Black Diamond (26 page)

“Are you ready?” he asked, kissing his way down her stomach.

“Yes...”

Talib sat behind the wheel of his rented SUV, waiting for a passing vehicle to clear the road. He had a few men with him and a tinge of guilt was rattling his mind, but he was not here to make friends. He wanted his money. His intuition told him that Camille knew something from Ashanta’s letter.

The street was filled with parked cars and he didn't see any oncoming traffic. He ran his hands along his head, feeling his knit hat in place. He gave the men, dressed in all black, their marching orders and they moved in sync. Talib was several steps ahead. He reached in his pockets, removed his black gloves, and slipped his hands into them. He wiggled his fingers, ensuring they were secure.

Talib could see Camille's beautiful face and he stepped through her silhouette as he watched a man kneel to pick her lock. With one forceful push, he crossed the threshold entering Camille's home.

He watched them move through the condo with ease. He closed the door as they cut through the night, quiet as the evening breeze. He wouldn't have known they were present if he didn't catch slight flickers of their flashlights. He supervised stepping over the tossed belongings. He reached for the door to the coat closet.

“I checked that closet. There are only jackets inside,” D called out from across the room. He was a local contact that helped from time to time.

“And…” Talib asked annoyed. His gaze sent D on his way. He stepped into the closet to find several neatly hung jackets, a luggage set, and a small metal file cabinet.

Talib heard a crash coming from the back of the condo. He closed the door and headed toward the sound. Walking in Camille's bedroom, he could still smell her scent lingering in the air. He wished he had the words to describe it. His growing awareness to her subsided when he heard a crunch underneath his feet. Talib stepped back and noticed a glass vase shattered on the floor.

“I told you to keep the damages minimal. What part of that don't you understand?”

“My bad. It was an accident.” D nonchalantly shrugged. Talib was not amused.

He scanned the room, noticing one of the men going through Camille's dresser drawers. He was tossing things about, he stopped and ran his hands through her drawer of underwear.

“Get out of there!” Talib growled, startling him. He slammed the drawer shut and continued to move about the room.

“Get your boy.” He looked at D and continued. “We are looking for files, memory sticks, data CDS, NOT panties, bras, and fucking shit up! Understand?” Talib let his voice rise and it echoed through the condo. All three men stopped.

“Yes,” the trio reluctantly mumbled.

Satisfied that they understood, he went back to the front closet. Talib opened the top drawer of the metal file cabinet and began scanning it when his cell phone rang. He answered. It was Dalmar, his right hand man.

“Yeah...”

Dalmar ignored his sullen mood and gave him an update on the operation. He was one of the most innovative businessmen he knew. He and Dalmar met in their late teens and Talib promised he would take Dalmar along for the ride. He kept his promise and as a result, Dalmar was the closest thing to family that he had. He paused to consider Ashanta, but whatever potential their relationship held had died with her. He reasoned that she knew better than to fuck with his money.

Talib never thought he would find his work with the group appealing. His first intentions were to kill everyone that harmed his family. The members of the Imperial Dynasty raided his village and were responsible for the deaths of many of the villagers including his mother and sisters. He had been forced to watch several men rape and then kill his sisters.

He knew a part of him died that day. His mother made him promise to care for his sisters and he failed.

“Man, are you there?”

“I'm sorry, I'm kind of busy. How are things going there?” Talib left Dalmar in charge of operations in his absence since he was the only person he trusted. They had been through a lot together.

“We’re moving along as planned. I completed the contract negotiations with our new contacts in Liberia and Democratic Republic of Congo. We’re on target to triple our revenues and we’ll have distributors on every continent. You’re one clever man.”

Talib nodded his approval of their progress while walking through Camille’s condo.

“That's enough gushing for one day.” Dalmar laughed at his own joke. “I selected our next scholarship recipients. We have five students. Two are heading to the United States, one is studying in China, one in Switzerland, and the other is in London. I just need to announce the date for the ceremony. When should we expect you?”

Talib expected to feel happy or at least successful, yet the more money he made, the more isolated, and alone he felt. He was no fool and knew he worked in a cutthroat environment. He'd reinvented the workings of a rebel group. They did not deal like the rest of them and it was causing them to stand out on the international scale. At first, he found building business alliances fascinating. He had people acknowledging their work. It opened doors to deal with legitimate businesses and universities around the world. Now, he was more like a walking target. He was clearing billions and it attracted people that wanted to befriend him or kill him to acquire the status that he achieved. He had more people wanting him dead than alive.

“I hope to be out of here in a couple of days.” He motioned for one of his rent-a-thugs to check the storage closet off the patio. Talib walked through the house, checking behind the men. They pulled together documents and began stacking them on the coffee table. He lowered himself onto the couch. Dalmar continued to talk, bringing him up to date.

The operation was simple. He took his men from being controlled by force to being controlled by money. They did not use the normal recruiting tactics. They did not sit around plotting to take over the government. No, his men and women were educated. They used technology to further their cause, and it was all based on mutual financial gain.

Talib knew money made the world go ’round. The Dynasty’s growing financial obligations included paying for college tuition, cars, houses, all-expense paid vacations, and in exchange, they gave him their loyalty.

“Cool, I will give them the green light. We have some contracts you need to review, I’ll fax them over. Geoffrey’s already given his approval, now I need your signature to move forward.” Dalmar focused on completing his tasks, ignoring Talib's unresponsiveness. Geoffrey was their attorney and another proud product of his leadership.

“Send it, I'll take care of it and get it back to you before I leave. How is Minkah?”

Talib used Ashanta's mother as an example. He built his reputation and empire on follow-through and that's where Saul had gone wrong. He would always find himself on the short end of the stick. People would not believe him because he was weak and issued idle threats. Talib could not afford that luxury because if he did, he'd find himself dead somewhere by some young blood trying to make a point. He didn't kill her, but ...

“She is recovering.” He waited a few seconds before asking the next question, “What about Ashanta?”

“I handled the situation,” Talib said. Dalmar knew he did not explain his actions to anyone, and he didn't plan to start now.

Talib walked back to the closet. They needed to leave Camille's soon and he wanted to go through the file cabinet. He lowered his body and began finger walking through the files. He passed over several names, looking for something familiar. He stopped at “Ashanta Kenani.” He grabbed the file and walked back to the couch.

“Dalmar, if that's it, I have to go.” He opened the file on the coffee table and began extracting the handwritten papers.

He said his goodbyes and sat bewildered as he focused on the handwritten notes. He called for a flashlight. He pulled the top sheet closer to his face scanning the light across the words. His thoughts moved from shock to anger.

She was some kind of cop or something. He saw the stats and entries chronicling Ashanta's company moves for the past two years.
Camille is a cop!

They went from awkward to mind-blowing to awkward again. Camille and Marc rode in silence and neither broached the subject. She sat on the passenger's side watching the cars pass by, letting the music keep her company.

“Should I apologize for moving too fast?” Marc asked.

Camille turned to appreciate his profile. She knew it would be tacky to say,
you rocked my world
or y
ou complete me
or even
what the hell were you waiting for?
She laughed at her runaway thoughts. He misunderstood her laughter because his facial expression turned hard.

“No, why should you apologize? You asked and I answered. We're grown and I enjoyed it.” She reached for his hand, which rested on the gearshift. He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. “I think it was kind of liberating,” she rambled. “I am not looking for anything permanent and neither are you. We can enjoy each other and when it's done, we'll part friends.”

Marc's stoned expression returned. Camille stopped and focused on the landscape.

“Friends?”

“Yes, friends.” She turned, resting her back on the car door. She gave in to her physical need when she said yes, and she didn't regret it. She would not confuse lust with love, she'd been there, done that. She would call it like she saw it, enjoy their time and move on.

He rode the remainder of the trip in silence. She wanted to talk, but she decided to hold on to their Dallas moment.

Marc made the trip in record time, parked outside her door and turned off the engine. Neither moved. She grabbed her handbag and prepared to get out the car. Camille opened the door, but Marc leaned across her lap and pulled the car door shut. She sat in shock with her mouth hanging open.

“So, let me get this straight. You just planned to have a little fun in Dallas. Nothing more?”

 
“Marc, you asked and I said yes. We did not discuss anything other than...” She felt the blood rush to her face, and he groaned. With a raised eyebrow, she could see his eyes flashing with need. Camille felt a level of satisfaction knowing that she was responsible for putting it there, but once was all she could do. She knew if they continued, she would not be able to separate sex from something more meaningful.

“Other than what, sex?” His voice began to sound calmer. Maybe she was getting through to him.

“Yes...sex.” There, she said it.

“Okay. I got it.”

She nodded and was happy with getting that uncomfortable conversation over with. She reached for the door handle, got out and walked to the trunk to get her bag.

“Let me get it for you.”

“No, thanks, I got it. Head on home and I'll call you later tonight once I rest up and review the locket.”

He nodded and watched her walk to her door. She waved him off after inserting her key in the door. She heard the engine roar to life and he drove away.

They had picked up the locket from Manuel and headed back to Houston. She was excited about reviewing the information and only hoped it revealed what she needed to solve her case.

Camille opened the door and immediately felt her heart drop. Her bag hit the floor. She couldn't decide what to do first. She closed the front door dashing to her file closet.

The closet appeared intact. Camille moved to her bedroom, stepping over tossed pillows and empty drawers. Walking into her bedroom, she felt her anger rise as she witnessed her personal belongings thrown about. Her undergarments and clothes were strewn across the room. Tears blurred her vision.
Who did this?

Camille walked back to her bags, got her purse and found her cell phone. She called Derek and left a message. She had to call the local authorities and then she took a deep breath before calling Marc.

After one ring, his voice carried through the line triggering her tear ducts. “Someone broke into my place.” She couldn't stop crying.