Ocean Kills (Ocean Breeze) (11 page)

My eyes narrowed. “Captain what? Finish what you were going to say.” My beer was forgotten. What did Captain Gray have to do with this?

Wade huffed. “Gray asked me to keep an eye on you. There's been a few computer anomalies which originated from the server we use together. Captain Gray called me into his office yesterday to explain the lines of gobbly-gook code, thinking it was me. It wasn’t me, so by my immense powers of deduction, it must be you.”

“Did you tell the captain?”

“What, about your twinkle fingers?” Wade shrugged. “What's to tell? I've caught you doing something in past cases, but it usually meant we arrested the guy, so I didn't care. I love that our solve rate is higher than anyone else in the office, but it does make me wonder about you, Bliss.”

I took a deep breath. I was in the crapper if all my tampering came to light. “What do you wonder?”

“Just what you did in Bali. Who did you work for before the Sydney Police? Why are you my partner? Why aren't you some bigwig detective? You have the skills. Obviously.”

I relaxed. Wade wasn't going to dob me in. He just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity, and fair enough. We were partners and I hid things from him. Not allowed. The rules were pretty clear: a partner should know me better than my wife. Not that that was hard. No one fitted the role of wife, yet.

“I do have certain skills, you're right.” I gave him a grin. “And you're also right in wondering why I'm working as a foot cop.” I took a drink. “Truth is, I didn't want too much pressure. I had my stress overload in Bali; I was content to take orders for a year or so.” I stopped, ripping up one of the napkins. “Now though, I'm thinking I may not be able to conform. I'm used to fighting crime a different way.”

“What way?” Wade asked, eyes bright as he put his elbows on the table.

I laughed. “Let's just say without too many rules or regulations. Any means to catch the bad guy.” My hand curled around my pint glass, slipping on the condensation. “I liked it, Wade. I miss it.”

“And this Ocean woman? Why are you chasing her?”

My eyes flashed to his, reading him. “You're married. What did it feel like meeting your wife for the first time?”

“Like someone fired a round of bullets in my gut.”

I swallowed more beer. “Well, there you go. That's my reason, too.”

Chapter Ten: Ocean

T
he car slowed after an hour; the bright lights of the city gave way to dark shadows and emptiness. The only illumination was from a large house with a long, snaking driveway.

The architect probably aimed for English manor house, but failed ridiculously. The symmetry was all wrong, the portico over imposing for the size of the block. It was gaudy to say the least. And the ginormous tacky lions didn’t help either.

The driver opened my door, and offered me his hand.

Ignoring his help, I unfurled from the car and brushed down my skirt. Nerves frolicked over my skin, but I plastered a confident smile and cocked my hip. “Where should I go?”

“Mr. Bazeer is awaiting your arrival in the dining room. You are to join him for dinner.”

Nice of him to feed me. Poison, perhaps? I’d have to watch him carefully.

I climbed the sweeping steps and entered the foyer. Floor-to-ceiling portraits of the man who was now my employer leered down at me. I wanted to shudder as one above the grand staircase caught my eye: Bazeer was dressed in a burgundy robe with girls of every nationality lounging on a bed, draped over him and pouting for the artist. They all looked about twelve and cracked out of their minds.

My hands curled as black passion oozed through my blood. That beast was close to his last breath. Tonight, I’d do the world a favor. I wanted to murder him as much as I wanted to slaughter my family’s killers.

Bazeer sat at the head of a twelve-seat table, set with crystal goblets and midnight blue cloth. “Ah, my latest girl. Please, join me.” He was dressed in a silver suit and crimson shirt; his black skin gleamed and his eyes glinted with smug evil.

“Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Mr. Bazeer.” My voice was low, seductive. I knew how to play this game. Better than him, probably.

I went to pull out a chair to the left, but he tutted under his breath. “Do not sit. I wish to see what I have bought.”

So I couldn't even have dinner without performing for him. I fought the repulsion rippling over my insides.

“Pardon, sir?” I knew damn well what he meant, but demure was good camouflage.

“Take off that dress.” He licked his lips.

My eyes flickered to the steak knife on the tablecloth. Oh, how I wanted to strike.
Think of Thembi. Patience.

I giggled, flicking my hair. “It took me hours to get into it. I can hardly take it off now.” I leaned forward, biting my lip like the temptress I pretended to be. “Perhaps I can show you later? After business has been discussed?” My tongue traced my bottom lip, never letting go of eye contact. I knew the second I had him. Something clicked in his eyes and he smiled, accepting my challenge. He was a man who enjoyed the hunt. Good to know.

I sat and fanned my napkin. From nowhere, stewards appeared with an entrée of prawn cocktail.

“Where are you from?” Bazeer asked with his mouth full of food.

“I'm from everywhere and nowhere, sir. I like to think of myself as a daughter of the world.”

“Ah, a poet.” He smirked, running a hand down his chin. “We shall see how worldly you are. I expect to know explicit details.”

My stomach clenched; I had trouble swallowing my prawn.

“Do you know how to bring a man to orgasm with your mouth?”

Oh, gag me now. This was not dinner talk. I batted my eyelashes and nodded. “Of course—very well, sir.”
With teeth and a lot of pain.

“Are you a virgin?”

Ah, the difficult question. I studied him. What did he want me to be? A blushing virgin who he could sell for top dollar, or a well-used hussy to teach his girls the art of sex? I saw the answer in his eyes.

Placing my fork down, I wiped my mouth with my napkin and stared at him. “How about we stop playing games?”

His eyes went wide, face darkening; but despite the anger blooming on his cheeks, there was interest there as well.

“I’m well trained in all things pleasurable. I’ve had many masters, and fetch high sums due to my skills, in and out of the bedroom. I’m here before you, Mr. Bazeer, not to pleasure
you,
but to teach your newest purchases how to please your clients—to ensure optimum satisfaction for your wallet, and to generate repeat business. Do I have your attention?”

His mouth thinned, but he cocked his head. The hand holding his fork fisted around the dainty metal.

I glared. I was in control now. He was putty in my hands, as much as he would deny it. “I want a bonus of half a million rand, and I’ll personally train your girls. I’d require absolute privacy and the space to teach. Give me that, Mr. Bazeer, and I guarantee you’ll not regret it.” He wouldn't regret it, because by the time the night was over, I would’ve safely delivered the girls away from him, and he would be dead. Minor detail I kept to myself.

“A business woman.” His eyes rested on my breasts. “And if I agree to your demands?”

I arched for him, cringing, as his lips parted, eyes unable to look away from my chest. “You get what I promised. Merchandise that will bring great pleasure to your clients.”

“And what about
my
pleasure?” he purred.

I couldn't stop my skin from betraying me; shivers of repugnance danced and my stomach quivered.
You're so close. Keep going. It's only sex. . . you've done worse.
I kept my voice husky and alluring. “Your pleasure, sir?” I rubbed a fingertip over my bottom lip. “Well, I'm not sure business should be mixed with pleasure.”

He actually groaned. I was either acting way too well or he was more of a sex fiend than I thought. What had I unleashed? I wanted to throw up my prawn cocktail. An image of Callan's face, full of disgust, made me despise myself.

“I will pay you one million rand.” He clicked his fingers and a butler scuttled from nowhere. The man placed a silver platter with a chunky envelope on it in front of me. “And I will give you what you need to work in private with my girls. However, I have one condition.” His eyes glittered. “You will be available for my pleasure every night. No excuses. No arguments. The deal is done.”

My throat closed. Would he expect me to sleep with him before I saw the girls? Before I could attempt to get them to safety?
Don't think about it. You came prepared to do that.

I fluttered my eyelashes. “You strike a hard bargain, sir, but I accept.” I scooted my chair closer and placed my hand on his thigh, close enough to the obvious hardness in his pants, but not too close that it seemed like a come hither. “However, I must see the merchandise. I must know what I'm working with.” My eyes hooded, and I sucked in a worried breath—it worked in my favor as my corset worked double time on my boobs.

Bazeer stuffed another prawn in his mouth before answering. “Stand up.”

My heart froze, but I unfolded from my chair as soft as smoke. I waited in silence. What would he command?

“Come closer.” His voice was an earthquake, sending my soul shattering into anxiety. My feet were two ton weights, but I did as bid and stood beside him. I hated myself

He pushed his chair away from the table, grabbing my hips to make me stand in the confines of his open thighs. I was trapped. A headache instantly bloomed, power and self-preservation pressuring me to leave immediately.

“You have nice curves.” His hands grasped my breasts, kneading them through my corset. His touch was rough. I bit my lip from crying out. Bazeer noticed my reaction and twisted. “You don't like that?”

I tried to read his body language. Did he want me to say yes or no? My mind was no longer working as skillfully as before. I was too repulsed by his touch. Standing straight, I told the truth. “No. I do not like that.”

He chuckled. “Good. I shall be rough with you. You deserve no pleasure. It is my pleasure I will take from your pain.”

This man was a sadistic prick, and it ate at my soul to nod coyly. “Yes, Mr. Bazeer.”

I gasped as he yanked my corset to make me bend. His fat lips latched onto mine; his foul tongue slobbered in my mouth. I moaned at the grotesqueness.

My hands fumbled in my skirts for the box-cutter I'd hidden on my garter belt. I couldn't do this. I couldn't be so unfaithful to myself. But before I could find my weapon, the rancid kiss was over and he pushed me away so roughly I stumbled.

I wasn't as strong as I thought—tears pressed heavily behind my eyelids. I murmured, “I'm at your command, Mr. Bazeer. Will you allow me to begin my work?” My eyes wouldn’t rise from the black tiled floor. I’d scream like a banshee and attack him if I so much as made eye contact again.

Mr. Bazeer blew his nose, then snapped his fingers, summoning the butler. “Fine. Clark here will take you.”

Clark? As if that was his real name. “Thank you, Mr. Bazeer. You won't regret it.” I stood, taking my bulging envelope with me.

Bazeer held out his hand. Repressing my urge to kill him on the spot, I placed mine in his. My skin crawled with a thousand hideous beetles.

He kissed the back of my knuckles, holding me with demonic strength. “You are mine. You belong to me. If you think about another man, I will kill you. If you try to ruin my business dealings, or do not perform as you have been paid to do, I will kill you. Do you understand, little pet?”

I definitely needed to save the girls—and kill him—tonight. He was too lethal to play a long-winded game with. I smiled sweetly. “Of course, Mr. Bazeer. I understand completely.”

“Good.” He let go. “Till tonight, Ocean. I expect to be well served.” This man was all kinds of awful. “I will be anxious to see you again.”

Keeping my face from betraying me, I bowed a little before sashaying after Clark as he led me down the back of the house, over plush rugs and past more ostentatious portraits of the master. A hidden back stairs lurked behind a cupboard door. It led us up to a level which I doubted I’d see if I went up the front staircase. There were doors as far as the eye could see, all locked with swipe key-card and a bar code.

Crap. They treated these girls like livestock. My teleportation power gurgled and a headache pressed against my temples. I’d save them all. No matter if there were girls behind every door. No matter if I killed myself in the process. I’d save them all.

Clark stopped, handing me a master key-card. “This will open all the doors. Your entry and exit will be logged on the computer, and any chance of escape will be met with severe punishment.” His movements were jerky, eyes strained. His body language screamed that he didn't want to do this, but he hid his thoughts well. Could I trust him to help? I filed that thought away. “How do I get in touch with you?”

“I will return at midnight to take you to Mr. Bazeer. Please prepare yourself for a—” He coughed, embarrassment pinking his cheeks. “A lengthy night of usage.”

I didn't like the sound of that. “Does he hurt his lovers?” I allowed a trace of fear to lace my voice. It wasn't an act. I was terrified I might have to go through with this to save these girls. I’d have to lock my mind away while that monster defiled my body.