Ocean Kills (Ocean Breeze) (32 page)

I smiled. Excellent. I'd never have to do that shift again. “Sorry, mate. I'll email what I've found on Emily Snow, okay? Go back to sleep.” I hung up.

Sending Wade the updated file only took minutes, and I was back to thinking about Ocean.

Time.

Every tick. Every tock. Every second that screeched past knotted my guts into a pretzel.

She was seriously late. The clock showed 9:51 a.m.

Shit. Where was she? Nerves stabbed me. My heart refused to stop its crazy tempo. My phone rang.

“Callan speaking.” My voice was clipped.

“Hello Callan speaking. Mr. Kim speaking.” He laughed.

My ears pricked. Why was he in such a good mood? “What do you want?” Now was not a good time to play with me. Not when Ocean was so bloody late.

“We found your girlfriend.”

My world screeched to a halt. “
What
did you say?”

My phone beeped in my ear, telling me another call was on the line. I really didn’t want to leave Kim after what he said, but what it if was her? I snapped, “Someone else is calling. I'll ring you back.”

“I know who's calling. I already arrange her release.” Kim hung up.

I frowned, trying to understand what the hell he meant. I answered the call waiting. “What?” I barked. Then a flash of fierce hope. “Ocean?”

“Am I speaking to Callan Bliss?” The female voice was smooth, professional. I stopped pacing and glared out my window. The surf curled perfectly, hiding the monsters of the deep with sharp teeth.

Taking a ragged breath, I gathered my scattered thoughts. “Yes. Who is this?” My voice was barely civil. Fear made me furious. Where the fuck was Ocean? And how the bloody balls did Kim know where she was before me? I was helpless and that made me madder than hell.

“I’m a nurse in the recovery ward at Life’s St Mary’s hospital in Durham. I'm calling about Ocean Breeze. I have a note on her file stating you’re her next of kin. Is that correct?”

It was a stroke of genius when I put my name as her next of kin on her criminal records, including medical ones. She’d kill me if she knew, but my sanity loved my foresight. Thank God.

“Yes. What happened?” My hand tightened around my phone. “Tell me, is she okay?”

“She was stabbed. She’s recently returned from surgery.” No preamble. The answer doused me with ice water. The soft melody of her African accent didn't make the news easier to swallow. Ocean. Bleeding. Hurt.

“Will she be okay?” I wanted to wring Ocean's neck. How the flip could she let herself be stabbed? What the hell happened with her and Bazeer?

“Her surgeon is Oscar Smith. He is an excellent physician and always provides the finest treatment.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I'm not at liberty to tell you, I'm afraid. The police are involved, but you are encouraged to come and collect your,” a pause and a shuffle of paper, “wife, in six to eight hours once the anesthetic has worn off.”

My chest was tight. She was injured and thousands of miles away from me. That was the stupidest idea I've ever had. Sure, let's give her the name of a sick bastard and let her gallop off to kill him.
Shit, Callan!

Guilt crushed me; it was as heavy as the waves pounding the sand below. I couldn't get there in eight hours. I wanted to punch a wall. She was so far away and I couldn't be by her side.

This relationship was riddled with problems. Why did I fight the inevitable? We just weren't compatible. I’d go mad—senile—with worry.

“Hello, you there?” the feminine voice asked.

I ran a hand through my hair. “Yes, I'm here,” I sighed. “Look, I won't be able to make it in time, but I'll arrange transport for her. I'll call you back.” Not that I really needed to. Ocean would just up and teleport, I was sure of it. Regardless, I quickly checked the number was captured on my phone.

“Oh, okay. That will be fine. I'll tell Mrs. Bliss when she awakes that her husband is arranging transport.”

Ah, that would be awkward. “Can you perhaps avoid telling her you spoke to her husband? Just call me Callan. I'll arrange for her to be collected.”

A pause. “I guess that would be okay. I'll wait to hear from you then. Thank you, Mr. Bliss.”

I hung up and immediately called Maurice. He answered on the first ring.

“We have a problem,” I clipped.

“Nice to hear from you again, Officer Bliss. Problem? I see no problem.” Maurice was cool. Probably not the best way to begin.

“I'm sorry. I just received a call from a hospital in Durham. Ocean is in surgery.” My blood raced too fast.

Maurice swallowed loudly. “I see.” A heavy sigh. “Thank you for letting me know. What can I do to help?”

If I didn't feel a hundred shades of guilty already, I did now. It was me who told her where to find Bazeer. This was my fault. “I'm sorry for putting her in danger, Maurice.”

A pause. “I know, son. I'm sorry you've fallen for someone who will be the death of you. Ah, that sounded a bit final… I didn’t mean it like that.”

My eyes widened. Death of me? I suppose that was true—there was only so much worrying and pacing a man could do. But why were my instincts suddenly sparking? Was Ocean keeping something from me?

Something broke inside.
No
. I wouldn’t let her be the death of me. I would have her by my side and guard her life with my own. She couldn't do both. She couldn't kill and be safe with me. It was stupid to think it would work. “You know what I think? You and me need to work together.” I waited with an anxious breath.

“What do you mean, Bliss?” Maurice asked, his tone sharp but interested.

“An intervention for Ocean's obsession.” An idea bloomed. Yes. If we worked together it could work. “Help me distract her. She's injured. She obviously needs to recoup. Tell her she needs to stop teleporting for a while.”

Maurice chuckled. “She won't agree to that. Even though it hurts her, I've never been able to stop her from going somewhere where she feels she's needed. She isn't like us, Bliss. The urge to save others is too deep. I often wish there was something left in her other than constant guilt that she can't save everyone. Every child she sees is her brother. Every parent is hers. As much as I wish there was a terrified girl in there who just needs some affection, I don't know if there is.” He paused before adding, “Don’t think I’m trying to turn you away; I want you to continue to pursue her.”

My heart stopped beating at the thought. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don't want you to be hurt. You have feelings for her. And I wish you could snap her back to life. But—and this kills me to say as I love Ocean as my own—I think you’ll end up being left behind with nothing but a memory. Which makes me selfish, as I want you to try, even knowing that.”

“And if I don't want that to happen?”

“Then I’ll help you with your plan.” A pause. “If you do something for me, too.”

My eyes narrowed. “Do what, exactly?”

“Who do you work for? I've researched you, Callan Bliss, and you were fired from the Sydney Police. How did you know where Bazeer was?”

My lips clamped shut. I hadn't signed any agreement saying I couldn't disclose who I worked for, but it wasn't public knowledge. Could I trust Maurice? Hell, Ocean loved the guy. That was good enough for me. “I work for the Korean Central Intelligence Agency. I have better contacts now than the Sydney Police. Why?”

“I'm going to email you two pictures. I want you to find the men they depict.”

“Who are you, Maurice? Why do I get the feeling you aren't just an old man living in an ancient house?”

A chuckle. “That's because I'm
not
just an old man living in an ancient house. But I'm not going there with you. Find the men. And you may just get your wish about keeping Ocean.”

My interest level exploded. “Are you going to tell me who they are?”

Maurice sighed, “I think you can guess. Can’t you?”

The way he sounded told me everything I needed to know. “They're the Breeze family killers?” Maurice didn't say anything, but I sensed a nod. “Fine. I'll get started straight away. In return, will you help me with my plan?”

“Fire away, old chap.” Maurice's voice was suddenly lighter. As if he was relieved he'd passed on his burden.

I snorted with laughter. Ocean was gonna kill me. “I want to kidnap Ocean and force her to go to Bali. If I organize the tickets, will you get her on the plane?”

Silence.

Finally, Maurice answered, a smile in his voice. “I'll get her on the plane if you let me organize the hotel.”

I wanted to hug the old man. “You got yourself a deal.”

Chapter Thirty-two: Ocean

I
awoke with a sharp pain in the back of my throat, and the horrid tang of antiseptic up my nose. My eyes were scratchy and raw, as I blinked around the room.

Hospital.

What was I doing in freakin’ hospital?

I coughed, gagging on something obstructing my airway. A tube was down my throat. Claustrophobia sunk fangs of panic into my system. Needles pierced my hand and white starched sheets mummified me, holding me prisoner against the bed as I fought for breath.

A loud beeping grew incessant, keeping pace with my galloping heart.

Get it out of me.
Needles. Tubes.
Get it out!

I couldn't breathe—the tube obstructed everything. Black spots danced in my eyes.
Help!

Footsteps slapped on the linoleum, and a nurse with a black afro zoomed into the room. “Hey, hey. It's okay. Don't panic.” Her movements were fast and efficient as she turned off the beeping and smoothed my forehead. “If you calm down, I'll take the tube out of your throat.”

My eyes were stretched wide as I struggled to calm myself. I nodded.
Please take this thing out of me!

The nurse pulled some tape off my cheeks and slowly pulled the pipe. It scraped my insides, a snake of plastic pressing on my gag reflex. The second it was gone, I gasped, grabbing my throat with both hands. I screamed. “Holy hell, my shoulder.” Not that my voice worked—it came out more like a frantic bark.

“Oh, no. Don't move, sugar. You've been in surgery. Your shoulder will be very tender.”

Tender? It felt as if a hacksaw sliced through sinew and bone. Shit, was this how my parents and brother felt when the chainsaw butchered them to death?

Blistering tears escaped my eyes, and the nurse hushed me. “There, there. You're okay. Relax, dear.”

How could I relax when I suffered through images of my brutalized family? It was horrid, wretched, agonizing. 

Bustling around my bed, taking notes, reading charts, the nurse smiled. “You are one lucky little lady.”

Sniffing, I focused on her and not the past. How did I end up here? What
happened
? I tried to remember, but everything was a dulled. The last I remembered I was at Maurice's, emailing Callan.

Callan.

Tears threatened to fall again. I wanted him. I wanted him to hold my hand and tell me I was okay. Where was he?

Wasn't I supposed to be at his house? Or wait. Had I already been? What day was it?

I turned to ask my friendly nurse, but she disappeared. I frowned. Where'd she go?

The noise of a door clicking closed made my heart rate spike again. A stern man appeared in my field of vision. His black curly hair gleamed against ebony skin, eyes sharp as a sniper’s.

My nerves sky-rocketed. I squirmed—wildfire erupted in my shoulder.

Escape. Leave.
I called my power, but it only gurgled. No strength to free me. My stomach was empty. I was weak as a grasshopper.

The man noticed my concern. “Calm down. I'm only here to talk. Relax.” His tone was low, in an attempt at soothing. 

I didn't buy the nice bedside manner. I gritted my teeth and shuffled upward using my one good arm. “Who are you?”

My eyes never left his as he stole a chair from a small table, and screeched it across the floor. I cringed as he sat close, taking out a pad and pen.

Ignoring me, he asked, “What is your name?” His eyes pierced mine. He definitely wasn't a doctor.

“Name?” My brain whirred. I shook my head. “No questions until you tell me who you are.” I crossed my arms, wincing. Pain wrenched a moan from my lips. My eyes dropped to my shoulder which was swathed in bandages. A tiny bloom of blood doused the middle. My eyes snapped shut and memories crashed over me.

Atsu Bazeer.

The twins.

Stabbed.

Killing Bazeer.

Blood. Lots of blood.

My eyes latched onto the man. He smiled. “My name is Inspector Raine. Do you know who you are?” His eyes told me he followed my awakening.

I was sure memories swam on my face. I couldn't lie about what happened. The only thing I would lie about was the sheer pleasure I felt killing bastard Bazeer. Time to be a demure damsel in distress and play my part flawlessly.

“Do you remember?” Inspector Raine asked, licking the nib of his pen, before poising it expectantly.

I nodded and swallowed; my throat burned. “Yes. I remember.” My voice was not my own. I swallowed again, trying to lubricate it.