Calm Before the Storm (6 page)

“What do you think of him?” asked Cassi
later that evening as they sat on the sofa, going over notes on the next day’s
cases.

“Who?” Irina tried to appear casual as she
sipped the ice-cold prosecco Luc had just poured.

It was obvious to whom Cassi was referring,
but Irina preferred to pretend ignorance. In reality, she had spent all day
trying really hard
not
to think of him. And that kiss. Her lips still
felt warm where his had made contact so briefly that she kept wondering if the
moment had actually existed at all. She knew it had, but what horrified her
most was how her body had reacted so fiercely to his touch. She remembered
feeling as if her bones had melted, her cells becoming liquid, her breath
turning to vapor. It had taken all her energy to force resistance from her
brain, the overwhelming impulse in that second to sink her whole existence into
his, a fusion of body and soul. The memory of the imprint of his mouth on hers
still resonated, a heated volcano in her blood.

Luc’s ears pricked up at Cassi’s question.
He was sitting at his design table working on plans for a large skyscraper
project his company was developing in New York. Turning to Irina, he narrowed
his eyes suspiciously, piercing her with the intensity of his cerulean gaze.
“Oh, that’s right,” he said. “You met the boxer/murderer, innocent until
proven, again. So what’s the verdict, set-up stool pigeon or psychotic lifer?”

“Hard to say at this point,” Irina replied.
“He hasn’t given up one thing about the case yet. I think Merak will need to
see him. My supposedly persuasive voice hasn’t had any luck.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Cassi
interrupted. “After you ducked out this afternoon, he told me he was ready to
make a statement tomorrow.”

Irina’s stomach churned. “Well that’s good
news. He can give his statement to Merak.”

“The thing is, Irina,” said Cassi, a
strange vibe in her tone, “he told me that he will only give it directly to
you.”

This caused her stomach to flutter at the
fact that he wanted to see her again. “Why? Anyone can take down a statement,”
she replied, hoping she sounded utterly unconcerned.

“Well… If you want to know what I think,”
Cassi began, “I think he took a little, or should I say, a
big
shine to
you.”

Luc laughed out loud at that. “That’s just
so perfect and ironic. Irina, little Miss Pacifist, and the big violent
warmonger! You don’t even like the sight of blood. I’m still surprised you
managed to stay upright at the fight last week. At one point I thought you were
going to keel over, you looked so pale.”

“He’s not as bad as that!” Irina blurted out
before she realized what she was saying.

Her flatmate’s jaw dropped in astonishment.
“I can’t believe this,” he said shaking his head and prowling over to the sofa.
“Miss Pacifist defending the violent. Do you actually have a thing for him?”
Luc’s blue eyes bored into hers with suspicion. Cassi remained where she was,
an innocent but slightly smug expression on her face.

“No. No of course I don’t!” Irina denied
vehemently. “But innocent until proven, as you said.”

“It’s okay, Irina,” Cassi cut in. “I understand
completely. The guy has a body made for sin and the face of an Adonis. Who
wouldn’t want to give him the benefit?”

“It’s nothing like that,” said Irina
feeling the warm blood rising to her cheeks. “I just like to hear the facts
first and we still haven’t heard his side yet.”

Cassi pounced triumphantly. “Which is why,
Miss Pacifist, you are going back tomorrow to take his statement!”
Done and
dusted!

* * * * *

The next morning, Irina leaned back against
the kitchen counter, hugging a mug of hot, strong black coffee to her chest.
Lost in a tangle of confused emotions, her brain kept mulling over the events
of yesterday. What was happening to her?

She shivered as a pair of black,
dark-as-night eyes intruded into the knotted mess of her brain.

Those eyes. Ebony. Obsidian darkness. Black
holes drawing her in with a force like gravity.

Inescapable.

Magnetic.

Compelling.

Even more disturbing, that kiss. Had it
even happened?

“Rina!” A voice shattered through the chaos
of her thoughts dragging Irina back to the reality of the kitchen. Luc was
standing in front of her. “Hey!” he called loudly, waving his hands in front of
her face. “Rough night? Or are you just daydreaming again?”

Irina scowled. “Why does everyone think I’m
always dreaming?”

“Duh! Because you are. Now move over, Miss
Columba, I need some coffee.” Luc grabbed the pot and poured. Irina turned and
moved away to sit at the table.

“Irina! What the hell have you done to
yourself?” exclaimed Luc. “You must have been completely out of it last night!
How much did you drink?”

Wrinkling her brow at him in confusion,
Irina turned to meet his incredulous gaze. “What are you talking about? After
we finished the case notes I went to the pub for a couple of drinks with Cassi,
that’s all. I wasn’t out of it,” she denied. “Then I came home and went to
bed.” Truth be told, she had really needed those drinks, her nerves completely
frayed by the emotions that had risen to the surface during her strange
encounter with Tyr Bellor.

“After you went to the tattoo parlour you
mean!” Luc’s expression was one of total disbelief. Irina shook her head at his
weird outburst. “What are you talking about? Are you crazy?”

Luc stared at her. “No, but you obviously
are.” His brows furrowed in the face of her continued confusion. “Do you really
not know what I’m talking about?”

“No. I don’t.”

Luc pulled her up by the shoulders and
swivelled her back to the mirror that hung on the wall.

“Where did you get that?” he asked
pointedly.

Craning her neck around, Irina endeavoured
to look over her shoulder and could not stifle a gasp of pure shock as her eyes
focused on a small—
thank god it was small—
round yin-yang type symbol
etched onto her left shoulder. At least it was similar to the classic yin-yang
symbol, except it was just an outline of the shape and lacked the blocked-in
areas of the black and white original.

“What the…” Her voice trailed off in
suspicion. “Luc, rub it off!” she ordered, not waiting for him but licking her
palm and rubbing her hand across it. Nothing happened. The mark refused to
budge as if drawn on with indelible ink or, god forbid, tattooed permanently
onto her skin.

Luc stared at her in amusement. “It’s got
nothing to do with me, Rina. No joke!”

“Yeah, sure! Why are you laughing then?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders, a bemused
expression on his face. “Because it’s funny! I think you need to retrace your
steps from last night.”

Just at that moment Cassi walked in, honey
blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders, still damp from the shower.
“Hey, guys, what’s up?” she asked, eyes flicking from one to the other. “You
both okay?”

“Cassi, is this your idea of a joke?”
Turning quickly Irina held the offending shoulder in Cassi’s direction. Cassi’s
mouth made a small “o” of surprise and her eyes blinked wide. Immediately her
expression changed and Cassi was laughing hysterically. “Wow! You got a
tattoo!” she stammered between gasps. “That’s amazing. I never thought you had
it in you.”

Irina curled her lips scathingly,
exasperated by Cassi’s clearly fake reaction. “Oh come on. Tell me how to get
it off!”

“What, you think I did it?”

“Well if it wasn’t Luc then who else, or
are you both in this together? Come on ’fess up and help me!”

Cassi shook her head, cobalt-blue eyes so
serious that Irina almost swallowed her protestations of innocence. “I had
absolutely nothing to do with it.” She was still insisting the same thing hours
later as they traveled on the London underground to another meeting with Tyr
Bellor.

Irina, with Cassi in tow, arrived at the
police station an hour later, her mind distracted from this morning’s prank she
was still convinced Cassi had played. She had considered calling Merak to say
she was delayed on another case, but her hesitation had only been momentary. It
was crazy, but there was no keeping away. The thread that tied her to
him
was already dragging her closer, wrenching jerkily toward him like a coiled
spring on the rebound. Her whole body was sizzling with that weird static
energy she had experienced yesterday. Those damn butterflies in her chest began
turning somersaults in expectation as Irina climbed the stairs to the entrance.

It was noticeably quieter in the station
and Irina was thankful the media interest in the case had trailed off.
Detective Shax waved them through security and she briefly wondered if Leo was
on duty, as she needed to see him regarding another case. Cassi disappeared,
off to visit one of her own clients, promising to catch up with Irina later.

As she approached the interview room, it
became instantly obvious that
he
was there waiting. The static buzzing
intensified, and Irina’s heart began to beat so frantically she imagined it
might just burst through her rib cage. She hesitated, took a deep breath, and
walked through the door.

The room was empty. The butterflies dipped in
sad disappointment. Then she felt his presence to the left beside the door. He
was leaning against the wall, arms across his chest, head tilted to the
ceiling. Eyes closed, he appeared to be breathing in her scent and Irina was
spellbound as she watched the fall and rise of his massive chest.

With his eyes shut she took the opportunity
to look,
really look,
at this terrifying but fascinating man who was
creating such havoc in her calm, ordered life. He was wearing low-slung gray
sweats that accentuated the lean cut of his hips, and the white vest top that
stretched across the carved perfection of his smooth pectorals had ridden up as
he arched his back, shoulders against the wall, to reveal the taut glory of a
six-pack to die for. He was solid. He was rock. You could sharpen knives on
those abs.

Died and gone to heaven.

Eyes as wide as saucers, Irina followed a
sprinkle of dark curly hair that forged a line from those perfectly crafted
abdominals and descended below the waistband of his sweats. It was at this
point that she realized she was staring at his erection, which was insistently
forcing the soft gray fabric to imitate a rock-solid mountain.

“Enjoying the view?” His deep rumbling
voice pierced straight through to her bones, as she jerked herself away from
said view and almost ran to put the barrier of the table between them, cheeks
burning with embarrassment.
Way to go, Rina. Died and gone to hell!

Irina chose to ignore his question. “I
believe you want to make a statement?” she said, forcing herself to focus on
his face. This was a mistake as his expression was predatory, ratcheting up her
heartbeat until blood sang in her ears. She stared in panic as he pushed off
the wall and prowled toward her with a languid grace unusual for a man of his
size. His movements were fluid. Irina froze, mesmerised, unable to tear her
eyes away from watching hard muscles flex and uncoil as he smoothly placed his
palms down on the table and bent his dark head toward her. So close she could
feel the whisper of warm breath in her hair. He was so tall that Irina was
forced to tilt her face upward, eyes meeting his burning gaze. It was a
compulsion she could not ignore.

“I wanted to ask you if you can feel this
connection between us.”

Irina was startled by his directness. He
was challenging her to deny it. “I…I…don’t know what you mean,” she stammered,
panic rising. She was prey and he had her cornered.

“Oh, I think you do,” he said coolly, going
into attack mode. “You were at the fight, weren’t you? I saw you in the crowd
at the start.”

She couldn’t deny it, although why it
mattered she wasn’t sure. “Lots of people were,” she countered.

“Yes, but no one else has eyes your color.”

“What color is that?” she felt compelled to
ask.

“The color of liquid fire.”

Irina was losing the battle. Her defenses
were down but she called in the reserves. “Even though I may have been at the
fight, it has no bearing on your situation here, Mr. Bellor. We need to get
down to business.”
A shot to his flank
. Tyr reached across to cup her
cheek in the palm of one large hand. “I think business can wait.”

The heat of his touch was intense, but
Irina managed to steel herself enough to wrench backward and circle around him
to edge toward the door. It was then, as she backed away, keeping her eyes on
his neck before he turned, that she caught a glimpse of something familiar that
made her heart lurch in total shock.

“What the hell is that?” she gasped, striding
back toward him. Tyr turned, eyebrows arched in bewilderment as Irina pushed
his right shoulder around to verify that what she thought she’d seen was real.
“Is this some kind of a setup? Did Cassi put you up to this?”

There was bafflement in his eyes as he
looked down at her with a frown. “I’m glad you didn’t leave,” he said, “but
I’ve no idea what you are talking about.”

Irina was practically punching his shoulder
now. “The tattoo on your back!” she cried. “Where did you get it?” He looked
even more bemused. “What tattoo? I don’t have one.”

“Yes you do and I want to know where you
had it done.”

Tyr shook his head. “I’m still in the dark
here.”

Irina pulled a small compact mirror from
her bag and angled it for him to see. “Look,” she said in an exasperated tone,
as Tyr craned his neck to observe the small yin-yang symbol etched into his
left shoulder. His surprise intensified as his eyes met hers. “Can’t say I’ve
seen that before. Why are you so interested anyway? Do you want one too?” Tyr’s
voice was teasing although he still appeared confused, just as she had been
this morning.