungeon of his office. The countless hours together. The tests he gave me. The lines of code he taught. It was the best education of my life.

  “You need help? Why? Something happen?”

  I could always rely on him to cut to the chase. A small snippet of relief tempered my wish to hurry. “Yes. A friend is in danger. I need you to pull some strings to organize an arrest warrant.”

  “Name? Location?” Keys were already tapping in the background.

  I owed this man a lot. He was quick: no useless questions, or hesitation.

  “Atsu Bazeer. Century City, South Africa.”

  A brief pause. I crooked the phone against my shoulder as I typed the name myself. My computer whirred, finding me information, as Mr. Kim came back on the line. “It is done. I arrange phone call to him.”

  What?! “A phone call? That isn't enough, Kim. I need him arrested. It's very important.”

  “I no have that power, Callan. My contact will arrange phone call quick sharp. But no arrest. Threat of arrest, yes. But no physical.”

  My heart refused to stop impersonating a jackhammer. Biting back the urge to beg, I said, “Thank you for your help. I’m in your debt.”

  A chuckle came down the line. “You my best student. You get in touch when you want proper job. You like Bali? I give you more contacts like that. Yes?”

  A small smile broke through my worry. “Yes. I'll get in touch. Thank you.”

  I may be calling him sooner than I anticipated. Working within the confines of the law chaffed me. I hated tiptoeing around criminals, afraid of being sued. I wanted freedom again. Then again, Captain Gray was investigating me. I might not have a choice.

  Mr. Kim hung up and I dropped the phone. Blood drained from my face as I read the results of my search on Atsu Bazeer.

  Holy fuck—Ocean was in trouble if she was messing with this guy.

  I just hoped Mr. Kim's phone call was in time.

  Chapter Fourteen: Ocean

  This time I couldn't move. The room washed around me, and I lay in exactly the same state as the girl I just rescued. My body was concrete, brain liquid fire, eyes hazy, and heart erratic.

  Death. Only sweet death could take my pain. The oblivion of unconsciousness could wipe away the bone-splitting, blood-boiling torture.

  I wanted to scream and cry and writhe. I wanted someone to kiss my brow and whisper sweet nothings—to tell me I’d be alright. That nothing and no one could hurt me.

  Hot tears dribbled down my cheeks, mixing with the blood on my mouth and chin. Breathe, Ocean. Just breathe for now. Let your body rest. I couldn't do anymore. My body was past its limit. That made me cry harder. Who knew how many girls still needed me? Who knew how much time ticked past?

  Finally, I was able to take a shaky breath, and opened my eyes. I was still blind in one, but slowly my wits rebuilt. If I could find some food, I could keep going.

  I hated this weakness. Hated having a limit on how much I could port, how many I could save. I didn't read of superheroes almost dying. I expected nothing less from myself.

  Swinging my legs off the bed, I promptly collapsed. No!

  I fought the gravity-crushing blackness, but it was too late. Unconsciousness smothered me, and I surrendered.

  *****

  I came to. How long was I out? I didn't have a clue. My body shut itself down to heal faster. I hoped it was only brief.

  Crawling into a sitting position, I groaned and pulled my legs up. I sat with my head hanging between my knees.

  Any moment now, the faintness would pass and I could continue.

  Any moment now, I would be fit and healthy and full of power.

  Any moment now. . .

  *****

  The next minute, I was wrenched awake by urgent hands.

  My eyes were glued together; I forced them open. The worst hangover in history hammered through every inch of me.

  “You have been very bad. Master will punish you.” Clark slapped me, helping lucidness wake me up.

  My stomach squeezed, but found no contents worth evicting.

  Clark shook me again. My head lolled on my neck. “You hear me? You stupid, stupid girl.”

  I was in serious trouble. I'd been caught, and I was in such a powerless state there was no chance I could teleport. I’d become a bunch of mismatched molecules bouncing around in white space for eternity. Fear squeezed my throat, but I fought it back. Sucking up every inch of courage and energy, I swatted away his hand and stood.

  It didn't last long. My legs turned to mush and I fell.

  Clark caught me against his scrawny chest. I hadn't taken much note of him before, but he had sad brown eyes and his skin was flawless—a rich black speaking of an ancient heri
tage. His goatee brushed my cheek as he hoisted me higher.

  I struggled meekly in his arms.

  Slowly, my strength returned. My body knew its only chance to survive was to climb out of its funk and get out of there. If I couldn't port, running would have to do.

  Clark let me go when I pushed against his chest. This time I remained standing. His eyes were frantic rather than angry. “What did you do?” He shifted, wringing his hands.

  An idea bloomed. Clark's body language screamed that he didn’t want to be involved. I tasted his unwillingness to hurt me, even though he knew he should. I could bribe him. Get him on my side.

  My head swiveled to the bed, looking for my envelope of cash. Where was it?

  The bed was a rumbled disaster, no money salvation in sight.

  The police station!

  I left the only thing that could've saved me with Callan freakin' Bliss!

  I couldn't comprehend it. I was done for. I looked wildly at the little butler. Would he agree to help me for just the promise of money? I could return to the police station and claim my envelope if Clark helped me escape.

  “If—” I began, then coughed and cleared my throat so I didn't sound like a corpse. “If you let me go, I promise I'll make it worth your while.”

  Clark snorted. “I don't like women. You can't bribe me with your feminine charms.”

  “I meant money, dimwit.” I had enough energy to chuckle at his expression. “I'll pay you the million rand Bazeer gave me, if you help me escape. I promise I'll return.”

  “Why would you return? You have no reason to.”

  So he hadn't found the other missing girls. He didn't know what I was up to. That was good. Working on the element of surprise, I asked, “How many girls does Bazeer have here?”

  Clark puckered his lips, glaring at me.

  “Come on, tell me. What harm can it do? You'll be rich. You can leave his employment. How many?”

  Clark fidgeted. His eyes jumped as he counted in his head. “There are currently six rooms occupied, but there are two sets of twins.”

  Two sets? Of course—it made my job that much harder. I'd saved four girls so far. That meant I was half-way. Not as bad as I thought, but still half too many to go.

  Clark added, “That doesn't count the other girls incoming from overseas, or the ones in the trial house on the other side of the city.”

  My entire body wobbled in horror. “What? How many?” Dear God, how many?

  Clark looked nervously at the door. “I'm not sure. According to overhead conversations, I would say about fifty all together.”

  The air whooshed from my lungs. Fifty? I couldn't do it! How was I supposed to save that many? I was a failure. I needed help. For the first time in my life, I wanted to hand the reins to another.

  Keeping my voice level was the hardest thing I'd ever done. Tears wrapped around my voice box and I swallowed hard. “Will you help me, Clark? Is taking me to Bazeer, where he'll hurt me, worth a million rand? Think what you could do with that money!” Desperation lined my tongue as Clark inched toward me.

  “No, it is not worth it.” But it didn't stop his hand from latching onto my elbow, guiding me from the room. I didn't fight. Why would I? I was a feeble mouse. Blood-drained and as brittle as a skeleton. It would be a laugh if I fought. Instead, I bowed my head and accepted my punishment. If there was food on the way, I’d inhale it and stand a chance at leaving. But right now, I was doomed.

  Clark remained mute as we traipsed down the corridor. At the staircase, he released me, allowing me to descend in front of him. Each step heralded my death. Every foot in front of the other took me deeper into the lion's den where my body would be the main course. If that was the price to pay for the freedom of Holly and the other women, then I’d pay it in silence, and lock away this night forever.

  Clark didn't say another word as he ferried me to the front of the house, up the grand, sweeping staircase, and down the plush carpeted corridor.

  I rubbed at the caked blood beneath my nose, trying to make myself less Halloween-like. I knew from experience I’d be as white as a lily. I fluffed up my hair and rearranged my boobs. Perhaps I could talk myself out of this. Think up some amazing excuse, Ocean. Now is the time to act better than you ever have before.

  My heart was a rabbit’s, but outwardly, I was calm. I would get through tonight; tomorrow, I would free the remaining girls. I would. No question or ‘what ifs’ about it. I refused to think Bazeer would kill me the minute Clark told him about the missing woman. My death was already finalized.

  Clark mumbled something.

  I stopped, not looking over my shoulder. “What?”

  His breath tickled my exposed back. “I won't mention a girl was missing, or the tampered locks. If you serve him tonight, I will help you escape with the girls tomorrow. As long as you help me escape, too—with the money you promised, of course.”

  I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or cry. This man delivered me like a present to be used mercilessly, and expected to get paid for keeping my secret? Stupidly, I was happy. It was more than I hoped. Clark's silence would ensure Bazeer would remain in the dark while I finished my task tomorrow.

  I nodded once, sucking in a heavy breath. He was my accomplice, keeping my secrets as long as the price was right. And right now, he was my only friend. I wanted to lean against him and sob with fear.

  Clark stopped in front of an ornately scrolled door. He knocked, then turned, leaving me to my fate.

  Atsu Bazeer appeared in a violet silk robe. His smile fell. “What happened to you?” His chest puffed. “Did a staff member hurt you?” His concern would be rather touching, if only he wasn't worried about other men hurting me because he wanted to.

  “No, I suffered a nosebleed, that's all. I think my iron levels are low.” I allowed him to usher me into the bedroom; my eyes almost popped out of my head with the kinky fuckery lining the walls.

  A gilded cage swung in the corner. A rack of whips, paddles, and cuffs. A four-poster bed with a mirror on the ceiling. Everywhere I looked, there were bottles of lube, sex toys, and condoms. My stomach wanted to claw its way out my throat. This was too much—far more than I bargained for. Perhaps I could kill him now? My fingers itched to get my switchblade. One quick slice and it would be done. Once slice and this nightmare could be over.

  Bazeer watched me carefully, like a lion stalking a zebra. I knew exactly how those poor suckers felt.

  “You like?” His hand stroked my shoulder. It cost me everything not to shudder.

  I smiled, playing it off. “It's very well decorated.” I walked away from his touch, and picked up a massive dildo. “This seems rather excessive.” It reeked of some artificial strawberry smell. Why was it scented, for freakin’ sake?

  He laughed. “That isn't the big size.”

  I gulped. I couldn't help it. It would split any woman in two.

  Bazeer noticed. He spun me around to face him. Pressing himself against me, he grinded his erection into the layers of fabric of my skirt.

  I tested my power. Could I escape? No. . . there wasn't enough energy to disperse my body and port. I was stuck in this prison. It was my worst nightmare come true.

  His breath was hot and smelled of cigars as he sucked my neck. Think of something else, Ocean. Anything else.

  Sea-green eyes came to mind. Him? Why him? I didn't even know Callan. Was it a sick fantasy that he was a cop and could save me? Like the ones who saved me when I was eight? Anger bloomed in my chest; my skin flushed with heat.

  Bazeer mistook my reaction for lust. I didn't discourage him. I pressed harder against the thing prodding my stomach. A glimmer of a plan came to mind. Would it work?

  I looked into his gaze with hooded eyes, purring, “You are very well endowed, Mr. Bazeer. I have a feeling we’ll have some fun.” I allowed him to kiss me, all the while holding my breath and lack of stomach contents.

  His paws grabbed my breasts, but they were well encased in their corset
. It pinched and hurt, but he couldn't dislodge the boning protecting my torso. What a great choice this dress had been.

  My hands curled; I pushed him away from me. “As you noticed, I’m not well, sir. Can we perhaps reconvene tomorrow?” I ran my finger along my bottom lip. “I promise I'll make it worth the wait.”

  Bazeer growled and dragged me back to him, thrusting against me. The urge to murder made my mouth water. I wanted this bastard dead.

  “You promised to serve me every night. No exceptions,” he snapped.

  My mind raced. Stick to the plan. Be brave. Be bold. Be seductive. My stupid plan was to make him want me, then pretend to faint. Would that work? Or would he just rape my unconscious body? Anything was worth a shot right now.

  His hand fumbled under my skirts, brushing against my matching grey underwear. This was out of control. A knife to the jugular would be better. Who cared if his henchmen found out before I could free the other women? He was the ringleader. Take him out and the whole operation would fail. Wouldn't it?

  Another gross kiss on my shoulder made me shudder. My fingers hitched my skirt, nimbly grabbing my switchblade. It was as if my hands had a mind of their own. I was no longer in control. I wanted his blood to flow.

  A knock.

  Thank every deity on the planet.

  Bazeer stopped his fumbling, yelling, “What?” He licked my neck with a deliberate wet tongue.

  I smiled, when all I wanted to do was rip his eyes out.

  “A phone call, sir. The police.”

  My eyes went wide.

  Bazeer snarled. His fingernails dug into my cheeks. “Did you tell anyone?”

  I was glad I was a good actress, as my life depended on it. I didn't blink as I replied, “No. I've been locked in your office building all day, and with the girls just now. How would I have told anyone?” I gritted my jaw and rubbed his erection. “It wasn't me. I want to be here. Why would I tell?”

  He bought it, and spun on his heel, disappearing out the door. He stalked down the corridor, barking orders to Clark. “Take her to her quarters. Lock her in.”

  Clark motioned for me to follow. Silently, we meandered through the richly decorated corridor to another wing of the house. My mind raced. Who called the police? It was too convenient.