Chapter 11

Camille kicked her front door closed with a sigh of relief. Her day was nonstop and full of drama. She removed her shoes at the entrance table, dropping her keys and mail there while securing her grip on the bags of groceries. She made her way to the kitchen and planned to cook a nice meal after taking a shower.

Camille began putting away the groceries, grabbing a few frozen items. As she placed them in the freezer, she thought about Ashanta. She’d gone by her house with no luck. Camille slammed the freezer door closed, reached for the phone and called Ashanta’s house again.

She placed the chicken she bought in a plate that she retrieved from a nearby cabinet. Camille rinsed and seasoned the meat. Deciding on chicken and rice for dinner, Camille reached for a pot and began adding water for her rice after placing the plate in the refrigerator covered in plastic wrap.

The shock of her day came from her meeting with Saul. Talib sat in the corner watching them, not saying a word. A slight chill raced up her spine. She could feel his onyx eyes boring into her. She looked his way hoping he would divert his attention elsewhere, but that request fell on deaf ears. Talib did not look away.

Saul continued to talk as if oblivious to Talib’s interest in her. She wondered what Talib was thinking and what he was doing at IJDC. Camille came to and snatched her cordless phone from the docking station. She wanted to check in with Derek. She’d asked him to look into Talib. She was turning up more dead ends; first Harold’s death, then Ashanta’s disappearing act, and now Talib’s mysterious presence. She had a feeling all three were connected, but didn’t know how.

Camille listened to the phone ring as she tapped her fingers on the countertop. Derek didn’t answer, so she was forced to leave a message. She lowered the temperature under her rice and made her way to the bathroom for a shower.

She turned on the water and walked back to her room, unbuttoning her blouse. She stopped at the foot of her bed and allowed her blouse and pants to fall to the floor. She bent to pick them up when she heard her phone ring. She bundled the clothes in her right arm as she reached to answer the phone.

“Hello,” she said, repositioning the phone on her ear.

“Hello, how are you?”

In the shuffle of readjusting her clothes and the shock of hearing his voice, the phone slipped off her shoulder and landed on the floor. She quickly picked it up with a strong grip. She sat on the edge of her bed with her clothes still in her hands.

Camille heard him laughing. As her cheeks tingled, she exhaled a sharp breath. Why did he affect her so? He turned her into a mumbling, blushing, clumsy shell of her normal take charge, got-it-together, self.

“Hey, sorry about that. My hands were full and I dropped the phone.”

“Really?” he said as if he didn’t believe her. “Should I call back?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said with a slight quiver in her voice. Camille looked around the room for her robe. She felt exposed, even though he was thousands of miles away. She placed her clothes on the bed and moved about the room.

“What are you doing? You sound distracted.”

She could still hear the humor in his voice and the smile on his face. She knew he was playing around, but he was playing with fire. She began searching her drawers for something to put on.

“I was preparing to take a shower. I’ve had a long day. I’m ready for dinner and bed. And you? How is your trip coming along? Did you find anything that could help me?”

“Shower, huh?” he asked in a heated whisper. His voice dropped several octaves. Her body responded with a throbbing hum.

They both sat in silence.

She located her robe and walked into the bathroom to turn off the water. Camille returned to her room and sat on the chase lounge that sat near her bay window. She gave him a second to get himself together. Talking about IJDC was a safe subject.

“The company announced an interim vice president. I was asked to bring him up-to-date with our large accounts.”

 “Was it an internal replacement?” He was apparently more at ease with the direction of the conversation.

“No, today was the first time I’ve met him and I know all of our departments’ heads. But helping him should help me. I will have an opportunity to observe each of the large suppliers. I plan to review the past years worth of transactions.”

“How did your conversation go with Ashanta?”

“It didn’t. She never showed up at work. I called a few times and I went by her house. I’m beginning to worry.”

She went to kitchen to check on her dinner.

“How is her attendance?”

“She rarely misses work. In the past two years, I can count on one hand the times she’s been absent. And each of those I’ve known about because she would call me and fill me in. That’s what has me worried. We usually talk daily.”

Camille pulled her lower lip between her teeth. The more they talked, the more concern she felt for Ashanta.

“Camille, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, did you say something?” She stirred the rice, tapping the spoon on the rim while turning the fire down.

“Yeah, you spaced out on me.”

She heard the tension in his voice. It warmed her knowing that he was concerned. Why would he care about a stranger? They’d only met several days ago.

“Yes. I just have a weird feeling. When are you returning?”

“Actually, that is why I called. I am heading back tomorrow. I talked with a few people. We need to discuss your case some more. I think your reviewing the supplier accounts will help us because I need you to narrow down the region. Try identifying the location that the shipments are sent from.”

“Sure.” His suggestion made sense.

“I will let you return to your shower and dinner. I’ll stop by tomorrow evening. Is seven okay?” The way he said shower had her gripping the phone tighter.

“Sure, I’m usually home by six thirty,” she said after clearing her throat several times.

 “Camille, I think you and I should talk.”

Her back stiffened. “Talk? We are planning to talk.” She would play dumb until he spelled it out.

“No, baby, I think you know what I’m talking about, really talk.”

That was the second term of endearment he’d let slip. The other night the sparks flew between them. She knew her small fit of rage was fueled by the sexual chemistry and tequila. Camille was not a one-night stand kind of woman. She had a feeling this could get serious and she did not like to mix business with pleasure.

Torn between her instincts as an agent and as a woman, she decided to jump in and see how hot the water was.

“About what?” She waited for his response.

“Our attraction to one another, I feel it and I know you do too.”

She paused. She began picking at the bits of lint on her bedspread. His words increased the tension lying between them. She decided the truth would serve them best.

“Marc, I feel it, but I have no intentions on acting on it. I have a job to do.” She exhaled, feeling relieved. There I said it.

“Camille, I hear you, however, I have no intentions of sitting by quietly. We will solve this case and then I plan to set my sights on having you.”

* * *

Marc disconnected the line with Camille. He was both fascinated by her dedication and frustrated by her stubbornness. She was a chameleon. She was fire red when mad, which would have been sexy as hell if she had not stormed out of the restaurant. He chuckled, as he went to take a much needed cold shower. She caused his body to respond with her voice. He dare not think about what he would experience once he touched her bare skin or felt her underneath him.

Marc released a deep sigh of sexual frustration. He realized he could determine her demeanor by her appearance. In her pulled-back professional bun, she appeared conservative. Yet, when she released her mane of wild ringlets, she was full of raw sexiness. He wondered which Camille he would see when he returned to Houston.

He walked through his master bedroom to his private bath. The house had been renovated. His bedroom had been expanded to include a sitting area and a larger master bath. He added an additional walk in closet and double sinks. He paused to glance at the unused sink. At the time he did not give it much thought. Adding the additional space increased his property value, but as he surveyed the empty sink and the nearly empty closet, now used for storage, he wondered what it would be like to have her with him.

Where had that come from? He really needed a cold shower. Camille had him running hot and he was already moving the woman in his house. He leaned forward, adjusting the water temperature. Marc removed his shirt and allowed his pants to drop to the floor. He grabbed his clothes and tossed them in a hamper.

Camille’s freckled, blushing face flashed before his eyes and his groin tightened with need. He had no intentions on letting up. He only hoped she was worth it.

* * *

Girl, get a hold of yourself. Camille stood glued to the same spot. She was learning more about Marc every day. His parting statement was communicated with sheer determination. A soft smile touched her lips. She was beginning to like it…and him.

She could not remember the last time someone had been so focused on getting to know her. She had very few serious relationships in her past, but her limited experienced showed her that men were intimidated by her job or her independence. She’d tried everything, but she couldn’t continue to stroke the male ego. She had better things to do with her time.

Camille quickly showered and walked to the kitchen to finish cooking her dinner. She placed her chicken on the grill. While she waited, she decided to go through her mail. She walked to the entrance table and thumbed through it. Most of it was junk, but she came to a letter that caught her by surprise. She ran her finger over the handwritten script addressed to her. It was a pre-printed envelope from IJDC. She recognized Ashanta’s handwriting.

Camille inserted her finger under the flap tearing the envelop open. She scanned the note reading the closing salutation and signature. It was from Ashanta.

Camille walked over to the couch without thinking. The note was dated two days ago, the day Harold’s death was announced. She sat on the edge of the couch and began reading.

Dear Cami,

I have not been a very good friend. You and I have been close while working at IJDC and I consider you a close friend, but I have not been honest with you. Now is not the time to fill you in, but I am writing this letter because I need your help. I have no one else to turn to.

Camille tried to focus on the paper, but her shaking hands made it nearly impossible to read. She would guess that Ashanta rushed to write the note because the words were scribbled on the page. She steadied the letter between her hands and continued reading.

1st – Don’t tell anyone about this letter. Camille, I am in big trouble. I want you to save this letter in case something happens to me.

I have been saving details from some keys accounts. My reasons are complicated. I can’t share everything now, but I’m sure the owner of these accounts is responsible for Harold’s death. Sharing this with you could put you in danger. So don’t say anything unless you know you’re absolutely safe. I’m afraid that he will come after me, but I had no choice.

2nd – I have a safety deposit box in Dallas. It’s at the Texas United Credit Union. I am enclosing the card and key in this envelope. You have to go to Dallas and retrieve the contents if you haven't heard from me by the time you receive this letter.

BE CAREFUL. If you can, try to take someone with you and it has to be someone you can trust. IT’S A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH.

I love you! I hope that I’m safe, but if I am not, please contact my family and send the contents of the box to them. I am so sorry to get you involved. I had no choice.

Love always,

Ashanta

Camille’s eyes watered. How deep was Ashanta in this mess? She jumped to her feet, retracing her steps to the hall table looking for the envelope. She dialed Derek’s number while holding the business card for Texas United Credit Union between her fingers. She paced the small hallway, only stopping to peer out the front window when she saw the flash of lights from a passing car.

Camille knew something was not right and now the letter confirmed it. She last spoke with Ashanta on Friday, four days ago, and now she was holding this letter in her hand. She removed the cell phone from her ear ensuring she’d dialed the correct number.

Derek did not answer. Camille searched through her cell phone memory and hit redial. Exhaling a sigh of relief, she felt the tension leave her body upon hearing his voice.

“Yeah.”