Calm Before the Storm (3 page)

Irina found herself mesmerised by his lips
as he told her his name. Luscious. That was the only word she could use to
describe them. How would they feel pressed against hers? Heat rushed to her
cheeks. More embarrassment as she realized he couldn’t fail to notice.

Dragging her gaze from his beautiful,
sensuous mouth Irina focused on the words on the page she had read so many
times. Ugly words. Brutal words. Words laid out in black and white in the
manila file she found she did not want to believe equated to him. There was
more going on here than the obvious. There had to be. How could she possibly be
feeling the way she did toward someone…evil?
Whatever this feeling was.

Trying not to analyze her reactions, she
took a breath and fought to regain her composure. “Look, Tyr.” Irina glanced up
from the file, her eyes holding his, struggling not to drown in the deep pools
of pitch. She blinked, resurfacing, shook her head. “I…I want to help you…so
you need to give me something to build a case on…for your defense.”

His eyes turned the blackest black as she
said his name. Tyr trapped her with their intensity as he asked, “Do you think
there’s anything to defend?”

“I hope so.”

He flinched, and she knew he had heard her
whisper as the door creaked open announcing the guard’s arrival.

“Time’s up, Miss Columba.” The voice sliced
across the thin thread of the connection, cutting them apart. Irina stood up fumbling
to push the papers back into the manila folder. Tyr’s hand brushed hers as he
helped gather them toward her. A sizzle of electric pinpricks. Irina drew back
her hand as Tyr did the same. They were both standing now.

“Little Dove,” he whispered, betraying his
knowledge of her Italian heritage. He lowered his head, drawing closer, his
sensuous mouth breathing heat into her ear. “Can you do something for me?”
Irina nodded, swallowing to catch her breath as the force of his proximity
enveloped her senses again, causing her heart to stutter. She struggled with
the urge to melt into his heat and the solid wall of his chest. “Can you
contact Sal’s wife Leah for me? I need to talk to her.”

“I’ll try,” she said, exerting all her
willpower, forcing her feet to move in the direction of the door. Exiting the
room, Irina paused for a moment, the compulsion to turn back and take a last
look an irresistible pressure she could not ignore. As she turned to gaze at
the tall man who stared at her with such a solemn expression in his eyes of
pure darkness, she thought she heard him say, “Come back soon, little dove.”Words so soft that she thought perhaps she had imagined them.

Tyr Bellor sat back against the wall having
returned to his cell and clenched his fists in frustration. A spiral of
confused images bombarded his brain as he replayed the recent conversation with
his new lawyer. Lawyer! She was a mere girl, a child but…her voice. He could
have drowned in that voice, would have enjoyed doing it. The moment she had
opened her lips to speak, her voice had wrapped a soft silky blanket around his
body, the honey tones rubbing erotically over his skin. He could still feel the
tingling sensation in his chest. But it wasn’t just his reaction to her voice
that had him confused and reeling, it was those amazing eyes. He struggled to
remember where he’d seen them before. They were so…familiar.

A sudden punch to his gut as those amber
eyes slammed into focus. He could hear the intense stadium noise around him. At
the fight! Her eyes, on the way to the ring! How could he forget? He had fought
for those eyes. The memory crashed into him with sudden clarity and not for the
first time. Those stunning eyes had been in his dreams every night since that
day.

Tyr pictured the scene again, remembering
how the adrenaline had raced through his veins, heart pumping pure
anticipation, eager for the fray. Then sudden shock as fiery molten gold
claimed his attention and for a fraction of a second everything around him had
stilled. He had found himself in that calm space at the center of a hurricane,
his heart thundering in his chest, slamming violently as if revived by a
hundred thousand volts.

The connection severed, Tyr had entered the
ring with one thing in mind, to win and see those eyes again. Of course he had
been victorious but had looked in vain at the end for that face in the crowd,
as his jubilant team had ushered him from the ring to the obligatory
celebrations. Tyr relived the crushing sense of disappointment at their absence
remembering how he had also left the after-party early, his enjoyment of the
victory tempered by the sense that something was missing.

Since that day, despite the initial
whirlwind of his triumph and then the subsequent despair of Sal’s death and his
implication in the murder, his one anchor in the storm had been the remembrance
of those eyes. The hollowness of their absence now replaced by a liquid warmth
that soaked inexorably into his chest as he pictured her beautiful face. Irina
Columba. He had a name now, not just a face. And she was just like her name. A
little dove, a haven of serene calm, she fluttered on the edge of his
consciousness, amber light in the black chaos that threatened to consume his
mind.

Tyr blinked his own eyes shut, struggling
to combat the darkness that intruded, helpless as it merged into another face.
Sal. He had to be strong for the sake of Sal’s family. He needed to talk to
Leah, Sal’s wife. His thoughts flew back to the day he had first met Sal.
Saleos Black. Highly respected in the boxing world as a trainer and sporting
legend in his own right, Sal was a former world heavyweight champion and since
retirement had set up the premier gym that had churned out winners on a regular
basis. But Tyr hadn’t known that at the time. No, he had been a dumbass,
ignorant kid. All he had seen that first day was a lithe, fit, middle-aged man
with graying hair and eyes to match. He now knew that what he had seen had been
a lie. Most of his life to date was a lie.

Tyr had been taken to the gym by the man
the street gangs knew as Aamon Abrasax. The man he once thought had saved him
from a life of hardship and struggle just because he had seen the fighting
potential in the feral orphaned child he had been. As an unwanted orphan, Tyr had
no other means of survival but to work the streets, running with a pack of
hooligan vermin, constantly battling with anyone and everyone. Lawless
scavengers, they laid claim to the city, stealing, fighting and marking their
territory. Society had no means to deal with the problem that had grown to
epidemic proportions over the last number of years. Chaos and disorder had
ruled his life. Abrasax had seemed like a godsend.

He now knew that Abrasax’s philanthropy was
a lie. The street gangs were in fact unwitting pawns, leashed to powerful men
who used them ruthlessly, inciting them to violence for their own ends. However
in some ways Abrasax
had
saved him. Certainly his life had changed at
that point and his rise to become a respected boxer and athlete had been what
every kid on the street dreamed of. As his reputation increased so had his
wealth and for the last few years Tyr had been living the dream. He’d
supposedly had it all. Until now. But as recent events had proved, he was still
just as much a pawn as he had always been. Albeit now he was a famous one.

It was his instinct to fight and never give
up that had brought him to Abrasax’s attention and to Sal’s gym fourteen years
ago. He had been just fifteen and angry. Sal’s gray had eyes had appraised him
thoughtfully as if he knew more about Tyr than he did himself. Tyr remembered
the conversation, even now, as if it were yesterday.

“So,” he said slowly, “this is the boy.”

Abrasax nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “He
has a lot of…potential.”

Saleos Black lifted his eyebrows at
that, his cool gray eyes boring holes into Tyr’s brain as if he could see right
through him. His hand came up to touch Tyr’s shoulder. Tyr flinched. An
involuntary response, not knowing what kind of touch to expect. Sal made
contact with his shoulder in a firm grasp. “Can you fight, boy?”

Tyr nodded. He had been fighting his
whole life. His fists were his armor as well as his only weapon against the
harsh reality of life on the streets. Sal threw him some gloves. “Show us what
you’ve got.”

He motioned to one of the lads in the
corner to get into the ring and Tyr followed him under the ropes. He lifted his
hands, which felt strange with gloves on. He was used to bare skin, knuckles
and bones, fists colliding in ferocious impact. His opponent danced around him,
all fancy footwork and cocky pride. “What you waitin’ for? Come and get me
then,” the lad taunted, bouncing up and down on his toes.

Tyr watched and waited, turning slowly
on the spot, his mind projecting ahead, anticipating his opponent’s next move.
“Come on, lads!” he heard Sal shout, “get on w—!”

His opposition suddenly thrust out a
right hook followed by a jab. Tyr immediately blocked and responded with a
fierce succession of punches that left no doubt as to the raw power he had at
his command. His opponent went down.

Hard.

“Whoa! Fuck!” He heard a breath from
Sal. “What was that, twenty seconds?”

“Train him up, Sal,” he heard Abrasax
say, “and clean him up.”

“Sure thing, Boss. I don’t think it’s
gonna be too difficult.”

With that, Abrasax left and Sal threw a
towel over Tyr’s shoulder.

“Come on, son, let’s talk.”

After that day, Tyr had essentially become
a part of Sal’s family. Not just the family of fighters at the gym but almost a
son. No dammit! He had been a son. And Sal’s wife Leah the only mother he had
ever really known. Tyr had lived with them over the gym for five years before
his career took off, and their two daughters Melanie and Delora had gradually
begun to treat him as if he were an older brother. He needed to talk to them.
Explain.

He also needed to find out if what he had
learned the day Sal died was true. How much did they know? Everything he had
believed was a lie. Abrasax had lied. Even Sal had lied. His thoughts became
tangled as he tried to unlock the truth. His lids closed and he saw a face,
her
face. The little dove.

Tyr felt the inexplicable draw again. How
ironic to feel something now when for so long he had felt only numb and
desensitised, devoid of any real emotion. The thumping in his chest increased
its rhythm again as he thought about her return. Would she come back or would
she see him as a lost cause and hand him over to someone else? The truth was he
couldn’t afford to be distracted. He couldn’t explain Sal’s death away because
he didn’t understand it himself. He needed to get out of here, confront Abrasax
and fight for some answers. He felt the stirrings of a plan as his brain began
to puzzle out a strategy. He was only sorry that he might not get to see those
beautiful amber eyes again.

* * * * *

“How did it go?”

Irina jumped in her chair as Cassi’s voice
encroached on dangerous thoughts that kept on resurfacing, no matter how hard
she tried to push them away. “Sorry, I was just thinking about a case. How did
what go?”

Cassi entered Irina’s office her eyes
narrowing. “Famous celebrity in jail for murder. Seriously do I even need to
ask?”

“Oh that.” Irina struggled to sound casual.
Even now those dark eyes were hovering over her, the sheer magnetism of his
gaze impossible to escape. “It was fine. He wouldn’t talk though.”

“Odd.” Cassi was frowning at her as if
searching for something in her expression. “You usually have better luck.”

“I know, but he’s…he’s really,
really…stubborn.”
And infuriating.
And sexy, don’t forget sexy. No!
Do forget sexy
. “He’s definitely hiding something but I don’t know what.”

“Are you going back tomorrow?”

Irina sighed. “I guess, although, if he
doesn’t start talking to me soon maybe someone else should take on the case.”

Cassi perched herself on the edge of the
desk. “I could come with you tomorrow, as backup.”

Irina snorted. “Good lawyer, bad lawyer.
Which do you want to be?”

“Oh you know me; I can be very, very bad or
very, very good!” Cassi laughed. “It all depends on the situation. Now, for Tyr
Bellor I might be persuaded to be very, very bad and I’ll just bet he’ll be
very, very good.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Those biceps! Mmmm, imagine
all that raw muscle, oh and have you noticed his lips? They are lickable!”

“Cassi!” Irina was indignant. “He’s a
client not a candy shop!” Her cheeks burned at the thought of Cassi doing very
bad things with Tyr Bellor. No, no way. That would not be happening. She would
need to keep Cassi away. He was hers…her client. No one else’s.

Cassi gave her a smirk. “Oh and I suppose
you haven’t thought about him in that way and your newspaper clippings were
just for posterity—ouch!” A stress ball bounced off the side of her head. Cassi
picked it up and quirked an eyebrow at Irina. “Nice shot. Do you know you’re
blushing, glowing in fact?”

“Cassi! Will you stop! He’s just a client.
Now go, I’ve got work to do.”

Cassi jumped off the desk. “I’ll go and
leave you to your daydreaming. Who knew that you were pining over a boxer?” She
ducked out of the room grinning before Irina had the chance to get another shot
on target.

* * * * *

Cassi left Irina’s office and immediately
made a beeline for Merak’s. Her grin fading to concern, she entered to find
Merak concentrating on a pile of paperwork. He looked up as she came toward
him, his smile disappearing as he gauged her mood. “What’s happened?”

“Irina.” That one word was enough.
“Details?” he asked.

“Her aura is glowing, pulsing. The
pale-blue color has intensified, it’s deeper, richer. Merak,” she whispered
unsteadily, voicing the miracle she thought to be true. “I think Irina has met
her duality.”

Merak took the news more calmly than Cassi
had expected. Irina’s aura, the signature trail that marked her as special and
proclaimed the existence of the unique essence she held, could only be seen by
trained eyes. For years Cassi had monitored any fluctuations waiting for change
but expecting none. Now Irina’s aura was enhanced, the first sign that she had
come into contact with the individual who held the opposing essence. Her
duality. Her other half.

“Is it who I think it is?” She knew Merak
asked the question hoping that it wasn’t true. Cassi’s nod confirmed their
worst fears. It seemed that Tyr Bellor, like Irina, potentially held an essence
that made his existence of fundamental importance to her, the one man in the
universe who would prove to be either a blessing or a curse. Their meeting was
one Merak and Cassi had hoped for but never thought to see, because in a
universe this large, the probability that two such beings would ever meet was
miniscule. But when they did, there were always fireworks.

“Has the Taijitu appeared?” Merak asked.
The Taijitu mark, the yin-yang symbol of balance would only appear on their
skin to confirm their pairing after close contact of a special kind. Not the kind
of contact Irina would indulge in after just one meeting.

“No, they haven’t gotten that close yet.”
Cassi laughed. “You know Irina. Little Miss Caution. She’ll need a push in that
direction. I’ve been trying for years to hook her up with Luc, just in case he
was the one but you know she’s never taken the bait.”

Merak frowned. This was of vital
importance. An essential aspect of their role as Irina’s protectors was to
nurture the connection between duality pairs. “Any ideas on how get the ball
rolling in that direction?”

Cassi smiled. “She’s already a little
proprietary. My guess is that a little jealousy will go a long way. There is
something holding her back though. I’m not sure what it is. I’ll go with her
tomorrow and get confirmation.”

“Okay.” Merak sighed. They both knew that
whatever decisions were made now, Irina’s fate was on a knife edge. Cassi knew
he loved Irina as if she were his own child but he had to let fate run its
course no matter how much he wanted to protect her. “I’ll inform the Concordia,”
he said, referring to the council of elders who directed their cause. “Do what
you can to keep her safe. I have to wonder why we didn’t know about Bellor
before now.”

“I think there must be a shield in place,
which would mean he’s already been identified by the enemy.” Cassi voiced his
fears out loud.