Ocean Kills:Book One of Ocean Breeze(9)

By: Jade Hart

A low growl formulated in my chest. I froze. Where the hell did that come from? She was nothing to me. A conundrum, that's all. The cop in me couldn't rest until it understood how she pulled the disappearing trick. Bloody woman.

“Just look for it, will ya?” I was not in the mood for his attitude. Coffee. I needed coffee.

“Sure thing.” He disappeared into the gloom of towering filing cabinets. How anyone worked in that cave was beyond me. I would never admit it, but claustrophobia clawed. I needed wide open spaces. Probably why I loved the ocean so much.

I slapped my forehead. That's why I thought her name was awesome. I fucking loved the ocean. Why wouldn't I have been drawn to someone named after the sea? I was such a loser.

Steveo returned with the file. His face green. Shit, he read it. He had no right, her story was hers. It shouldn't be reading material for the likes of Steveo, who owned more penthouse mags than I did newspapers.

I snatched it out of his hands. “Next time I order you to fetch, you keep it closed.” My voice bordered on feral.

Steveo's blue eyes widened. “Crikey. I meant no disrespect, Officer Bliss.” He drawled my name impertinently. His cocked eyebrow put me in my place.

“Sorry, mate. Cheers.” I flashed him an apologetic smile and sauntered out of the filing dungeon. By the time I threw the file on my desk, my computer link was active and ready to search.

Ocean Breeze. ENTER.

The system kicked in. Within seconds I captured all the arrest warrants of one Ocean Breeze, born: 18th of April, 1988.

Shit, the girl got around.

Five arrests in Australia, and I guessed a few more she either expunged or was too young to have added. Her infractions included disrupting the peace, larceny, and domestic interference. Nothing major. Oh, hang on—grand theft auto was kind of major.

I wiped off the grin that stupidly stuck to my lips. She was quite a character.

I pulled up her mug-shot and fingerprints. The mug-shot was taken three years ago. I leaned closer to the computer. Her eyes—they were different. Slivers of blue danced with black—like a fractured orb—a jagged mixture of the two, but definitely more blue than black. Was she wearing contact lenses last night?

Her hair was different too. In this photo she wore it as a short black bob, cut with a precision slice along her jaw. Her entire outfit was a rockin' Japanese animae. This really wasn't helping me keep a cool hunters head. I found Japanese animae characters smokin' hot.

Christ, this girl was stunning. Stop ogling the criminal, Callan. The only reason I was doing this was to find answers to how she disappeared. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Wrenching myself from the photo, I glanced at her fingerprint. Then took a double look. Huh. That was strange. The swirls and patterns of a normal fingerprint were disrupted. A vague shadow, a few lines, distorting into nothing. Either the guy who recorded it was drunk, or something was seriously odd. The same problems existed with the ones we took last night. Only parts of her print showed up. Yet another reason to hunt her. My mind burned with questions.

With her file open, and my stomach rock hard from rereading the details of what happened to her, I did a search for known contact details or aliases.


Why was I not surprised? The woman seemed too smart for her own good.

I leaned back and cracked my knuckles. Running hands through my hair, I prepared to do some creative computing. I had secrets of my own.

I told Ocean the truth when I admitted to living in Korea on a school exchange. Who knew my exchange family’s father would turn out to be a ninja-hacker and take me under his wing? Mr. Kim was responsible for a lot of my unusual skills and habits.

Needless to say, the Sydney police force didn't know about my special talents. It wasn't exactly legal, but I had a knack for finding people who didn't want to be found.

And I wanted to find Ocean Breeze.

Chapter Four: Ocean

I paced through the age-stained cobble streets of Manchester, pondering my next move. England was a totally different planet compared to Australia. The atmosphere seemed brighter in Aussie, the horizon a deeper teal, the sun an orb of flaming gold. Here, in England, everything was grey. From the drizzle misting from the grey sky, to the concrete pavements mirrored in grey buildings. Luckily, I could escape whenever I wanted, otherwise depression would crush me. I wanted eye-shattering brightness. Exoticness. Heat.

Sea-foam eyes slammed into recollection, followed quickly by a semi-naked figure in the surf. Officer Bliss had lived in Bali. Surfing, relaxing. Lucky freakin' cop. Bali was one of my favorite places. The vibe was so chilllax—something I needed. I didn't know how to unwind. A constant drive urged me forward. If I didn't keep hunting, keep purging, then guilt was an intolerable affliction stealing my soul bit by bit. I could never stop.

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