Black Diamond (32 page)

Marc had to get out of there. He stood outside the banquet hall with an eye on Camille and Talib. He recognized him from the pictures they found in Ashanta's box. He snapped a picture with his camera phone and sent it to Russell.

Marc removed his jacket, walked to the public bar and ordered a drink. He could see her ease with him. She had men all around her, first Derek and now Talib. He did not intend to be yet another man standing around waiting for her to choose him. Instead, he would take Russell's advice and set sail…
alone
.

The bartender placed his drink on a square black napkin on the reflective bar. Marc tossed his jacket across the seat next to him. He had to think it through. They had stumbled on a lot of information and it all seemed so random to him. He grabbed a white napkin from the display and pulled out a pen from his inside pocket. He jotted down
Ashanta, Harold, Saul, Talib, Camille
.

He began with Ashanta. She seemed to be the connecting piece between everyone involved in the case. She was dating Harold, the president of IJDC. He had the power and relationships to make the trafficking feasible. She could also be responsible for his death.
What if she was sending Camille on a wild goose chase?
She had the ability to bridge a gap between her past, Talib, and her present, IJDC. Did she intentionally lead them further from her known potential relationship with the rebel organization?

Harold and his company were known globally. To go from a small Texas-based company to an internationally known brand, Marc was certain Harold knew the major, legal and illegal, players in the trade of precious stones. He had the means, but why would he risk his company's reputation by dealing in conflict diamonds?

Marc knew very little about Saul, but if he worked in his father's shadow that was motivation to make a mark on the family business. Did he resort to murder? And was he responsible for making a deal with rebel group?

Then there was Talib. He knew Ashanta before she joined IJDC and he had international ties to the region known for rebel activities. Judging from the documents amassed by Ashanta, why would she agree to work with the man she believes is responsible for harming her family? Unless she was forced to.

Camille worked with everyone, except Talib. She'd been undercover for two years and her frustration caused by the assignment and her job was evident. He needed another drink because the more he thought about it, the more complicated his hiatus became. Marc stood, throwing a twenty on the bar. He pulled on his jacket and noticed the time. More than two hours had passed. Camille must be worried, he thought. He finished his drink and retraced his steps to the banquet room.

* * *

Camille took the offered drink and silently vowed that it would be her last for the night. She was enjoying his company and the festive mood of her co-workers was rubbing off on her. She refused to allow Marc's foul mood to affect her. He disappeared and she stopped looking for him. Thankfully, Talib kept the conversation lively as they discussed current events, his traveling, and they danced until her feet hurt.

Camille placed her champagne glass on the table. She stood and felt her head swim. Talib stood and she leaned into him to steady herself. “You're leaving so soon,” he asked. His quick reaction brought them close to one another and she could smell his cologne.

She nodded, clenching her eyes shut to ward off her dizzy spell. “Yes, I think I've had enough for the night, besides...” She opened her eyes to find his direct stare focused on her. She could see concern in his eyes. “...we've danced and talked for most of the night.” She softly patted his arm, signaling him to loosen his grip from around her waist.

“Let me get that for you.” Talib reached over and pulled the chair back, clearing a walk space for her to move between the tables. “Camille, I'd feel better if you'd allow me to escort you home.”

Camille knew being alone with Talib was not a good idea. They got along well, but he had a way of moving past her defenses and common sense. They talked as if they were old friends and the mild hurt she felt from Marc's dismissal only made her distrust her reactions toward him even more.

She hesitated, “I don't know if that's a good idea.”

“I've been a perfect gentleman, haven't I?”

She nodded with reservation; yes, he had been a gentleman. He had made her a plate fit for a queen, made several trips to the bar, and he ensured that she did not harp on Marc's disappearance. His smile and light laughter filled the silence between them. Her throbbing head made her refocus on him; she realized she had one too many drinks.

“And we both can see you're not in a position to leave alone, right?” His voice dropped and she could see uncertainty dancing in his eyes.
Where had that come from
? She pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she stood assisted by Talib's strong grip.

“I want to make sure you arrive home in one piece and then I'll leave you alone.” He smiled and she returned it. His energy was contagious. “I promise...” He used his index finger to draw an exaggerated “x” across his heart.

Camille laughed at the sight before her. The devilish grin on his face made her stomach churn and she felt sleepy. She rarely drank and her bed was calling her name. She would let him take her home under one condition, “Can I trust you?” she asked in a somber tone.

Talib looked deep into her eyes and secured a random curl behind her ear. She knew he could feel the slight tremor as his finger feathered across her ear.

“What do you think, Camille?”

Where was she?

D stood in the doorway and the room was empty. He turned on his heel, retracing his steps. He pulled out his cell phone and snarled into it. “Get over here, now!”

* * *

Talib made his way through Houston. He decided to drive to the banquet and now he had her. Camille sat in the passenger's seat with her eyes closed. He resisted the urge to stop the car and watch her sleep. Her full breasts over the seductive dip in her dress teased him. She appeared comfortable with her shoes laying on the floorboard and the deep red polish on her toes made him want to reach out and touch her feet.

Talib focused on his drive. Houston's traffic was ridiculous. He noticed the sea of brake lights ahead. He knew the stop and go would not disturb her. He'd placed a few drops of Rohypnol in her wine to lower her defenses, but he silently hoped he would not have to force her to disclose what she knew about his money. He knew it was wishful thinking to hope their relationship was real and that it could hold the potential for something more permanent. The thought made him cringe. He'd cut ties with women years ago. His group was his life, however, the more time they spent together, the more the ‘
what ifs’
consumed him.

What if he could have her? What if he could have a family? What if he could have his group and a normal life? He wasn't a house and a dog kind of man, but he would do it to have her.

Talib reached for his phone and called Dalmar. “Are things in place?”

He listened as Dalmar updated him on the recent activity and confirmed that his private plane was waiting for takeoff on his command.

“But there's one issue,” Dalmar continued. Talib knew him well enough to know Dalmar admitting there was a problem
was
a problem. He could handle the messiest details to perfection and made sure that Talib was nearly untouchable.

“I'm listening.” Traffic was moving again and he positioned his phone in a cup holder and activated his Blue Tooth earpiece. He glanced at Camille as she slept. He tore his eyes away from her. Talib knew that the next few hours could change everything he had with her. He enjoyed their night and wanted to thank the bastard who walked out on her because she may never again smile at him the way she did tonight. He would cherish her laughter and the sexy way she moved on the dance floor.

They danced most of the night. Camille let him hold her close on the slow songs and he actually felt faint when she threw her hands up and swayed to an up-tempo song. She was a silent seductress and he had unwillingly fallen under her spell.

“What did you do with Ashanta?” he asked, interrupting Talib’s thoughts.

They had few secrets between them, but Talib found it hard to answer Dalmar. Ashanta was like a little sister to them, yet he let his ambition swallow her life whole. She came to him a young, wide-eyed, ambitious woman and he'd betrayed her trust. His life was full of hard decisions and difficult choices and that would be one he'd carry to his grave.

“She's dead,” he said with a hardness, he’d mastered to mask his indiscretions.

He could hear her threat ringing in his head…“I hope you rot in hell.” He knew he would, but he'd lived in hell most of his life.

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean
am I sure
? Spill it, I'm done with this ask and answer session.” His voice rose and echoed. Camille flinched in her sleep and knocked her clutch to the floor. Talib saw the contents scatter on the floor next to her shoes. The highway streetlights glowed in a steady rhythm as he ate up the highway doing over seventy miles-per-hour. He caught a glimmer and squinted trying to make out the metal object, but he couldn't see it. He'd have to check it out once they stopped.

“Someone used her credit card.”

“What!?” He looked in the rear-view mirror and changed lanes, moving across traffic to the shoulder of the road. He brought the car to a stop and tried to absorb what Dalmar revealed. He knew she was dead. They'd left her in the apartment and one of his men was charged with cleaning the place up and handling the body.

“Yes, I keep track of all our people. We are tapped into all of their credit cards, cell phones, GPS, and vehicles. I flagged Ashanta's records to keep an eye on things and today she had a few transactions. The credit card was processed for a rental car and at a department store.”

Talib groaned in frustration as his head fell back against the headrest. “Maybe someone took her purse.”

“Maybe, but why would they wait nearly a week to use it? Talib, you need to handle this and get out. I have a bad feeling about this whole trip.”

He knew Dalmar was right. It was him. He was different.

Talib had to get his shit together. He was so caught up in Camille that he was losing his edge and his focus.

“Call your hired hand and I'll call Saul. I'll be at the airport and on the flight in the morning. Thanks, man.”

He disconnected the call and prepared to move into traffic. Camille's breathing and the hum of the engine crowded his running thoughts. He had to swallow his feelings and get the job done. He noticed her belongings on the floor and reached to place them back in her clutch. He placed her cell phone, lipstick, house keys, and compact in her purse. The last item was out of reach, so he pushed his foot against the brake pad to give him the extra inch needed to bring the object within reach. He lunged forward and picked it up with a pinch. He held it in his hand and turned on the inner cabin light. It was the locket Camille wore during their lunch.

He dropped it in the clutch with the rest of her belongings when it hit him.
That’s Ashanta's locket!
He retrieved the locket and examined it beneath the map lights.
How had he missed it? What was she doing with it?
He turned the locket over and rubbed his finger across the engraving.

He placed the locket in his breast pocket and called Saul. Talib would get to the bottom of everything, tonight.

* * *

Marc's phone vibrated, signaling an incoming call. He glanced at the display hoping it was Camille and then sighed in resignation. It was Russell.

“Did you get the picture?” He spoke in a low voice, moving from the doorway as people began leaving the party.

“Yes, but that's not why I'm calling.” Marc glanced around the room, recalling the way Camille danced with Talib. He could feel his heart racing. He wasn't a jealous man, but something about her brought out a new side of him, a side of himself that he did not recognize. Hell, he couldn't recall a time he felt this off guard about any woman, not even Ebony.

“Why did you call?” he asked gruffly. Most of the IJDC people were gone. He watched as the staff removed the cold food and cleaned the banquet room.