Black Diamond
Page 13
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Camille was not sure that she was fully ready to see Marc again. Knowing that he would be close by gave her a sense of security. She hastened to the kitchen realizing she’d nearly burned her dinner. She made her plate and went back to the living room. A thought hit her. Ashanta’s letter mentioned her family. Camille sat on the couch and placed her plate on the coffee table. She grabbed the letter and quickly read it again. An uneasy feeling passed through her as she re-read the words. She was right; Ashanta mentioned her family. Camille was certain that she said they were dead during one of their earlier conversations.
Camille retrieved Ashanta’s file and started at the beginning. She would read the entire file because she knew something was hidden in that message.
Ashanta’s file listed her parents as deceased. Camille could not wrack her brain. She needed to let everything unfold and settle in its due time. She placed the file on the table and ate while Ashanta’s warnings rang loud and clear in her head. Those thoughts caused her to drift back to Marc. Since they had met, things started going haywire around her. She had little time to think about their chemistry, yet he seemed to have done the exact opposite. She could hear his declaration vividly “We will solve this case. And then I plan to set my sights on having you.”
A tiny trail of goose bumps traveled the length of her body. She also admired the way he was coming to her aid. Camille knew he did not have to. He had no obligations to the case or her. She was beginning to look forward to him carrying out his promise. Something about him told her, he did not issue idle promises.
What would she do when he did? She wasn’t your everyday ‘damsel in distress’ type of chick, but something about him made her believe she could depend on him and besides her family she rarely had that feeling. She would not jump in blindly, but she would not fight what she was feeling, and she would not try to over think it. Whether it lasted one day or one year, she was ready to let things work themselves out.
Satisfied that she was prepared to handle Marc, Camille placed her dishes in the sink and fixed herself a cup of coffee. It was close to eleven o’clock and she would stay up all night if needed. She cleared the coffee table and sat her mug on a coaster, grabbing her pen and paper. She sat on the floor with her legs crossed and wiggled, positioning herself comfortably between the couch and the table. She would start at the beginning and not stop until she reread the entire file. She hoped something would jump out at her, but was prepared to dig until it all made sense. She placed Ashanta’s letter to the left of her and cell phone on the right. She grabbed her coffee and inhaled the hazelnut aroma before taking a drink of the warm liquid. A worn manila folder with several tabs awaited her.
Camille took a deep breath and opened the tattered folder to page one.
Chapter 14
Camille woke with her face plastered to Ashanta’s file. Her alarm clock rang loud from her bedroom. She sat up and rolled her shoulders in large circles trying to relieve the tension. She stretched and stood to her feet. She looked at the clock on the wall and knew she needed to try to run by the office, however, her tired body disagreed. She was exhausted. All she wanted to do was cuddle up in her bed and sleep for a week.
Camille knew a good cup of coffee would clear the cobwebs. She got the pot going and stopped to enjoy the aroma when her cell phone rang. She scurried around the house until she remembered that she left it on the living room table. She doubled back and searched the table, rummaging through the files and loose documents until she caught it on the last ring.
“Good morning,” Marc uttered in a sexy murmur. Damn, this man sounds like pure seduction. She wondered if he knew.
“Good morning, Marc. How did you sleep?” She slugged to her bedroom, fumbling around in her drawers, gathering her running clothes.
“I didn’t,” he said. She stopped.
“You didn’t sleep?” She raised her eyebrows in irritation.
“No, I decided to fly home after we talked last night. I’m in Houston.”
Silence passed between them. She did not like knowing he’d gone without sleep to get back to Houston on her behalf, but she felt a small amount of comfort knowing he returned. She still couldn’t believe Derek was being irresponsive. It made her feel alone; however, with Marc close she felt better.
“Are you going to the hotel to get some rest?” she asked, trying to hide her disapproval.
“No, I’m coming to you.”
She let an audible sigh of relief escape between her parted lips. She should discourage him, but why when she wanted him with her? She closed her eyes trying to fight butterflies two-stepping in her stomach. She collapsed onto her bed. Her tired body was affecting her ability to resist him.
“Marc, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine. You can always come by later.”
“Do you want me to come later?” he asked in a low, husky tone. He waited. Should she lie?
“No,” she whispered so low she could barely hear it.
“I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Bye, babe.”
He disconnected the line before she could respond. Camille slumped to the bed. What was she going to do with him? She would have to think about that later. Why would a man like him show up at a time in her life when everything was chaotic?
Her case was going to hell in a hand basket. She could not find one of her closest friends, and her relationship with Ashanta was connected to the case; she could not help but worry. Camille knew her growing concern had more to do with Ashanta’s well being than the case. She was growing tired of the lying and most of all, not having a say over how she spent the majority of her time.
After this case, she would have to take a long break and decide if the bureau was the best place for her. She found her cases still interesting, but this two-year stint caused her to rethink her life and her career. What would she do? She had always wanted to be an agent.
As a child, she always tried to one up her older brother. When he proclaimed that he wanted to join the military, she decided she wanted to be an FBI agent. She loved her older brother, but their sibling rivalry made their competitiveness run deep, and since that day, she’d altered her every step to achieving that goal.
Now, here she was. She was thirty-four years old and single. She made a decent living; however, she had a beautiful custom built home that she rarely occupied. She had several boyfriends in college, but only one serious relationship. They met in the FBI Academy and dated for several years before moving in together. Ron was handsome and she thought they would marry. However, the more promotions she received, the more turmoil her relationship experienced. He was also doing well, but she outranked him and after living together for six months, she started suspecting he was cheating. He became clingy, demanding more of her time while knowing she had to commit time to her cases. The more she said no, the more he wanted.
What if Marc did the same?
Camille fell back on the bed. That was five years ago, yet she knew parts of her still ached from Ron’s betrayal. He’d hurt her to the core. She had no doubt that she was over him, but she wasn’t sure if she was truly ready to move on to another relationship. She heard a knock on her door. She sat up, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She saw the tear stains on her cheeks. Why was she crying?
Goodness, he would think she was a crybaby. She laughed, hurrying to the bathroom to splash water on her face. She yelled, letting the eager knocker know she was moving as fast as she could.
She opened the door to find a deliveryman standing with a package, not Marc. She signed for the package.
“Camille, you’re a beautiful woman,” the FedEx man said, fumbling with the electronic clipboard.
“Thank you,” she answered, merely taking his words as a compliment. She noticed the sender name and felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
“Would you be interested in going out for drinks or dinner sometime?”
Camille stopped opening the package and looked at the man standing i
n front of her. He was attractive, his fair skin did not compare to the smooth brown of Marc’s. She stopped herself. She was comparing this poor man to Marc. She chuckled and opened her mouth to decline when she saw Marc standing over the carrier’s shoulder.
Marc’s face held a deep frown. His brows furrowed into a deep crease in his forehead and his sleep-deprived eyes looked almost lethal. His hands, closed into tight fists, rested on his denim covered hips.
Was he jealous? She would have laughed if he was not boring holes into the carrier’s back.
“No, thank you,” she said to the carrier while looking into Marc’s eyes. The carrier turned, looking over his shoulder following her gaze. Camille saw him stiffen. Marc had about five inches and fifty plus pounds on the carrier. The carrier mumbled his departure and made his way down her steps and to his van.
Camille and Marc watched him drive away. They shifted their gazes to each other. Camille could see the lack of sleep on Marc’s face. It did not diminish his rugged good looks, in fact it made his appearance more handsome…almost forbidden.
“How many admirers do you have hanging around your door?” he asked as if seriously contemplating her response.
“I only see one,” She said with a smug smile. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the door jam. She could tell he used his size to intimidate the carrier. However, she was from a family of large men. She could hold her own.
Marc’s chin fell to his chest. He lifted his head and she could see the humor spread across his face. He took her steps two at a time, reaching her in a split second. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her. Their lips locked and she moaned as his tongue darted deeper into her mouth. She did not fight it. She mimicked the flickering of his tongue and moved a step closer bringing their bodies closer together.
Camille felt a groan vibrate from Marc’s chest. He lifted his hands to hold the sides of her face as he angled his mouth over hers. She wrapped an arm around his waist and allowed herself to enjoy the comfort of his presence.
He stepped back. She felt a cold breeze pass between them. She rested her hand on her chest as they allowed the morning wind to lower the temperature between them. Neither one of them moved.
Marc leaned in closer to Camille and she swore she could not think straight. “Baby, let me in before I kiss you again on your porch. I think the kiddos have had enough sex education for the day.” She looked and saw that they had an audience. The fifteen or so kids standing waiting for the school bus, all stood in shock. She heard him laugh and could not help but join him. Camille stepped back, giving him room to enter.
He cleared the entry and waited for her to close the door. Marc pinned her to the wall with his sexually charged stare, braced his hand against the wall, and used his free hand to brush the freckles on the bridge of her nose. He kissed her, but this was unlike before, it was soft and leisurely. He took his time and she felt him all through her body although only their mouths touched. She knew this had to stop because her brain was dissolving into mush and the tingle vibration through her was escalating into a full alarm fire between her thighs.
Camille lifted her hand and placed it on Marc’s chest. She let her head lean against the wall as she tried to catch her breath. She could not remember the last time a man had kissed her silly, and boy, oh boy, could he kiss. She did not want him to stop, but he had to.
Marc let his headrest on his forearm above Camille’s head. The only sound in the apartments was their labored breathing. She moved forward and rested her head on his chest. He moved without hesitation, pulling her into his arms. Camille, forgetting about the delivery, wrapped her arms around his waist causing the package to hit the floor.
They bent down to pick up the papers and items that scattered on the floor. Camille took everything from Marc as they walked to the living room.
“Excuse the mess. I was combing through Ashanta’s file last night. Something in her letter caught me by surprise.” She sat on the couch and laid the new contents on the table. She began reassembling the files while he sat next to her on the couch.
“It’s fine. I am a surprise guest.” They laughed and she decided to look through the contents of the package. Camille noticed the stack of cash. She leaned forward, picking it up. They exchanged a stunned look. She thumbed through it and guessed it was close to ten thousand dollars. She heard Marc release a faint whistle. She sat the money to the side and knelt in front of the table.
Camille flipped through a few documents and grabbed the package. She opened it wider, finding a small key on a Texas shaped key chain with Texas Federal Credit Union painted on both sides. They both eyed the key. She placed it on the table and pulled out a blue plastic sleeve. Inside she found Ashanta’s passport, which meant she could not have left the country. She reached in and removed a digital recorder, a business card, and a handwritten note.
She began reading as she turned the package upside down over the table causing the last item to fall. It was a locket. Camille recognized it as the one Ashanta wore daily. It was much like her mother's earrings. They had laughed at their ability to wear their special jewelry with everything.
Camille instantly recalled the mention of a safe deposit box in Dallas. She reached across the table for Ashanta’s letter. Her positioning caused her left breast to brush Marc’s leg. They jumped startled by the electricity that flowed through them. He inched back on the couch and she leaned further toward the table trying to avoid another accidental touch.
She found the letter and passed it to Marc. He began reading as she read the note from the package. It was written on a small notepad with “Joyas Custom Jewelry” in red script letters across the top.
Marc began examining the documents from the file and the other contents from the package. She refocused on the letter. Camille paused, closing her eyes, trying to brace herself for the worse. She soon felt the warmth from Marc’s hand as he squeezed her shoulder. His support gave her the courage to open her eyes. She said a quick prayer for her friend and began reading.
Listen to the recorder. You should plan a trip to Dallas ASAP. I would suggest driving so that you limit the paper trail. You will find everything in my safety deposit box.
I love you and be careful. Try not to go alone.
Ashanta
Camille passed the note to Marc. She heard his signature groan. She was beginning to believe that was not a good sign. She slid up to the couch and sat next to Marc. She picked up the small handheld recorder and pressed play.
Cami,
I don’t know where to begin, so I’ll start at the beginning. I was raised in a small village in Angola.
Camille could hear her crying and it brought tears to her eyes because she knew how strong Ashanta was.
My mother cleaned the houses of rich, white people in a neighboring town to pay for my tuition to private school. My father picked up odd jobs here and there. They stressed education and did not allow me to work or participate in extracurricular activities because my job was to make good grades and make a better life for myself and my family. And I almost did.
Ashanta whispered the last line with so much regret that Camille found herself looking around for a tissue. Marc walked over to the end table near the love seat and brought the box to Camille. She mumbled her thanks and continued to listen.
I was thirteen when I first met Talib.
Camille froze and held the tissue in her hand as if it was a lifeline.
“What is it, Camille?” Marc said.
Could it be the same person? No, it couldn’t be. What are the chances that he was the same person? She was caught in her own thoughts until she felt Marc give her a slight shake. He held both of her shoulders and he was inches from her face. She had zoned out.
“Camille, what is it?” The look in his eyes made her nervous. He looked panicked, almost fearful. She touched her hand to his face, hoping to relieve the strain.
“Sorry.” She stopped, reaching for the recorder.
“She said she met Talib when she was thirteen.” He nodded, so she continued, “Well, yesterday Saul named the interim vice president of international accounts. His name is Talib Kamwi.”
“You think it’s the same person.”
“I’m not sure. It could be a common African name.” She shrugged in doubt, using the tissue to dry her face.
He pressed play on the recorder.
I was walking home from school one day and I crossed paths with some misfits in an alley. I was not paying attention and by the time I realized what I’d walked into I was a few feet from them.
The moment they saw me I knew I had to run. I dropped my books and ran. Cami, I was so scared. I had known family members that had been raped and held for days just to be sexually tormented. I screamed and ran hoping someone would help me.