by Cara Lake
“Daydreaming again?” Cassi asked, her cobalt-blue eyes twinkling with warmth. Irina’s mood lightened at once. It always did when Cassi was near. More than that, Irina knew she would never have survived the darkness without her. Irina forced the shadows away with a mental shove. “Guess what?” she said lightly. “I have a celebrity to visit.”
“Ooh interesting! Actor, musician, footballer, politician?”
“No. Boxer.”
“Really…” Cassi drawled, attention caught. “Is it who I think?”
“Well do you know any other fighters recently in the news and arrested for murder?”
“It’s true there has been a glut of murder, rioting and general all-around criminality recently but only one boxer-celebrity thrown into the clink.” Cassi looked searchingly at Irina, hesitated a moment and then teased, “And you have pictures of him…”
Irina’s jaw dropped. “What?”
Cassi grinned and waggled her finger. “I’ve seen your pictures of Tyr ‘Muscles’ Bellor. I just didn’t like to mention it before. I always suspected you were more into brawn than brain.”
Cassi smirked, ducking her head quickly as a pink stress ball whizzed over her shoulder. “Aren’t you glad now that I dragged you to the fight last week? It might be the last time he gets into the ring, other than a prison one of course.”
Irina frowned at Cassi. “Is that why you made me go, because you’d seen my scrapbook?”
Cassi’s eyes widened in shock. “What? No! I was just joking about that! You mean you actually have whole scrapbook? I only saw a couple of newspaper clippings you saved!”
Flushing scarlet, unnerved by the realization that Cassi had not known about her complete obsession with Tyr “Muscles” Bellor or her scrapbook of articles and pictures she had felt compelled to collect over the years, Irina fought to hide her embarrassment. “Oh my god you…you…” she spluttered, heat rising in her cheeks. “Then why did you make me go to the fight when you know I hate violence so much?”
There was a serious expression in Cassi’s eyes as she explained. “It was just a corporate event, Irina, and Merak was saying that you don’t get out much and that you need to socialize, network a bit more. Plus, Luc was going and I thought it would be good for you. I know Luc thinks you’re cool and I thought maybe in a different environment you might loosen up a bit.”
Irina was even more shocked. “Are you seriously trying to fix me up with Luc?” she said, shaking her head in utter bewilderment. “We’ve been friends and flatmates since university. If Luc and I were going to hook up I should think it would have happened before now!”
Cassi turned to her with an intense expression in her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said slowly, “these things only happen when the time is right.” Picking up the pink stress ball from the floor where it had landed, she threw it back at Irina. “Maybe that time is now.” And with that cryptic remark, Cassi left the room, leaving a shaky Irina to catch the ball. Her hands fumbled to catch it as Cassi disappeared, her legs so unsteady she had to sit down and take a deep breath. Irina could not remember feeling so off balance and out of kilter, not even after her family died. What is going on with me?
Her current state of mind could only be traced back to the day of the championship fight last week and the strangely intense reaction she had experienced toward a man who was now a murder suspect. A man whose face was a constant shadow, haunting both her nightmares and dreams. A man who was a secret obsession she had hidden for years even from her closest friend. A man whose occupation was an anathema to her very soul and a man who, with one look, had set off a chain reaction that reverberated in every cell of her body, inciting a maelstrom of confusion and chaos.
She could not explain her extreme reaction or the strange fascination he held for her, and in truth, it was not something she had ever expected to have to address. But last week, at the fight…her pulse quickened as she recalled the myriad emotions she had almost succeeded in packaging up and locking away in a “to be forgotten” box. Emotions her boss was unwittingly forcing her to tear open and confront. Emotions so bloody and raw they were terrifying.
Eight days ago, when Cassi had reminded her that Merak expected them both to attend an event that night, Irina had taken it to mean the usual boring meet-and-greet fancy cocktails with some major clients they needed to sweet talk. Gritting her teeth because, even though she loved her job as a lawyer she really wasn’t into the networking scene, Irina threw on her best strappy dress, a soft-blue floaty number that fell discreetly mid-thigh, and hoped it was sophisticated enough but wouldn’t draw unwanted attention. She paired it with her only Jimmy Choo shoes and flicked on some pink lippy and a dash of mascara on the way out.
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.
Chapter Two
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.