Calm Before the Storm (2 page)

It wasn’t until half an hour later when she
met up with Cassi, dressed much more casually in jeans and blouse that she
realized where they were actually going.

Irina gaped, open-mouthed, at Cassi as she
registered where they were and the crowds streaming into the arena. “A…a boxing
match! You might have told me!” she managed to stammer, flapping her arms at
herself to indicate how overdressed she felt. Cassi Shedir, her now ex-best
friend patted her arm as she would to calm an excitable child. “It’s fine,
Rina,” she said, dragging her onward with a Cheshire cat grin. “We’re in the
VIP box, corporate lawyers, clients, assholes in suits…you know, bigheads with
big wallets and small…”

“Cassi!” Irina cut her off. “That’s even
worse! I don’t want some leering arrogant city type trying to bullshit me about
how great he is, all that testosterone flying around, plus the fighting. Two
guys pummelling each other to a pulp just isn’t my idea of a fun night out.”

“Then you can hide in a corner, drink
champagne and talk to Luc.”

They were now at the VIP entrance and as
Cassi drew to a halt, a tall figure just in front of them turned with a wide
smile drawing Irina into a crushing hug. “Hey Rina, Cass.” He smiled warmly,
embracing Cassi too and kissing her cheek. “Thanks for wangling the extra
ticket for me. Can you feel that atmosphere? I am so looking forward to this!”
Cerulean-blue eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Hi, Luc,” sighed Irina, rolling her eyes
at his enthusiasm and resigned now to her fate, hours of testosterone-fueled
punches and bullshit. “Guess I should’ve known you would be into it.”

Luc was their flatmate. They had met him at
university, Cassi and Irina both studying law and Luc majoring in architecture.
The three of them had hit it off instantly becoming a tight trio, their
friendship a lifeline to Irina after the devastating loss of her family when
she was a child.

Luc was smiling broadly at them, his
elation evident. A keen spectator of all types of gladiatorial conflict, he was
a martial arts freak who trained five times a week in a variety of disciplines.
His obsessive training meant that standing in front of them was a fine specimen
of the male species, six foot two, athletic, honed muscle in all the right
places, and as such, he was the object of many admiring glances from the
wannabe VIP girls hanging out around the roped-off entrance.

Irina had no problem understanding why. His
short-cropped blond spiky hair was cut slightly longer at the front so that a
few strands fell across his eyes. Eyes that were so blue they seemed almost
unnatural, reminding Irina of tropical skies or the reflected blue of an island
lagoon. The VIP groupies wanted to brush his hair away and drown in his eyes.
Heck, sometimes even Irina wanted to do that but only because the straggly bits
irritated her. Luc was just a friend, a very good friend, but she had never
thought of him in any other way, even now when he looked pretty hot in black
jeans, a black buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket. He waggled his eyebrows,
making her laugh with his naughty-boy grin, so she didn’t resist when he hooked
his arms for both of them to grab and ushered them toward the entrance.

“Let’s go, ladies, the fight of the century
awaits, Bellor versus Taylor! It’s going to be a classic!”

Once she finally grasped the reality of the
situation and just who would be fighting, it was only her grip on Luc’s arm
that kept Irina standing. A a churning sensation in the pit of her stomach sent
waves of heat washing over her skin, every nerve ending taut with anticipation.
She was going to see…him, be close to…him. Tyr Bellor, her never-to-be-revealed
most secret obsession. With every hot flush that crashed through her veins the
butterflies swarming in her chest danced a riot that set her heartbeat racing.
Brain fogging, she fought for composure, the crimson warmth in her cheeks a
sure giveaway.

Thankfully Cassi and Luke were too caught
up in the excitement of the event to notice, and Irina managed to calm herself
with the thought that in a stadium of over thirty thousand people, how likely
was it that he would be anything but a tiny, miniscule dot in the distance?

So how she had ended up, dizzy,
disoriented, not six feet away from her fantasy obsession was a complete
mystery.

The corporate box had been exactly as Irina
expected, full of deathly boring egos and bad chat-up lines, most of the guests
more interested in the sound of their own voices than watching the early bouts.
Irina had been grateful for the distraction and very happy to follow him when
Luc suggested getting nearer to the action. Mainly to get away from the
corporate suck-ups, she told herself, not to get closer to the fight and…him.

Needing little encouragement, even from
Cassi who had practically insisted they go off together, Irina followed her
flatmate, chewing her lip nervously. Luc being Luc pushed a way for them both
through the rowdy spectators, the VIP passes provided by her boss working their
magic. A sudden roar as the crowd bellowed loudly, and Irina’s ears were
assaulted by a frenzy of cheering, shouts and whistling as the two main
protagonists emerged from the tunnel to her right. Both men were hooded, but
Irina immediately felt the buzz of barely contained energy that emanated from
the figure closest to her in red as he tracked a path to the ring.

And then he was there. Close enough to
touch. A whisper away.

His head swung to the left as he passed by,
a freeze-frame moment, two dark eyes locking onto hers, dragging them both into
a vortex, that dark, still space of existence. A gaping black hole opened up
before her. Time and the whole of eternity stood still. The space around them
dissolved and Irina found her gaze snared by twin black holes that widened for
a split second beneath slashing ebony brows. As they expanded, she experienced
a wild rush of adrenaline, her body spiralling into freefall, the compulsion to
simply lose herself in the darkness of his eyes, so overwhelming she was
paralyzed by it. His head turned, jostled by the ocean of the crowd. The
connection broke and Irina was left shaking, deafened by the sudden barrage of
sound and crushed by a devastating sense of loss.

Trembling, Irina grabbed on to Luc who
steadied her with strong arms but was too busy cheering to notice her reaction.
The rest of the fight was a complete blur. Irina glimpsed snippets through a
red haze of noise and motion. The fighters in the ring, the hustle of coaches
and trainers, the referee trying to keep them apart before the bell sounded,
the surge of battle, fists flying, a block, a jab, a flurry of uppercuts, bones
cracking with the force of impact.

Blood. Guts. Sweat. Everything she hated.
Violence. Rage. Anger.

The thump of bone onto canvas and the
racing of her heart pounding as an arm punched the air in victory. Her one
overriding memory at the end of the night, the jubilant face of the man who
haunted her dreams and nightmares, triumphant in all his bloodstained glory.

A door slamming across the hall broke Irina
away from her disordered thoughts. She needed to get it together. She was
seriously cracking up. But why now? Considering the way her family had died, it
was a miracle she was still sane. What she had experienced could have sent her
down a very different path to see her shattered and in pieces. But though she
still carried it with her, Irina had not succumbed to the constant pain of
overwhelming grief. She had hung on, clinging to the thought that her parents
and sister would want her to survive for them. For she had been given a chance
to live when they had been given no chance.

That her life had been spared by a pair of
ebony eyes that drew her, against all reason, like a magnet, was a
contradiction that could soon be answered. Tomorrow.

Her bruised soul shook in anticipation.

The last few weeks had been exhausting, the
justice system straining to cope with the aftereffects of recent summer riots,
bombings and attacks on government buildings. The resulting heavy-handed
tactics employed by government had fueled a wave of civil unrest toward an
authority whose policies were unpopular with majority of ordinary folk.

For lawyers and solicitors, the ensuing
anarchy had led to a slew of cases, meaning that Irina and Cassi had been
working overtime for the last few weeks. The situation was unprecedented.
Disorder and disenchantment were rife. The economic crisis at the beginning of
the century had left deep scars on every continent. Many wounds were still festering
and instability was a constant calling card. Irina herself could not remember
any extended period of calm during the past twenty-five years of her short
life. It had always been like this.

Crisis. Confusion. Chaos.

Somehow though, people managed to carry on,
weathering the various storms as they arose, bracing themselves against the
constant battering of upheaval. But now there was a sour taste in the air.
Tensions were rising. The country was teetering on the edge of disintegration
and people were scared with the military calling for curfews and blackouts. It
seemed that the whole world was walking this same tightrope as news reports of
conflicts and skirmishes on all continents were a daily occurrence.

Walking down the street the following
morning toward the police station where her next client was in custody, Irina
tried to convince herself that her current state of anxiety was surely more to
do with the rising chaos in the world and less in anticipation of her next
appointment.

A ten a.m. appointment with Tyr Bellor.

When she arrived at the station, Irina was
surprised to see armed police officers at the entrance. The anxiety she already
felt ratcheted up another notch. This was a high-profile case with a
high-profile client. There was a lot at stake and not just for her.

Once inside, she was happy to see a
familiar face, Leo Aldhafera, a detective she had worked with on previous
cases. He greeted her warmly, brown eyes smiling.

“So you pulled the short straw?” he said,
shaking her hand. “You’ve got a helluva job with this boy. Tyr Bellor is a
tough nut and he doesn’t look like he’s going to crack anytime soon.”

“Well, I’ll just have to chip away at him
then,” she replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

“Best get your hammer out,” joked Leo,
quirking an eyebrow. “You’ll need a big one. The guy is huge!”

“Sounds like I need a pneumatic drill if
he’s that big,” Irina laughed, trying to ignore the raft of butterflies taking
flight in her chest. Her nervousness increased. In just a few minutes she would
be meeting
him.
“I’ve been fully briefed,” she continued with a
determination she hoped she could maintain, “and I intend to give it my best
shot.”

“If anyone can get him to talk, you can,”
Leo said. “Merak made a wise choice sending you. I believe you could coax blood
out of a stone with that velvety voice of yours.”

Irina flushed. She knew she had a
reputation for having a voice that could charm even the most hardened criminals
to offload their secrets, the guys at the station often making a point of
drawing her into conversation just to listen to her speak. However it wasn’t
something she liked to play on and her nerves were already on edge with
anticipation, so rather than indulge Leo with more talk, she asked him to
direct her to the interview room and inform her client she was waiting. Leo
settled her in and disappeared to arrange for Bellor’s arrival.

Sitting at the table, Irina took stock of
her surroundings. The room was an airless, windowless gray space, bare apart
from the table and two chairs. She took out the manila file and arranged the
papers on the desk, her fingers refusing to be still as she waited, shuffling
the papers and then rearranging them again. And again. Until finally after what
seemed like hours but was probably just minutes, she heard the click of the
door as it squeaked open.

Irina didn’t need to look up to know who
had entered the room. Static energy pulsated through her, the thrumming buzz of
it leaving her weak. Dizzy but determined, she lifted her head to acknowledge
his arrival and was left breathless, gazing helplessly as two black-as-night
eyes swam into focus and Tyr Bellor, world heavyweight champion boxer, stalked
into the room. All six foot four of him.

The room suddenly seemed to shrink as his
presence enveloped the space, creating a magnetic force that held Irina immobile
and sent a spike of adrenaline racing through her veins. Heart pounding against
her ribs, she could only stare, having lost all ability to move.
Heaven help me…

Something snapped between them. Tyr Bellor
withdrew his gaze, strain evident in the taut muscles around his neck. “Who are
you?” He was nothing if not direct.

Irina’s pulse fluttered at the deep gravel
tone, his voice dark velvet gliding over her skin as she shivered in response.
“I’m one of your lawyers…Irina Columba.” Her reply sounded shaky, even to her
own ears but she managed to hold out a hand, fighting to hide the faint tremor
and keep her fingers steady.

He ignored her hand and sat down, broad
shoulders blocking her view of the door. “Where’s the other guy?” His tone now
was hostile. Suspicious.

“You didn’t seem to be saying much, so they
sent me instead,” she replied as evenly as she could, aiming an encouraging
smile in his direction.

He raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you
think I’m going to talk to you, little girl?”

Was he serious or just trying to rattle
her? He had already managed that just by walking into the room. Irina sucked in
an angry breath. What was it about him? This guy was violent, most probably a
criminal, a murderer for goodness sake! Yet she couldn’t help but feel an
inexplicable draw toward him in a way she could not begin to fathom. Her brain
fought to resist and remain professional as she responded to his insult.

“I am fully qualified, Mr. Bellor…”

“Really?” His skeptical gaze raked down her
small frame. “You look like you just graduated school.”

“Well you look like you’re just back from
raping and pillaging!” she snapped back, hackles rising. Irina clamped her
mouth shut, gritting her teeth in annoyance and shock at the clearly
unprofessional response. She was usually so calm, so controlled.

Her skin burned as she tried to focus on
anything other than the masculine predator in front of her. Unfortunately the
room was basically empty apart from the table at which she sat, so that was a
lost cause, and in any case her eyes were strenuously resisting any break in
contact with his face.

And what a face! She had known he was
handsome, but now…up close…those black, black eyes, dark like an endless night,
and well-defined cheekbones that were surely carved by a master sculptor.
Chiseled planes of perfection.

His jaw was cut sharp and the light dusting
of dark stubble that played across his chin enhanced the raw animal masculinity
that made him just…beautiful. No, not beautiful. He was too male, too savage
and too earthy to be just beautiful. No, not beautiful but—stunning. The kind
of stunning that would make it almost impossible for any woman not to feel some
jolt of attraction.

“I can’t believe I just said that!” Irina
stammered flushing red with embarrassment, at the same time struggling to fight
against the magnetic pull.

“Well my name
is
Norse in origin,”
said the man sitting across from her, with a smirk. “And that
was
a
favorite pastime of many of my ancestors.”

Rolling her eyes skyward, she tried to stop
the corners of her lips twitching in amusement, noting that he was staring at
her mouth with an expression that suggested he wanted to lick it. And didn’t
that thought just knock her for six!

“Mr. Bellor.” Irina breathed in deeply
trying to gain a sense of equilibrium. “Shall we start again?”

“What do you want to know?” The gravel
tones in his voice catching her right in the solar plexus, the sensation
causing her to fight for breath.

“Your side of the story.” She managed to
get the words out, hoping she didn’t sound as if she were panting or deranged.
God! What was he doing to her? Fighting hard for control, her brain managed to
switch into gear. “You have been charged with the murder of Saleos Black, your
coach.” Her eyes flew to his, trying to gauge some reaction. Though his large
body remained still, it was wound up tight. A coiled spring. Ready to pounce.

A predator surveying his prey.

Irina squirmed inwardly under the intense
scrutiny but persisted. Despite everything, this man was her client and she was
a professional. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“No comment.”

The new lawyer pinned him with her amazing
amber eyes. “Look. I don’t know why you’re refusing to talk,” she said and
shook her head. “But staying silent, that’s not going to help you. You need to
let us represent you by talking through what happened. Then maybe we can see
what kind of plea to go in with. Right now it doesn’t look good. All the
evidence points to your guilt and until you talk it’s going to stay that way.
I’m here to make a case for you, Mr. Bellor, but I can only do that if you talk
to me.”

Tyr Bellor couldn’t remember ever being so
intrigued by a woman. Surprised that his day was taking a turn for the better,
he sat back and carefully observed the young woman in front of him. She was definitely
a welcome change from the middle-aged suit they had sent the day before. Not
that it would make any difference to him who they sent. He still wasn’t
talking. Although she was the kind of woman who could almost make a man forget
what he was saying. Either that or he would say just about anything to get her
into bed.

His fascination increased when she failed
to hide her smile at his claim of Viking ancestry, and he found himself
mesmerised by the molten liquid gold of her eyes, amber lightning flashing in
anger.
Temper. Nice
. She should be running from him, screaming in
terror, not challenging him, her fiery response drawing his gaze to her lips.
And what lips!

Cherry-red and full. Lickable. He wanted to
lick them.

His friend twitched in agreement.
Down,
boy
.

Taking his time, Tyr let his eyes rake a
path up and down her slender form, noting the very feminine curves her formal
suit could in no way disguise. She was frowning at him now as if she could not
believe what she had said. But she had thrown down the gauntlet and he had
never been known to refuse a challenge. Was she declaring war? He sure hoped
so.

Damn but she was fine! Especially with her
cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with flame.

The hair that framed her elfin face was a
dark chocolate confection of shoulder-length curls, complemented by pale creamy
skin and a light dusting of freckles across her nose. Breathing in the scent of
her challenge, he felt a sudden urge to kiss each of those freckles. A wave of
lush exotic lilies and passionflowers slammed into him with the power of a
force-ten gale.

Damn and double damn!

Tyr could feel this woman invading his
senses, the temptation to indulge in the warmth seeping through his skin, so
strong he was shocked by it. More shocking still, a pulse of energy shot a
rapid burst of electricity that seared into his brain even as he fought for
some logical explanation for the attraction. His cock twitched again.
Okaaay.
So much for logic
. He scanned her face intently. She was regarding him
with no small amount of fear. For some reason, he didn’t want her to be afraid.

Not wanting to appear threatening, Tyr
relaxed back into his chair, letting the liquid wave of her voice, so cool, so
serene, wash over him. This slip of a girl was an oasis of tranquility and he
felt…calm. Such calmness he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He would rather
sit here listening to the music of her voice than think about the reality of
what had happened to Sal. He was still struggling to understand it himself.
Recent events were now clouded, veiled in an illusion that he had failed to
decipher. Since arriving at the station he was beginning to think that what he
had seen could not possibly have been real. Maybe he was going insane? But
here, with
her
…something was different. The reality of his life was a
storm, a rage of catastrophe, one disaster leading to another but she…for this
brief moment in time, was easing that chaos, making him feel… He shook himself
out of it. He did not
want
to feel.

“What do you think happened?” he asked. A
sudden burning need to know her thoughts. Did she believe him a stone-cold killer?
Would she run from him if she met him on the street? What would she do if she
knew some of the things he’d done in his life?

“I am not here to speculate, Mr. Bellor,
you need to tell me.”

She sounded frustrated. She also thought
him guilty. Tyr was under no illusions that he was in deep with no concrete
means of escape. He found himself wishing he had met her under different
circumstances. He badly wanted to wipe the suspicion from her eyes. But that
was impossible. If he told her the truth, others would be in danger. For the
moment his lips were sealed. It was just a great pity they weren’t sealed over
hers. What would they taste like? Jesus! He blew up that image in his head but
it took a lot of explosives to do it.

“Tyr,” he managed to say, the shrapnel in
his brain fusing into another thought. How would his name sound on her lips?

“I’m sorry?”

“My name is Tyr.”

Irina clasped her hands together in
frustration. This man was an enigma. She had come prepared to be repelled by a
brutal thug, in no doubt of his guilt and expecting to see in him one of the
torturers responsible for the annihilation of her family. Instead she saw
something else. Felt something else. God help her! She was wrapped in a coil of
fascination that had wound itself around her so tightly that she already felt
there was no escape. There was something hidden beneath the façade he projected
to the world. She was in no doubt of his power, his strength, could see his
warrior blood oozing from every pore. He was the kind of man who would fight to
the death to get what he wanted. But she had also felt his keen intelligence,
heard the steel in his voice.