Chapter 13

Marc stared at the clock on the nightstand. It was after eleven o’clock. His flight was scheduled to leave at eight the next morning. He thought he heard the phone ring. He opened his eyes and stilled himself, listening for the ring again. On cue, the phone next to the clock let out a ring. Marc extended his hand, patting around the table in search of the receiver. He snatched the phone up before it could invade the silence again.

He mumbled an incoherent greeting.

“Did I wake you?” Camille asked. He could hear the hesitancy in her voice, but the strain behind her voice is what caused him to sit up in bed. He used the heel of his hand to rub his eyes, forcing himself awake.

Marc sat upright with shock registering on his face. The only light in the room shone from the alarm clock and its soft red glow did very little to reveal the appearance of his face. He thought he scared her off. His honest delivery usually did that. In response, he accepted that they would talk eventually. He did not think his opportunity would present itself so soon.

“Hey, what’s up?” He swung his legs over until they hung from the bed. He waited. Rubbing his eyes, he let out a small groan.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t noticed the time. I will—.” He could hear her fidgeting with the phone. She must be worried or nervous; neither sat well with him.

“Camille, you must have wanted something. I’m up. I’m listening.”

Marc listened as Camille told him about the letter from Ashanta. He made approving sounds when needed, but he did not speak. He knew she needed time to vent and get everything off her chest.

She ended minutes later with an exasperated sigh. He waited. Her nervous giggle made him remember the physical turmoil he felt, yet her distress was more important than his yearning.

“What do you think is going on?” he finally asked.

He could see this case was going south fast. He had inquired at the Agency and had a friend looking into some of the files. He narrowed the potential groups from over a dozen to three. They were dangerous and had remained under the radar.

Marc knew if it came to the attention of the CIA that they were potentially on the hook it could affect her case. Bringing formal charges against a large mastermind would be a great accomplishment for the agency. They would not stop, not even for a second, to consider the time or commitment Camille gave to the case.

He decided to remain silent about his discoveries until he received more evidence.

Marc asked his ex-partner, Russell, to check travel records and the current political climate in several African countries. He knew tracing financial transactions would help, but not with rebel groups. They did most of their transactions underground. He did not expect to turn up much, but it was worth a try. He was confident in Russell's ability to find what he needed, if it was there to be found. Satisfied with the calls he made, Marc knew all he could do now was wait.

“Honestly…I thought one thing, but now…” Her voice faded.

He wished he knew what she was thinking. Marc did not usually spend time wondering, guessing, or hoping, but he was now—yet another sign that he was falling for this woman, and falling hard. He would be terrified…if has wasn’t fascinated by her.

Marc tossed his belongings in a travel bag. He would try to catch an earlier flight. He would have to take it upon himself to offer his assistance until she felt comfortable with his presence. He knew he had no right to claim her, to barge into her life but he found her hard to resist.

“Will you do me a favor?”

He hadn’t known her long, but as an agent, he knew how he would react if he was in her current situation. He would want to head over to Ashanta’s and check things out. However, that was the last thing he wanted her to do alone, especially with Harold’s death.

“It depends on what it is.”

He stopped and placed his hand on his hip. He had to ask her in a way that would not impose on her ability to do her job. He knew he was walking a fine line because the last time he questioned her, she blew a fuse. Unable to sugarcoat his intentions, he decided to go with honesty.

“Camille, I need you to hear me out,” he said, caution evident in his voice.

“Okay.”

He sat on the end of the bed and dropped the last of his toiletries in his bag. He wedged the phone between his jaw and his shoulder, zipping the bag close. Tossing the bag on the floor, he reached for his shoes.

“I would like for you to wait for me before you do anything else.” He waited to hear her response, half expecting a rant, but she said nothing. He took this as a green light to proceed. She would hear him out, and he appreciated it.

“I have a hunch that things are not what they seem and until you hear from Derek, and I from Russell, I would prefer to hang around a bit.”

Again, he waited. Her end of the phone was silent. He would wait until she spoke. He did not want to impose, but he could not bear the thought of leaving her exposed to an unknown, faceless person who might come in and place her in danger. Something told him they were coming for her. It wasn’t a question of whether, but when.

“Marc, I appreciate your concern, but you don’t have to do this.”

“I know. I want to.” She had not turned down his request. This relieved some of the tension gathering in his chest.

“Why?”

The tension returned. He had asked himself the same question more than once since leaving Houston. He was supposed to be on vacation, removing himself from work. Yet, here he was working on a case. However, in this case, he could walk away, except that felt humanly impossible.

How would she fare? Would she find the person responsible? Was she in danger? He knew he could not walk away with these questions running around in his mind.

He lowered his elbows to his knees with the phone gripped close to his ear, searching his mind for the right words. He caught his reflection in the TV screen. Goodness, he even looked different! It was because of his adorable, freckled-faced chameleon. He exhaled the pent up air, giving his lungs temporary relief.

“Honestly, Camille, I’ve asked myself the same question a million times. I could say it’s because Derek asked, but that would only be partially true. You and I know it has some degree to do with the lingering feelings between us. More than anything, I do not want to see you hurt. If I can stand in the shadows and be of any help, I would be satisfied.”

Again, he waited.

“Okay.”

He was certain he had caught her by surprise. They would work out the details later.

* * *

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.