Black Diamond

by Ja'Nese Dixon

  He nodded. He seemed satisfied with her answer because he put the papers back on the table and stood.

  “You do that and call me once you return. I'm heading to the police department to follow up on Harold's autopsy and your break in.”

  He said goodbye to Marc over her shoulder and walked to the door. He reached for the handle and asked, “Is there something else I should know?” He kept his eyes on Marc, his voice low enough so only she could hear.

  “No.” She felt trapped. He knew Marc was watching and probably heard, despite Derek's attempt to be discreet. She heard him grunt a response before opening the door.

  “You have until Monday.” He walked out the door without a backwards glance.

  She slammed the door. Monday! She had less than four days to close the case. Why did she continue to do this? She went round and round and it always brought her back to the same place–frustration.

  Camille stood still and had a silent standoff with herself. She mused...how dare he and who did he think he was? and why I have a mind to... Before she could recover she heard, “Care to tell me what that was about?”

  * * *

  What if she is a cop?

  He was a free man and no one had said a word about the deaths or the diamonds. Yet, Talib couldn't shake the thought. He did not travel to Houston to tangle with the law.

  He reasoned that he would rather deal with her than find himself behind bars. However, he felt confident with Dalmar on standby. He would be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary.

  It seemed too calm around IJDC, especially considering Harold's and Ashanta's deaths. Everyone continued to work like nothing happened. Today a reminder was sent about the company gathering to help keep the employee morale up following the change in leadership. It was a formal black-tie event and Talib couldn't wait to see Camille.

  Talib parked in the IJDC parking lot and made his way into the building. He did not want to discuss his suspicions with Saul over the phone, but he needed to locate a private investigator that worked fast.

  An uneasy feeling settled over him and he knew he had to trust his instincts. He grabbed his cell phone as he waited for the elevator.

  “Dalmar, make my travel plans for Sunday, for two.”

  * * *

  Marc had to check himself. She was not his woman and he had no right to stake a claim over her. They’d slept together and that was it.

  He was behind the wheel as the silence between them felt on edge. She gave him some piss poor explanation, but he knew it was more. He guessed they both would have their secrets. The tightness in his chest and the rapid beat of his heart reminded him of Ebony's affair.

  Marc lowered the windows in the car to allow the fresh air to swirl through the cabin. He couldn't believe he was still affected by his failed marriage. When he committed to his wife, he did it for life. Their families warned them they were marrying too young. They let their youth get the better of them. They did not heed the cautionary tales of love lost since they knew they would survive. The end of his marriage was the single most humbling experience of his life.

  In his first year of marriage, they spent more than half their time apart due to his job. Marc was young and had a point to prove to the agency and he wanted to provide a good life for his wife. While he was pursuing the bad guys, she was too. She first began complaining about his position and his inability to call on a regular basis. Her complaints ceased and were replaced by clubbing with single friends.

  “Get control of that, bro,” Jarvis warned him. She was a grown woman and he trusted her, but his trust was misplaced. What began as friendly nights out on the town escalated to exchanging phone numbers and his brother eventually caught her. His suspicions began to climb and he asked Jarvis for his help. His brother quickly confirmed his suspicions. She was having an affair. He removed his clothes from their home that day and filed for divorce shortly thereafter.

  Marc's ringing cell phone pulled him from his hurtful stroll down memory lane.

  “This is Marc.” He glanced at Camille's profile as he brought the car to a stop at the traffic signal.

  “Hey, baby bro, you're not going to believe the new assignment I received. I've been asked to investigate Camille Carmichael.”

  “What?” Jarvis had his full attention. Someone was looking into Camille's background.

  “Yeah, my thoughts exactly. They want something, like yesterday. I quoted a five figure fee and he didn't even blink,” Jarvis said.

  Marc was not surprised by the request since Jarvis is one of the best private investigators in Houston. His business worked strictly on referrals and his rates were not for the average person. His normal clientele included the Who's Who and it afforded him a comfortable lifestyle.

  “I'm running an errand with Camille now. How about I come by your place once I'm done?”

  “Do that, and stay safe. I don't like the feel of this.”

  “Will do.” He disconnected the line as he approached IJDC. Marc slowed to turn into the parking lot.

  “Don't…keep driving and circle the block,” Camille squealed.

  Marc drove past the building and made the right at the end of the block. “What did I miss?” he asked, glancing back at the parking lot through the rear-view mirror. He saw two men apparently talking beside a dark SUV. She sat twisted in the passenger seat and looked over her left shoulder.

  “I think that was Talib and Saul in the parking lot,” she whispered.

  He nodded, giving her time to process what they should do next. He slowed and pulled to the side of the road, shifted into park, pressed the hazard button, and left the car running. They could not see the parking lot from the backside of the block, but he was sure they shouldn't go around just yet.

  “Thanks, let's sit here for a few minutes.”

  He nodded and realized her visit from Derek distracted him from finding out about her lunch appointment with Talib. “How did your lunch go?”

  “Good, we really talked. It‘s hard to believe he could be the person Ashanta mentioned on the recorder.”

  He nodded and glanced in the side mirror, watching traffic. The passing traffic illuminated their car. He knew more was going on than Camille realized and he had to determine how far he wanted to get tied up with her case. Marc initially found it interesting and wanted to look out for her, but after watching her and Derek, he wondered if there was more going on between the two of them—and whether he wanted to get involved.

  He could hear Russell's encouragement in the back of his mind, however withholding his findings could disrupt her case. He would wait until he talked with Jarvis. The thought of bettering his chance for reassignment held an appeal.

  “I think we should swing around the block,” Camille said.

  Marc pulled into the flow of traffic.

  “Marc, my last relationship was with an agent and when the relationship ended I was a mess and my case fell apart.”

  He glanced in her direction as she peered out the window into the clear dark night.

  “This assignment is my first major case since then and Derek is concerned that our personal relationship will affect my ability to close this case.” She turned to look at him.

  He heard regret reverberating from her and glanced her way, taking in her silhouette since he could not see her face in the car’s dark interior. Marc pulled into the parking lot. There were only a couple of cars left. The two men and the SUV were gone.

  “Do you still want to go inside?” His voice rang harsher than he intended. She flinched slightly and opened the door. He followed as she made her way to the glass doors. He watched the sway of her hips in her blue jeans. He visually swept the parking lot and reached for the door, stepping back to allow her entrance into the building before him.

  Camille signed them in while making small talk with the night guard. He watched her smile and tilt her head back, laughing with a scrawny-looking kid. He moved closer and lightly placed his hand on her lower back when she
turned to walk toward the elevators. The look she gave him over her shoulder could have frozen ice, but he didn't give a damn. He saw that kid sizing her up.

  He felt the elevator ascend. Camille was wedged in the far corner, seemingly trying to place as much distance between them as possible. Marc stepped closer to her and placed his right hand flat against the cool reflective metal wall, blocking her in. He could see a slight quiver pulse through her as he used his index finger to trace the bridge of her nose.

  “I don't think we should be doing this.” She said as her eyes slide close. His finger was moving beneath her eyes and he could feel the soft brushing of her long eyelashes. Her chest rose and fell, causing her breasts to connect with his t-shirt clad chest.

  Marc cupped Camille's jaw as his thumb traced small circles along her cheekbone. “I'm sure we shouldn't, but I can't help it. There's something about you that makes me throw caution to the wind and take advantage of every moment we have alone.” He captured her mouth as she stole his breath and kept her caged in his embrace as the kiss deepened. Her purr of pleasure vibrated through her and encouraged him to cup her full bottom in the palm of his hand. He squeezed, bringing their bodies together yet another few inches.

  The chime of the elevator signaling that they had reached their destination ended their moment, but the look in her eyes let him know it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

  Chapter 23

  Camille sat behind her desk preparing for a meeting. She and Marc searched her office the night before, but files were missing. She walked away with a note from Lee regarding an early morning meeting with Saul.

  As she waited, she took in the beauty of the sunrise. The sky was clear and it appeared to be another beautiful day in Houston. She knew she would see very little of it. She would have to run home to prepare for her date with Marc. He'd agreed to accompany her to the office party.

  The party was known to be bigger than any of their holiday gatherings. They wore their best clothes and jewels and partied until the sun rose. She thought Saul would cancel the shindig, but he didn't stating that he wanted to keep a sense of normalcy around the office. She agreed, but couldn't imagine attending without Ashanta.

  Camille planned to wear a basic black dress, and dazzle them with her accessories. She would have as much fun as she could given the circumstances. She could see Marc now in a tuxedo accenting his broad shoulders and narrow waist. They still hadn't discussed their night in Dallas and she wasn't sure she was prepared to discuss it. What would she say? She knew he was a more of a fun person than a man that intended to stick around, which is why she could kick herself for allowing that night to happen. She did not regret it, yet a part of her wished that night meant the beginning of a relationship. She knew he planned to move on and she had to pretend her growing feelings did not exist.

  Camille chuckled aloud, visualizing Marc's face the night before as Richard dished out his usual small talk at the front desk. She thought she saw jealously dance across his features, but it quickly dissolved into annoyance. When Marc placed his large hand on her lower back, she watched his eyes flash with recognition and decided that she wanted no part in their male pissing contest.

  Lee buzzed her to remind her about the meeting with Saul. Camille stood, grabbed her coffee and made her way to his office. “Lee, are you attending the banquet tonight?”

  “You know it's an unspoken rule that we're required to attend. Are you bringing a date?”

  Camille dropped her head in a mild blush. “I take that as a yes,” Lee said.

  “Yes, but it's nothing serious.” Hearing the words made Camille wish they weren't true. Her brief interaction with Marc was the closest thing to a real relationship that she'd had in a long time. However, it wasn't to be, so she'd enjoy the time they had and bid him farewell when their time ended.

  Lee raised a manicured brow, which Camille hated because it spoke volumes. She was a hard-working woman of limited words, and their working relationship had blossomed into a casual flow between them. Lee passed Camille a notepad and told her that she'd do a late lunch after her meeting was over. Camille nodded and made her way to Saul's office.

  * * *

  Marc executed a perfect bow tie while his thoughts floated to Camille. Just when he thought this case could not become worse, it did. Camille was staring at two known deaths on her watch and few leads to solving the case. Why did the bureau let her continue on such limited resources and information? He was prepared to talk with Derek until he noticed his reaction to Camille. Marc knew something was going on between those two and that was enough to make him end his Houston stay and move on. He was sure the look on Derek’s face mirrored his own, that of a man staking his claim.

  He felt a need to stay and help her and try to fight for his growing feelings and sleeping with her only complicated an already difficult situation. He would keep his hands, and lips, to himself until the case was solved. Talking with his brother only increased the need for his presence. Jarvis accepted the case to investigate Camille and promised to keep Marc posted.

  The news from Russell remained the same. They were dealing with a group the agency would do just about anything to get their hands on. They all had politicians and businesses under their belt, which explained their ability to stay under the radar.

  The thought baffled Marc since the groups did not conform to the characteristics known for rebel organizations. Most organizations wanted you to know about their presence and many usually loathed the United States. They were known for destruction in the name of a political agenda.

  In the past, he looked for suicide bombers, illegal arms dealers, and conspiracies to harm Americans. But he could not grasp the angle of this invisible player, a group that was so discreet that they managed to collect billions of dollars while bypassing the watchful eye of the CIA and the FBI.

  What did they want? Where were they? And how did IDJC work into the equation? He would find out, leaving him to wonder how it would affect his relationship with Camille?

  Marc shook his head in dismissal and ran his hands along the front of his single breast tuxedo. He could not recall the last time he’d dressed for a black-tie event. He glanced at the dark, red roses resting on the desk. The florist had delivered them minutes before. According to the clock on the nightstand, he had to get going.

  Russell ended his call with an air of caution. He had a sixth sense about these things and Marc trusted him with his life. They talked for several hours, tossing around possibilities about this group and something didn’t add up. How did they make in past the CIA, the FBI and customs?

  In any other situation, he would have loved a case as complicated as this. It was his specialty. He cleaned up and dealt with the cases where most had failed, and as a result, the agency gave him a free hand to get things done…and he did.

  Camille’s face flashed before his eyes and he knew that this case would not end favorable for them. With each touch, each kiss, Marc felt her drawing him in.

  He could still feel the ringlets of her hair tangled in his hands, and against his better judgment, he made love to her knowing that they were playing with fire. She was undercover and he was straddling the fence between his career and his life.

  Marc had to choose between pursuing her openly or closing this case and getting a green light to leave his current position as an agent. He wanted more for his future, and a family was not far from his thoughts.

  Could he have Camille and solve the case without destroying the bond that was growing between them?

  The last time Marc bet on a woman, he lost and he knew that without a doubt he was not prepared to suffer that type of loss again. He lived with constant thoughts of her betrayal. The ache consumed him for longer than he cared to admit.

  Marc snatched up the flowers, tired of the endless list of unanswered questions. He would not answer them tonight. They would enjoy her company gathering, and later, deal with whatever came their way.

  * * *

  Marc
lied. He promised to keep his hands to himself, but staring at Camille in the sexist black dress he’d seen in his life was testing his willpower. She’d opted to pin her hair up and the streetlights reflected from the usual black diamond earrings and the cluster of black and white diamonds cascading from her neck, resting comfortably in her deep v-neckline. He held his breath, willing his heartbeat to slow its pace or he was sure to pull her into his arms and lose himself in the warmth of her rose-colored lips.

  Marc stepped back as she locked the door. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants and turned to view the passing traffic. He took several cleansing breathes, turning once he heard her drop the keys into her clutch. They locked eyes. She smiled and he stepped closer, dropping his mouth to hover mere inches from her.