Chapter 17

Marc parked by the curb facing the building. He had spent most of the day thinking and rethinking about what occurred between he and Camille that morning. He did not want to rush her and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to start relationship with her with such an important case hanging between them.

Camille exited the glass doors, stopped, and leaned her head back, apparently basking in the sun. It was a beautiful day in Houston. The sun was shining and the temperature was cool enough to ride with the car windows down without melting. Marc walked towards her, taking in her conservative suit. It did her body no justice. Camille was hidden behind a boring navy blue suit and he absolutely despised her signature bun.

“Your chariot awaits,” he said with an elaborate arm wave and she laughed. “Ready?” He grabbed her bags, freeing her hands.

“Yes, are you? And I can drive,” she offered as they walked to his rental car.

“I’m good, besides you look like you need a minute to unwind. Do we need to go by your place? I’ve gassed up and we can hit 45.” He would have the entire trip to pick her mind and Marc planned to figure out what it was about her that made her so appealing. Her beauty was part of it, but his need to assist her with important too.

He also wanted to spend time getting to know her, outside of work. He knew all too well that as an agent you are not quite yourself while undercover. Working undercover for two years had to reflect on her and who she was.

Marc switched all her bags to one hand before opening the door. She slid into the car and allowed her head to relax on the headrest. He closed the door and made his way to the back of the car. He opened the trunk, moving his bags to one side before placing Camille’s inside. His cell phone rang. Marc closed the trunk and answered.

“Russell, man, what’s up?” He leaned on the trunk, noticing he could see the back of Camille’s head.

“Everything and nothing.” They shared a friendly chuckle.

“Man, tell me about it.” Marc felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He searched the streets when a feeling passed over him. He knew someone was watching him.

“Marc, I’m looking into these groups. There are so many players it's difficult to isolate one.”

“Just give me what you got.” Marc walked to the driver’s side, open the door and sat behind the wheel. He opened the storage compartment, pushing the contents around searching for a pen. He found one, grabbed an envelope, stood and used the top of the car as his writing surface.

“Okay, I’ve narrowed your search to Militant Renegade, Imperial Dynasty, and Voice. All three are prominent, but underground in South Africa.”

Marc scribbled the group names down, “How sure are you about these three?” He did not want them shooting in the dark. Any information he could provide would help, as long as it did not lead them in the wrong direction. The window of opportunity for catching these types of groups was usually small, which meant they would have to move quick.

“Honestly, I'm not sure at all. I'm still waiting on bank records, so I had to go for the most known groups with diamond mines. I may have a few more names by Monday. I wanted to give you something to get started on while I try to secure information about each of the groups.”

Marc knew his request required Russell to work outside of their usual contacts since they worked exclusively in the Middle East area for several years.

“I understand, and I appreciate your help with this.”

“Man, I can't dig too much more without raising some flags. I will try to get the financial records and then you're on your own.”

“All right. Also, can you see what you find on Precious Ventures? I know very little about it other than it’s a for-profit company that may be based in Africa. They have a program that offers scholarships to students wanting to study abroad.”

“Yeah man, I got you.”

They talked a while longer. Marc couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching him. He listened as Russell brought him up to speed with the rest of the team. He folded the envelope and shoved it in his back pocket scanning the street again and then looking down at Camille. Based on the rise and fall of her chest, he knew she was asleep.

He decided to use the time to examine the neighborhood. IJDC stood in an isolated area. They were in a well-populated area, hidden in a secluded cove. The building was well secured, judging by the security cameras and the guards patrolling the area, which led to them agreeing to leave Camille’s car on the IJDC grounds.

Marc prepared to end the call when he noticed someone standing in a window near the top of the building. The vertical blinds were open and he could see the man standing, watching him. “Camille, Camille” he said in a hushed tone.

Marc heard her grunt a response. He ended the call with Russell, but kept the phone to his ear. “Camille, baby, I need you to wake up, but move slow.”

“Move slow?” That woke her.

“Yes, move slow, I think someone is watching us from the building.” He heard her moving in the car. He did not want to draw attention to his movements. “Do you recognize who it is?”

“Yes, I know him. It's Talib.”

He got in the car, inserting the key into the ignition. He brought the car to life and merged into traffic.

“What do you think that was about?” Marc asked, driving to the highway.

 “I'm not sure. We had an interesting conversation today.” Camille began removing her suit jacket.

“Really, about what?” He didn't take his eyes off the road, but the tone of his voice changed.

“Nothing much really, but he opened up. I'm going to lunch with him Monday.” 

“Do you think that's a good idea?” He glanced at her as she tossed her jacket on the backseat. She wore a silk white blouse. He could see the lace trim of her nude color bra peaking through the opening of her blouse. Marc redirected his attention to the road.

 “Yes, why wouldn't it be? I think he's the key to this entire case. I just don't know how.”

He was still stuck on her sharing lunch with him. Marc wanted to say it was concern for her safety, but that was only partially true. However, he had no right to question how and with whom she spent her time.

They had a long trip ahead and if it was successful, they would know who they were dealing with and her lunch appointment would not be necessary. Deciding to change the subject, he suggested, “Why don’t you sit back and get some rest.”

Camille knew he wanted to say more, but that was his problem. She had a case to solve. He smoothly changed the subject, leading her into telling him more about her conversation with Talib. The more she thought about him the more she wanted to know. She felt a weird connection to him. Maybe it was from knowing that they’d shared the same type of loss. However, she knew she could not forget that he could be the Talib Ashanta spoke of on the recorder, which meant he could be a suspect in Harold’s and Ashanta’s deaths.

 Talib occupied her thoughts as she felt herself falling asleep. Marc turned up the music and they made their way up I-45 towards Dallas. Camille could still see the pained look in Talib's eyes. Could he be responsible?

* * *

Talib sat in his temporary office, which he found stale and lifeless. He missed home. He'd been in Houston too long. He swiveled in the executive leather chair and enjoyed the view from his office window.

Camille filled his thoughts. He chided himself for telling her about his past. He'd never shared that story with another person, but he felt comfortable with her and that worried him.

He stood moving closer to the window, as his reflection greeted him in the tinted glass. He kept a few men close to him, but they were controlled by fear and greed. They had a common understanding and money was at the root of their relationships.

She was different. He knew he had to snap out of it and find his money; however, he and Saul’s search of Ashanta's office proved useless. He was no closer to finding his money. He would search Camille’s home. He hoped to find the mysterious letter that he believed existed.

Talib used his cell phone to instruct his men to meet him at Camille's later. The pretense of acting as the interim president was boring him to tears and working in an office all day made him long for a night on the town. With that thought, he stood and prepared to end his day. He would find a spot to run through, find a willing woman, a few drinks and then he'd meet his men at Camille's.

He reached for the phone and lifted his hand a few inches from his face. He could still feel the warmth of having her hold his hand. He buzzed his assistant and asked for the nearest gym. He would burn off some of his tension before finding a club to unwind.

* * *

Marc parked the car and turned watching her sleep with the seat laid back and her elbow propped on the door. It was almost seven and he knew she was planning to meet her parents. They would visit the jeweler in the morning about the locket and he hoped Russell would call with more information before their meeting with Derek.

He called out to her. Camille mumbled, but didn't open her eyes. “Baby, we're here.” He placed a hand on her leg and gave it a little shake. “Wake up, let's check in and you can get some more sleep in a bed.”

His mention of a bed caused her eyes to open. She rubbed her eyes sitting upright in the seat. Camille stretched and a groan echoed through the car cabin. She sat up and adjusted the seat back to an upright position.

“I'm sorry, I slept the entire trip. I'll drive back.” She gave him a sexy sleepy smile, smoothing her hair.

“No need to apologize, I took a nap earlier. Let's get going.”

He got out the car and walked around to open her door. She grabbed her things while he gathered their luggage and strolled into the hotel.

“Would you like to go with me to my parents?”

Marc paused as they stood outside their room doors. He did not like meeting parents, something about it read permanence, and that was not his intent.

Camille read his silence, “There's no pressure, and my family is cool. I just think having a hot home-cooked meal is better than eating at a restaurant.”

“Can your mom cook?” he asked humorously.

She laughed at his joke, “Yes, she can.” She swiped her room card key through the slot in the door to her room. The light turned green and she propped the door open with her foot.

“It's settled. You'll come home with me. I'll call them and let them know we'll be there around nine.”

“Okay. That will give us enough time to stop and grab some wine or something. I don't want to meet your parents empty handed.”

She shook her head, but didn't argue. “See you in a bit.”

He waited as she entered her room. He could hear her moving around. He followed her lead and walked into his suite next door. He dropped his bag on the luggage rack. He could not believe he was meeting her parents. He would go with the flow, he thought while stripping down to his birthday suit.

Marc stood under the hot shower loosening the tension from the ride and from his growing awareness of Camille. The first night they met at the club, he found her extremely sexy. Now, he knew a different side of her, her conservative side with the plain suits and boring bun. It all hid a curvy figure and her soft ringlets that made him want to reach out and run his hands through her hair.

His muscles flexed recalling their intimate interlude in her kitchen, but he had no intent of tying himself down to one woman and everything about her read wife material. He knew his family would love her. He would not introduce the two because he knew his mother would take that as a sign of him settling down, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Marc exited the shower and lay on the bed to air dry with a towel around his waist. He would help her solve the case and move on to his next location. A cruise sailing from Galveston was beginning to sound better every day.