WHEN THE OCEAN ROARS
Birmingham, Alabama
When the Ocean Roars
Iron Stream Fiction
An imprint of Iron Stream Media
100 Missionary Ridge Birmingham, AL 35242
IronStreamMedia.com
Copyright © 2023 by Charlsie Estess
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is is a work of ction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for ctional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for ctional purposes only.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023941659
Scripture quotations have been taken from the Christian Standard Bible®,
Copyright © 2017 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. Christian Standard Bible® and CSB® are federally registered trademarks of Holman Bible Publishers.
Cover design by Hannah Linder Designs
ISBN: 978-1-56309-676-1 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-56309-677-8 (ebook)
For my lion-hearted boys. Stay strong and courageous.
God is our refuge and strength, a helper who is always found in times of trouble.
erefore we will not be afraid, though the earth trembles and the mountains topple into the depths of the seas, though its water roars and foams and the mountains quake with its turmoil.
—Psalm 46:1–3
apter 1
“Midas? Are you lost?”
No one ever called him Midas.
Keane Temple blinked, his eyes long since glazed over, straining to make sense of the Japanese characters ashing across a digital display board. e petal-soft voice came from behind but couldn’t be speaking to him. No one should recognize him. Not yet.
He rubbed the back of his neck to loosen up tight muscles— not that the ultramodern train station with its broad spans of spotless glass anchored in polished steel brackets overwhelmed him. Still, he drew in a deep breath, inhaling the smell of hot metal tracks mingled with citrus-fresh window cleaner.
At ten past six in the evening, he’d been waiting on a train in the luxury shopping district for far too long. He turned and surveyed the platform to put a face with the alluring voice. But the lady must be speaking to someone else.
e backlit display cases along the station’s exit wall sparkled with designer accessories. Prada pumps. Diamond-studded Cartier baubles. Vuitton handbags. And in front of that exorbitantly priced glitz stood a bald, sandal-footed Buddhist monk, speaking with a
When the Ocean Roars
young girl with fuchsia hair and surgically shaped Barbie-doll lips. Japan was an island of extremes. But no one else on the platform passed for Midas with his golden touch—not even remotely— except him. Fair-haired with a towering build, Keane must stand out in this crowd.
e ghter in him bristled. He pretended not to hear and regretted taking directions from Hans after practice. A long walk to the train station had sounded like a great idea. Fresh air should combat jet lag and boost his mental game, so he’d passed on his usual, a chau eured Bentley SUV, and headed out. Big. Mistake.
Never take tips from the guy you just face-planted. His sparring partner knew better than anyone how Keane relished control and hated the unexpected, and given Keane’s supreme dominance in the ring, practical jokes let easygoing Hans get in a good jab. It lightened the mood in the gym, especially during the stressful days leading up to the World Championship.
Nevertheless, that joker was going to pay on Monday. Keane could have been back to his Westin suite by now, unwinding in the steam room. De nitely no more trains.
“Midas?” e sweet singsong stroked his senses again before a string of giggles chased it.
e muscle in his jaw twitched. He wadded the fake directions in a st, scratched through his unruly lion mane, and spun to face the schoolgirls swarming the base of an escalator. In stylish skirts and designer pumps, they must be the college variety. But with all those high-end shopping bags, they sure weren’t struggling through university the way he had.
“Are you lost?” the young woman repeated in awless English. And did that honeyed voice carry the slightest hint of a British accent? His gaze landed on the exquisite creature at the center of the pack. She had the strong presence of a ballerina, and the way her bamboo-green dress showcased her gure brought a warm tightness
to his chest. Dainty ngers covered a timid laugh, but her un inching gaze leveled on his with enough heat to keep him staring far too long. Her chin gave a de ant tip, breaking his hold over her and letting him know she wasn’t about to be ignored. “Are. You. L—”
“Maybe.” e admission came out huskier than intended. His irritation melted, and despite e orts to veil any interest, a lopsided grin tipped his mouth.
“You are the American ghter, yes?” e lady adjusted her purse straps on her narrow shoulder, glided forward, and unleashed an unforgettable smile.
“Yes. And you know me?” He was well-known in the States— but Japan? He hadn’t expected the pre ght publicity to be out for another week and had hoped to ride a wave of anonymity until then. With a long stride, he closed the distance between them and extended a hand. “Keane Temple.”
As she took it, she dipped in a bow, and a waft of perfume drifted in his direction. He breathed in, trying to identify the tantalizing spice. A note of pepper. And perhaps mandarin?
“My name is Ami.” A rose ush bloomed across powder-pale cheeks, her lips easing back into that lovely smile. He was all too familiar with his e ect on women. Most he encountered weren’t of the keeping sort. But the ne-boned fantasy before him—a sleek cascade of obsidian hair owing to her trim waist—stirred something long latent.
How long had it been since a woman a ected him with such swift intensity? Drawn him with such ferocity?
She chuckled again, slid back a step, and turned to her friends to re o a series of phrases in Japanese. After questioning glances and awkward waves, the other girls rode the escalator. “So”—she faced him—“I will take you home now.”
“Pardon me?” He half coughed at the brazen statement. Still, a wave of dark amusement rolled through his mind.
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“You are lost.” She waved toward the exit. “ e Japanese do not give directions. Our way is to help someone nd his destination. What is your address?”
Come to think of it, hadn’t he read about that hospitable custom in his Fodor’s Travel Guide on the plane ride over? He searched her kind face. But was a twinkle of interest lurking in her eyes? “Ichibancho. e Westin.”
She swiveled to examine a nearby map of the train lines and then studied the ickering schedule board. “Sendai Station is closest—not far from where I attend university. We should wait here for the next train.”
“You seriously mean to come with me?”
“Of course.” ose dark eyes were unreadable, but her body swayed toward him as naturally as a ower craning toward the sun. “You could get lost again.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want to keep shopping with your friends? I’m pretty good with directions.”
“No. I want to help.”
e heat of her perusal rolled over him again. Her gaze reconnected with his. Her pupils ared under his intense scrutiny. With four US Championships to his credit, he had maneuvers that could break the ercest men, let alone takedown moves that could level a woman to her back with nesse. And yet, this woman—some rare species holed up in a glass-and-granite jungle—remained undaunted.
“I’m done shopping. My mother used to say life never fails to deliver the unexpected.” She arched a delicate brow. “I’ve always preferred the unexpected.”
“But . . .” He swallowed the rest of the words, a broad smile stretching out his mouth. Were all Japanese women this feisty? “I can’t argue with that, and company would be nice. ank you.”
e tracks began to hum, and wind wailed through the station as the next train approached. “ is is it.” She caught his elbow. e
automatic doors hissed apart, and she slipped onto the train and anchored herself to the support pole nearest the doors.
He followed, dipping his head through the entrance, his body skimming hers as he cut past a tangle of travelers to grip the oorto-ceiling steel rod beside her. “Is it far?”
e pneumatic doors sighed shut, and the locomotive began to whir along. He made small talk to staunch his restlessness. Since childhood, he’d hated con ned spaces, and friendly banter helped bury the unwelcome claustrophobia.
Ami only shook her head as she bit at her lovely lower lip. And he suspected he knew why. A heady charge in ltrated the cramped compartment, making him aware of how his stature dominated it and pressed into her personal space. “What are you studying at the university?”
Her face relaxed. “Geophysics. e graduate program is wellknown here, but my undergraduate work was at Oxford.”
She must have been older than he’d pegged her but still ve or six years younger than he. Oxford explained her pro ciency in English. But geophysics? Wow. “So, what, you study the earth and gravity?”
“Yes, but I have a particular interest in seismology—plate tectonics and volcanism.”
He scratched at the stubble on his chin, likely failing to hide his growing fascination as she gushed about her studies and passion for earthquake awareness. “What can I say? You impress me. And there must be plenty of research opportunities around here.”
Her gaze dropped at the compliment. Gorgeous. Accomplished. Caring. God, is she real?
“ is is it.” She pointed, her words hauling his thoughts in a di erent direction. As the train eased to a stop, she braced against the steel pole with the control of a ballerina back at her barre. “See, there is an ocean mural on the station wall. It might help you remember.”
When the Ocean Roars
Outside, Keane paused to admire the cityscape, shifting from the ashing lights and jingling payout noises of a pachinko gaming parlor to the more serene street scene. e mild tension from the train drained from his shoulders as he absorbed a blend of street smells— wet concrete, ripe apple from a corner fruit stand, and rich roasting co ee carried on the breeze. An early sunset lit re in the vibrant blue sky, gilding the scattered rain clouds and turning ordinary street puddles into shimmering mirrors of nightlife. Short-trunked trees, heavy with spring buds, oversaw the bustle of Sendai’s avenues and infused deep-green life into the sea of boxy o ce buildings.
“You like the greenery?” She cocked her head, one well-sculpted brow rising again.
Man, she was something. Grinning, he hooked his hands on his hips. “How’d you guess?”
“In your green eyes. So bright now.” She shifted her purse. “Did you know this is e City of Trees?”
“No, but it lives up to the name.” He raked a hand through his tousled hair, appreciation guiding his line of sight. “Which way?”
She aimed a nger at a street sign and ambled toward the damp sidewalk. “ at is Ichibancho.”
A icker of recognition registered. “We’ll have to cross. My place is there.” He motioned toward a luxurious building complex wrapped in glass. At the intersection, they scu ed in lockstep with a mass of professionals making their evening exodus.
On the opposite side, two o ce towers bookended a row of traditional Japanese structures with tiled hip-and-gable roofs. A tea emporium. A noodle restaurant with the standard waving fortune kitty. A booklover’s bookstore. A ne stationery shop. A European co eehouse. All in all, Sendai was a charming city. He shortened his stride to swing with hers as they meandered through the crowded block, letting her lead when necessary. But when she glanced over her shoulder, her dark irises drifted over
him. Was she interested in being more than hospitable? Perhaps going out?
e restaurants would be lling up soon. He could invite her to dinner, even though going on a date was against his better pre ght, stay-focused judgment. But then again, he was shot and sore after a full training day. A cold shower and sleep were musts before heading anywhere.
“Keane?” Her voice drew him out. “ is is it. Do you think you can nd your way inside?” Her easy laugh bolstered his courage.
“ at’s debatable, but I think I can manage.” He ashed a smile, and she nodded, her foot inching back as if she were turning to leave. On instinct, he reached out to touch her elbow and stepped toward her. “Hold up.” e sudden proximity produced some maddening chemistry that made his words come out low and husky. “Look, tomorrow’s my only day o from training. I’m no good at nding my way around here. Spend the day with me.”
“I already have plans.” She wasted no time in responding, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her interest.
He slid closer, his gaze never wandering from her face. “Change them.” As she weighed his proposal, he sent up a silent plea, praying she’d agree.
She scrunched her dainty nose, but then her mischief evaporated. “I will, but staying in town is not good for me. I could show you one of my favorite places, just outside the city. I will pick you up.”
Oh, you already have. For the rst time in years, a hard, hot bullet of anticipation pierced him deep. “Sounds good. But allow me to arrange for a car.”
“Okay. Eleven o’clock?”
“Eleven it is. Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” she said with a bewitching blush, then pivoted. After watching her leave, he crossed the wide street, hustled through the Westin’s swank lobby with its polished marble oors
When the Ocean Roars
and plush furnishings, and rode the mirrored elevator to the top.
en the penthouse’s thick mahogany door clicked shut behind him, and his steps echoed in the cavernous room. With the curtains tied back to frame the oor-to-ceiling windowed wall, the remaining glow of sunset ltered through and silhouetted the low couch and table. ere was no television, per his request. Just furniture. A simple kitchen with a well-stocked fridge. A grand bedroom reduced to a no-frills space with a Japanese futon and a marbled bath. Sumptuously Spartan.
He preferred bare-bones living. Like it was when he’d been an angry kid learning karate at his local church. Without karate, where would he be? at after-school program—not only the healthy outlet ghting provided but also Pastor Ray’s steady encouragement—pulled him through his nightmare childhood and gave him faith, a sense of purpose, and a profession. No distractions, especially women, had always been his fail-safe standard before a championship ght. And he’d come to Japan for one reason—to win the Ultimate Fighting World Championship.
God, help me stay on the narrow path.
He steeled himself against the mind-consuming chemistry still lingering like an unshakable fever. Didn’t want it. At least, not right now, if he were honest.
After a reheated dinner of broiled chicken and a broccoli-rice blend, he stripped, showered, and slid into the futon. He tried to read but just stared at the pages. Hu ng, he traced circles around his temples with his ngertips and attempted to visualize sparring drills. Counting down, less than two weeks remained until the match of his life. He’d spent decades pushing his body and honing his mental game. And he’d need to bring it all to take down Niko Ono, the re- sted Japanese giant approaching legendary status. But try as he might, there Ami was, an irresistible angel, appearing against the backs of his eyelids. Where she was concerned, going cold turkey
was the sole way to defeat distraction, but this distraction would be showing up in the morning. Why had he asked her out? He didn’t even have a number to call and cancel.
One day with her. at’s it.
E“You should have seen him,” Ami crooned. Even in black performance joggers and a matching hoodie, the broad-shouldered build of a man in his physical prime was evident. She’d recognized him in the station but never imagined he’d be so striking. So golden. Undefeated all year. e serendipitous nature of their encounter summoned an old Japanese saying: seiten no heki-reki, a thunderbolt from the blue. e devastatingly intense attraction struck just like that, electrifying her. eir meeting was no coincidence, right?
Even so, she was playing with re. But why should that stop her? He didn’t need to know who she was. Some things were better left untold, especially when the man would be in the country only a short time.
“What happened?” Knees hugged to her chest, her roommate curled up on the couch. “And do tell all.”
Ami hooked her purse on a peg by the door, breezed across the marble-tiled foyer, and sank into the cushion next to Mika with dramatic air. “I will give him a tour tomorrow.”
“Did you tell him who you are?”
Ami shook her head, her lips pressed into a hard line.
“But honesty—”
She waved away the reproachful glint in Mika’s eyes. “Keane only knows me as me, not because of my family. And I want to keep it that way.”
“And what about Ichiro?”
Ah, Ichiro. e man her father expected her to marry. Ami
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ddled with the thin ruby-studded ring she’d inherited as a young girl. “What about him?” She cringed at the ippant-sounding words. “Keane is here a few weeks at most.”
“And then?”
“And then, Father’s plan. Just not before I have some fun of my own choosing.” She tucked her long legs underneath her. “He. Is. Magni cent.”
“It’s true. at sandy blond hair and those jade eyes. Ami, he is gorgeous.” Mika giggled, making her angled bob bounce along her jawline. “You missed the evening entertainment news. e anchorman said Keane ghts like a brute and has the staying power of Methuselah.” Her eyes widened before she clapped a hand over her mouth to sti e another snicker. “Even your father would be pleased.”
“I beg to di er.” Drumming her palms on the charcoal suede seat, Ami shot Mika a think-about-it look. “You’re like my sister and know me better than anyone. Why would you even say that?”
“His net worth is pushing three billion yen. But there’s more. I am the queen of recon.” With a playful grin, Mika wiggled her shoulders. “You’re welcome.”
“ ank you.” Ami winged out her elbow and gave Mika’s arm a chummy poke. “So, what did you nd out?”
Mika picked up her phone and let her index nger swirl back and forth over the screen. “Between his prize purses and sponsorships over the past ve years, he’s done really well and achieved more-than- ghter status to become one of Houston’s richest and most eligible bachelors. He’s heavy into real estate investments, like your father. Sits on a start-up’s board. Last year, he organized a huge fundraiser to bene t military families in honor of his friend, a fallen soldier. ere’s not much on his family or personal life.” Mika glanced up. “But—you’ll love this—he puts on a monthly karate tournament for up-and-coming ghters at the place where he learned.”
Ami absorbed that. She pulled the length of her jet-black hair
over a shoulder, twisting a long lock. “ at would get Father’s attention. Most women, too. But a man’s net worth isn’t my concern.” A long beat passed. Staying at the top of his ghting game, coupled with that kind of business success, would take serious acumen though, as well as incredible initiative and grit. e news didn’t get everything right, but if even half of what Mika said turned out to be true—well, a surge of respect lled Ami. “Keane was inquisitive on the train. I liked that, but it also made me nervous.”
e span between Mika’s brows furrowed. “Because he might nd out?”
“You mean about my family’s net worth?”
Obvious disappointment crumpled Mika’s expression. “You know what I mean.”
“He won’t.” Ami grinned and nudged her friend’s shoulder. “Not where I plan to take him.”
EA closing bell’s distinct clang rang through the quiet. Drenched in a cold sweat, Keane jolted o the downy futon, arms thrashing.
e sound came again.
He fumbled with a light switch and spotted the source. He punched a button and jerked the phone to his ear.
“Not funny, Mark,” he chided his longtime coach and manager. “You messed with the ringtones again, didn’t you?”
Mu ed laughter crackled in the receiver. “I remember you, Keane Temple, requesting a comprehensive battle strategy extending beyond the gym walls. at ringtone serves as your reminder of the task and should keep the sense of urgency real for e Golden Lion.”
“ e what?”
“Japan already has a literal Golden Temple, so that’s what they’re calling you here. e Golden Lion. Ha. It’s all over the papers. e women love it. And here I thought you needed a haircut.”
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Keane ignored Mark’s ramblings. “What time is it? And why are you calling me?”
“Half past ten. We need to get a fresh publicity picture of you now that that adored mane of yours is messier. And pronto.”
“Hasn’t that already been done?”
“No, it hasn’t already been done.”
Great. He could hear Mark rolling his eyes. “But someone recognized me last night. I gured—”
“Get used to it. You’ve hit the international big time. Try enjoying it. Does three work?”
“Can’t today.”
“Why not?”
“Personal plans.”
“Personal plans?” A lengthy pause buzzed. “Keane Temple, Mr. I Don’t Date While Competing, has plans during the day?”
Keane clenched his teeth at the heckling, refusing to bite. “Yes, I do. And, no, they can’t be changed. Work out the photo shoot for some night this week.”
e sound of papers shu ing popped through the phone line, followed by a groan. “I’ll see what I can do. But behave yourself.”
Right. is time he rolled his eyes. “You just said to enjoy myself. So, which is it?”
“Sure. Savor the local cuisine. Don’t let it spoil your long game. Especially with all the endorsements on the line. Rumor has it Ono’s in town as we speak. And you’ve come too far to—”
Keane jammed the red End Call button, tossed the phone on the chair, and dropped to do a set of push-ups. He didn’t need Mark to repeat the concerns already lashing his brain. Unwavering physical and mental discipline drove his success, converting him into a powerful man. But how often had he made sacri ces over the years? Driven by a bold belief that human limits can be pushed, transforming man into the realm of something greater? He sidelined his last
serious relationship, and while he felt extraordinarily blessed, a dull ache radiated through his chest. Could it be longing?
Of all times, why did a woman drop into his life now? Terrible timing to ponder heavy thoughts when he’d just met the girl. And yet, thinking of Ami made him want more. e chemistry warmed his blood, pounded through his body, knocked at the door of his heart. But with two weeks till the biggest bout of his life, he’d keep that door shut.
One day of fun to get her out of his system. Nothing more.
Eyes on the championship prize.
Simple, right?