Ocean Kills (Ocean Breeze) (37 page)

The barbecue was buffet style. It was a good test to see how much he’d give me. 

I watched his every move. The grey shirt he wore with black shorts looked sharp but casual. His tanned skin and sun-kissed hair fit perfectly with the other sun obsessed guests. He moved flawlessly, powerfully, and turned my insides molten. As much as I looked forward to dinner, I was looking forward to dessert more.

My mind flitted back to the charge of emotion between us in the lobby. He looked at me with everything bared. It was as if he let me inside him, allowed me to inspect his soul. It both terrified and enthralled me. He was unique.

Callan put a plate in front of me. “Ta da. Cooked it myself.” He sat with a grin, picking up a crab pincer, ready to dig in.

I eyed my plate. Holy crap, could he be more perfect? There were two bread rolls, three types of fish, crustaceans, salad, and french-fries. There was so much food it almost overflowed the crockery.

“There's plenty more if that isn't enough,” Callan said between mouthfuls.

I looked him in the eye. “And if I told you I could eat three of these and still not be full, what would you say? Gross? Or thank goodness, a woman with an appetite?”

He laughed. “Do you need to eat extra because of,” he lowered his voice, “teleporting?”

I blinked.

“I sort of guessed by how emaciated you were when you popped into the station with Emily Snow.”

How much did he pay attention to? He seemed to know me better than I knew him.

“Will you tell me about it? How you do it?” he asked.

No one ever asked me that question before. Not even Maurice. How did I do it? I had no freakin’ idea. The power was just there. It stole the calories in my molecules to jettison me from place to place. I couldn't put it into words.

I shrugged. “I don't really know. But you're right about the food. I do need to eat to port.” Then added, “When I saved those girls I lost four kilos in one night.”

His eyebrows rose. “Surely that isn't good for your body?”

I stiffened. “It doesn't matter if it's good for my body or not. I'd do anything to help others avoid. . .” My voice drifted. I hadn't meant to lead the conversation down this path.

A glint appeared in Callan's eyes. “Avoid what happened to you?”

I squared my shoulders. “So what? No one should have to go through that.”

Callan reached out and took my hand. “Don't get defensive. I agree. No one should have to live with that. But at the same time, people must live their own lives. Bad things happen, Ocean. You can't protect everyone.”

“You sound like Maurice.”

“Perhaps it’s because we both care for you, want to keep you safe.” His eyes darkened. “In fact, it's safe to say I'm furious with you.”

“
Excuse
me?”

“You almost got yourself killed by being reckless chasing Bazeer. You should’ve been satisfied he was about to be arrested. I wouldn't have let him get away with it. Bars would’ve been good enough to keep him away from girls. You didn't need to risk your own life by killing him. For every psychopath you kill, there are hundreds more. You’re fighting a losing battle, believe me. I know. I’ve worked in law longer than you.”

I glanced at the other occupied tables. “Keep your voice down,” I hissed. I couldn't believe he went there. Did he really just hint I should
stop
? That whatever I did I was not
good enough
? That I should let people be raped, mutilated, and murdered? I couldn't find words, I was so angry. At least this time it was my own anger and not some other entity trying to control me.

His eyes glued themselves to my shoulder. “Ocean, I worry about you. Maurice worries about you. I want to get to know you—to care for you, to—”

I slammed my hand on the table. He couldn’t do this. It was time to crush his ideas that we could be together. Couldn’t he see I was doing him a favor? I was messed up. My head was screwed, my priorities all wrong. I r
efused
to drag him into hell with me. “Stop it. Right now.”

He flinched.

“You have no rights over me. You have no reason to care what I do with my person, or who I hunt. You promised you wouldn’t interfere—well, newsflash, you're interfering. Zip it.”

It was fascinating to watch anger roll off him. Amazing to watch his control as he reined himself in and visibly relaxed. His hand unclenched around his beer bottle as he swallowed his temper. “You're right. I'm sorry.”

My eyes widened.

“We're here to have a good time. No more arguing.” He saluted me with the beverage.

I chinked his toast with my cocktail. “Well, okay then.” I smiled. The tension of the conversation disappeared. “Let’s talk about you for a change. You’re keeping secrets.”

His entire body froze, eyes shut down. “What do you mean?”

Hang on. Why the crazy body language? I narrowed my eyes. What was he hiding?

I took a bite of lobster. “I don’t think you’re a cop.”

Callan visibly relaxed. “No. I was fired.” He laughed. “Not something I should be proud of, I know. But I’m much happier in my new employment.”

Uh huh.
So I was right about the secrets. “Who do you work for? Are they responsible for shutting down Bazeer’s operation so fast?”

He took his time answering. “The agency is called the Korean Central Intelligence, and yes, they took over tidying up Bazeer’s sex trafficking business. You don’t need to worry. They’re very thorough.”

I had a lot of questions about his new employer, but my eyes fell to the bandage around his wrist. “I noticed that earlier. What happened?” I reached out and caressed his palm, running fingertips over the gauze.

Callan took a deep breath, eyes darkened. He looked at me with a hooded gaze. “Shark attack.”

My mouth fell open. “Shark attack? Are you serious?”

He rolled his eyes, shuddering a little as I ran my finger up the splattering of hair on his forearm. “I was stupid. Went for a surf in the middle of the night. I was lucky it was a baby shark. I fought him off. I doubt I’d be sitting here if its parents fancied a bite.”

My heart squeezed at the thought of Callan injured. Hurt. Dead. I ran from the idea it hurt too much.
I’m in too deep already. Ocean, you’re in huge trouble.

I let go off his arm. “Bobbing around in the ocean on a board sounds like a death wish to me, regardless of the time of day.”

He chuckled, eating a mouthful of salad. “Didn’t it occur to you, I was drawn to you because of your name and that I love the ocean so much?”

The air shimmered instantly with desire. His eyes shot heat and lust right into my belly. I pressed my thighs together. “And here I thought it was because you couldn’t resist me in my hooker outfit.”

My snide comment broke the spell between us. We both laughed.

“Tell me something completely random about yourself,” Callan said.

I cocked my head, thinking. “Um, my favorite sound in the world is cracking the top of the sugar on a crème brulee.”

He paused for a moment, then chuckled. “That is pretty random.”

“You?” The minute I asked, I wanted to take it back. This was dangerous: learning about each other’s quirks. Dangerous for my heart. 

He fiddled with the bandage around his wrist. “Ahh…” Then his fingertips flew to his jaw, tilting his head. “Can you see this scar? I got that by asking one of my little sister’s friends out. I thought I was pretty cool, being nine years old and all. She didn’t. She hit me around the face with a massive stick from the garden. Earned me a few stitches.” He laughed, dropping his eyes to my own stitched shoulder.

“Seems like you make a habit of chasing women who are bad for you.” My lips twitched.

“Apparently.” Callan smiled.

The remaining dinner passed in nice company. The lobster was divine, the crab heaven on a plate.

“Care to take a walk?” Callan stood after we finished.

The night was balmy and begged for lovers to stroll beneath the silver sheen of the moon. How could I say no? As long as he behaved and kept his protective instincts locked away, I was more than happy to go with him.

I smiled as we left behind the twinkling lights and sprawling pool with three waterfalls.

The instant our feet sunk into soft sand Callan took my hand. I stiffened. For some reason holding hands hammered my heart. It was too comforting, too familiar. It affected me more than a kiss.

The beach was lined with pretty resorts, each sparkling with lights, and draped in scents of dinner. It was a magical place.

“I'm jealous you lived here for five years.” My voice was too loud for the cicada-laden air.

Callan grinned. “I wouldn't be jealous if I were you. I lived in a crap, cockroach infested apartment. I barely stopped working. It was grueling. I couldn't take a break for long. There were too many men to catch.”

I frowned. Callan suffered the same compulsion I did. How did he not see I
needed
to work? He spent five years never stopping—what a hypocrite to tell me to halt.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he muttered, “I stopped working when I realized I was killing myself in the process. Working sixteen hours a day wasn’t something I could keep doing. So, I quit.”

His look was pointed. I ignored it.

“Plus, my family is in Sydney so I wanted to be closer. Especially now that my little sister is pregnant.”

Was this part of the bargain? Talking about our families, getting to know each other intimately? “I think we should keep to topics that don't have a lot to do with us,” I blurted.

“What?”

Great. Now I had to explain. “I think it’s safer if we don’t get to know each other too well.” Safer for him, as he’d be repulsed to learn just how atrocious my thoughts were turning.

His hand wrenched out of mine. “That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard!” His voice was gruff. “You're being dense, Ocean. I want to see if we can make this
work
. How do we do that if you don't want to get to know me? I'm dying to know about you. I have so many questions about you, your gift, your passions. Stop being so difficult.”

Shit, we were going round in circles. He wanted to know the real me, but that could never happen, as the real me was drowning in inkiness. To shut him up, I pulled his t-shirt, and kissed him.

Callan sucked in a breath, his chest brushed my own. I pushed my tongue into his mouth. His arms came around me whip-fast.

This worked for us. We were safe when words weren't being said. We were compatible with lust flowing in our veins.

Callan's teeth touched mine as he deepened the kiss. He tasted of beer and his own unique spicy, salty smell.

I moaned, pulling him closer. Every inch of my body was on fire. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted him to make me relax and take away my worry, guilt, and urge to hunt.

Strong hands crept up my back, skimming over the fresh scars of my whiplashes. His tongue was potent in my mouth. The kiss held every nuance of feeling and trepidation of what we were doing.

Callan broke the kiss, breathing hard. “Come.” His voice was husky with need.

We ran down the sand toward the water and a small boat with a balancing ballast that rested on an angle, painted with greens, reds, and whites. It was purely ornamental for the tourists but it was shrouded in the night, away from prying eyes.

Callan picked me up and pushed me over the side. I went willingly. My stomach was full of dolphins doing tricks. My mind was blessedly blank apart from the hot lick of need.

He scrambled over the side to join me, and I latched onto his mouth, kissing him roughly, ripping his shirt. Not caring I was a little wild.

A sound was wrenched from him as my fingers skimmed his chest. I worked my way down. Most of my attention was focused on the slippery dance of Callan's tongue, but I had enough ability to brush his erection and tug his zipper.

“Ocean. Stop.”

I shook my head. “No. Here. I want you here.”

Callan growled and kissed me harder, his fingers fumbled with my dress, pushing it up over my thighs. He sat on a piece of wood meant to be a bench. I straddled him. My hands worked his zipper, desperate to spring him free.

He shifted to help me and groaned when he found I wasn't wearing underwear. “Shit, woman. What are you doing to me?” His fingers didn't hesitate, stroking me, branding me, slipping into my heat.

I bit his ear, wanting to bite hard until I drew blood. I tugged his erection free, caressing the tip. Callan surprised me by shoving my hand out the way, grabbing my lower back, and pressing me down. My core connected with him and my mouth popped open as he pushed up. It was invasive, sudden, and I moaned as I was impaled on him. Holy hell, we worked well like this. My entire being was stretched over him, every inch of my skin afire.

My head fell back in ecstasy as Callan thrust once. He pulled me back to kiss him.
If anyone was to walk past now. . .

Callan tore his mouth from mine, kissing my neck, nuzzling me as he pushed up again. The movement sent comets racing behind my eyelids. I was on a knife’s edge. The need to release made me clench around him. I sighed as he bit my shoulder.

A headache bloomed, probing behind my eyes.
No!

Even though I recognized my power-pain, warning me I was close to teleporting, it didn't stop my hips from rocking. The natural movement of joining together took over.

Callan panted, straining upward. “God, you feel incredible.” He kissed me as I clawed him with sweaty fingers. “Ocean—I… I need you.”

The desire in his voice resonated deep in my belly. More pain in my temples. Too intense.
Too much
.

Something snapped in Callan. He growled again, one hand grabbed my hip, the other supported my shoulder blades. His thighs bunched as he drove into me harder.

Each thrust increased my headache till it pulsed with heaviness—a burst of rainbows in my brain. I froze. I was perilously close to vamoosing.

I cried out, clenching against Callan's thrusts. “Stop.”

He swore something not in English, ignoring me. The heat of him, the feel of him blossomed my headache to migraine. The boat swayed, the ocean roared, and Bali flickered like an illusion. “Stop!”