Chapter 21

“The pressures on, but guess who ain't gonna crack...” Camille rapped along with Jay-Z under her breath. She'd let him and Kanye dictate the pace of her run. She would get in a couple of miles before Marc swung by and took her to work. She didn't know the area well, so she decided to make a single loop around the neighborhood. She cranked up the volume and let the road coax her body and mind.

Her body protested. Camille hadn't been on a run in a few days, but she pushed through. Her body was still sore from her lovemaking session with Marc and her mind was overworked because she couldn't sleep. She had an eerie feeling about the break- in and its relation to Ashanta’s death.

Camille needed to clear her mind and prepare for her lunch with Talib. She emailed him and he agreed to move their lunch date up.

A half hour later, she slowed her pace and stopped to stretch on the curb in front of the Fulton’s house. She saw Marc's car parked in the driveway. She made her way in and went back to the guest room. She could hear the chatter in the kitchen. They were a lively bunch. It made her think of her family. They had good times and she loved her stepmother, but it was sometimes strained when they all came together. They were close, yet at times her mother's memory hung between them, making it hard to merge as a family.

She laid her clothes out and let the shower wash away her doubts and concerns for the day. She could smell the scent of bacon, eggs, and biscuits hanging in the air. She could get use to this, she thought.

She exited the adjoining shower to find Marc lounging on the bed. He sat propped on his elbows, facing the bathroom door. She felt nude as she stood before him with a towel wrapped around her body.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning to you, too.” He smiled and was way too handsome for her morning senses to handle.

“May I ask, what you’re doing in my room?” She walked closer, grabbing her undergarments from the bed.

“I wanted to see if you needed any help dressing for work.” They laughed.

“I appreciate the thought, but I think I got it,” she answered, walking back to the bathroom.

“Are you sure?” Marc walked toward her, bringing her damp body against his. He kissed her.

She nodded affirmatively. He held her close. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept like a baby,” she lied. Camille tossed and turned all night, recalling their time in Dallas. Derek's voice, however, killed any delusions she could conjure up about letting her relationship with Marc take its course. The timing was all wrong.

“Now go, I have to get ready,” she said, nudging him toward the door.

“All right, all right.” He backed out of the room. He stood in the hallway and gave her one last mind-blowing kiss before leaving her to dress for work.

Marc had a strong presence—stern and observant. Last night she saw another side of him, calm and relaxed. She met his parents and brother, Jarvis, as they sat around talking for most of the night. She still couldn't recall when or how she got into bed.

Camille stared at the black suit awaiting her. Today she was most anxious about her lunch meeting with Talib. She had to find a way to gain his trust. Ashanta’s warnings about him meant she had to be cautious.

Camille began brushing her hair and placing her tresses into a tight, smooth ponytail. Her reflection displayed the locket hanging around her neck. She held it between her index finger and thumb. With a quick peck, she declared, “Shani, I'm going to figure this out.”

* * *

Talib selected a small family-owned restaurant for his lunch with Camille. He did not need the distraction of a heavy lunch crowd or people vying for attention. He wanted to get to know Camille.

The environment was intimate with soft jazz playing in the background. The day was sunny and the staff lowered the heavy shades on the windows causing the room to appear romantic. He glanced at his watch and allowed himself to wonder, for once, what if?

What if he wasn't required to make hard decisions? What if he didn't decide to stay with Imperial Dynasty? What if he didn't decide to lead them through political turmoil, leaving him responsible for over a hundred thousand men and women? What if he could live a normal life, like the one snatched from him many, many years ago? What if he was waiting to surprise the love of his life?

Talib was much like the men he controlled, whether in boardrooms, political offices or on the streets. He loved the rush. His heart raced and blood pumped full speed every time he secured yet another deal, increasing the Imperial Dynasty's empire to nearly a billion in revenues. His assertive nature and intense hunger for power caused him to forge the most aggressive plans known in his field.

He smiled in amusement. He did not need to overturn the government if they could manipulate those already in power. He found the current system amusing, but it made his organization function efficiently and his members benefited generously for their efforts. They too had learned to adapt and transform as lawmakers tried to place a halt on their livelihood. Talib was convinced as long as men like Saul existed, he would always find a way to land on his feet.

“Would you like a drink while you wait?” The waitress smiled and tilted her head to the side.

He returned her smile, ordered a Scotch on the rocks, and watched her walk away. The women in America were different; they openly flirted. He liked it, but he liked the subtle way Camille carried herself.

He finished his drink quick and signaled for the waitress, stopping once he saw Camille heading in his direction. He wondered how she reacted seeing her place in shambles. Did she notice the file he left for her?

He had more questions than answers. Talib stood and pulled out the chair adjacent to his own. She lowered into the seat and began removing her suit jacket. She wore a rose-colored silk blouse. It matched the light tint adorning her lips.

“Hello, Camille. You look beautiful today.” He smiled, unable to help himself. He would do his job and cringed at the thought of hurting her, but he planned to enjoy her company for as long as he could.

“Thank you. Have you ordered?” She motioned toward his empty glass.

“No, I just had a drink. It's been a long day.”

“Tell me about it,” she said. He loved the sparkle in her eyes.

The waitress appeared and placed their menus on the table. She removed Talib's glass and he took a moment to let Camille fill his senses. Her basic hairstyle gave him a full view of her face. She wore a pair of beautiful earrings. He paused, noticing the locket around her neck. He knew he'd seen her wear the earrings before but the locket was new. It looked familiar.

He combed his mind trying to place it while she ordered a grilled chicken salad. He ordered a T-bone steak and decided to ask, “Are those black diamond earrings?”

She nodded, “Yes, they were a gift from my father. You have an eye for jewelry.”

“I am the interim vice president at IJDC,” he said, comically leaning back in his chair and crossing his left leg over his knee. They shared a laugh as she nodded in understanding. “Besides,” he continued, “I think anyone would notice them. You wear them daily?”

“Just about…they are a constant reminder of my mother.”

He nodded a silent understanding. “Is the locket a family piece as well? I'd guess that it's vintage based on the embossing.” He reached over the table and ran his finger across the swirled carving on the face of the locket’s surface. “It's exquisite,” he added, looking into her eyes. Camille's shock was apparent, but she didn't pull away.

Talib’s smile didn't reach his eyes. He knew the greatest advantage with most people lies in manipulating their feelings. He let his personal attachments to others die with his family, yet he thrived on using emotions to gain trust and insight.

“No,” her voice quivered. “It was a gift.”

The waiter arrived with their meals, relieving the tension between them. “Did I offend you?” She looked up from her plate.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“For asking about your jewelry. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just marvel at unique pieces, especially on a woman as beautiful as you.” He watched emotions dance across her face. She dropped her head before responding.

“I'm not offended. You just caught me off guard.”

“I apologize.”

He'd lay off a little. Talib wanted her to open up, not shut down. They talked over their meal, she did not mention the break-in, and he did not ask about Ashanta. He did not want to ruin the flow of their conversation. Instead, he would find a private investigator and learn more about Ms. Camille Carmichael.

Before they knew, it was time to go. Camille noticed how late it was. “Talib, I can't believe we've talked for over an hour. I have to head back. I have a meeting in less than two hours.”

She reached for her purse to pay for her portion of the bill, but he stopped her. “It's my treat.”

“You'll have to let me return the favor,” she said, slipping into her suit coat.

He tilted his head slightly, nodding his agreement. “You will,” he said to her departing figure, “and then some.”

* * *

Marc listened as Russell briefed him on the few groups on their list. He ran his hand over his face, trying to erase the shock of what he was hearing.

“Russell, what is your gut telling you?”

“Honestly...you may not want to know what I'm thinking.”

Marc waited before responding. Camille was complicating his friendly family vacation. He thought she was a beautiful woman and wanted to get to know her, but she was drawing him in, fast and deep, and that wasn’t on his wish list.

He wanted fun, a good time, and temporary companionship. Nothing about Camille said temporary. She was a woman who would expect marriage and he was a man who didn't intend to go down the aisle again. The alternative was leaving her. He knew she had Derek, but he was moving about the country and leaving Camille in Houston to work alone. Leaving her was not an option he would exercise until the case was resolved. Then he'd move on to the next destination, a cruise for some partying and much needed R&R. He had purchased two tickets while waiting for Russell’s call. Yet he wasn’t sure if he’d ask her to accompany him.

“Tell me what you think,” he reluctantly asked.

“You asked for it.” He knew Russell well enough to recognize that he was buying time, giving Marc a chance to change his mind. “Two of the possible groups are high on the watch list. If you brought one of them in, you could guarantee your request to transfer.”

Marc never considered how helping Camille could help him too. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear more, but he asked anyway, “What do you mean?”

“Dude, that's like you stumbling upon Bin Laden on vacation and walking away,” Russell laughed. “My top pick of the three groups is the Imperial Dynasty, but man, no one has ever come close to snagging those guys. I talked with some agents working that area and they don't even have a clear clue about their numbers or their leadership. They only know about their dealings in diamond mines and some other legitimate businesses. Other than that, I couldn't find much.”

Marc sat back in the chair. Russell continued to fill him in on all that he found.

“What about Talib?”

“It's sketchy. I have records of him attending college, his employment Visa is sponsored by IJDC. The man is a billionaire.” The amusement left Russell's voice. He was back to business.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Marc stood and sat on the end of the desk. “What does he do?”

“He does a little of everything. I'm trying to dig deeper, but I wanted to get back with you.”

“Do you see a visible affiliation between him and the Imperial Dynasty?” Marc asked.

“No, but that's been the issue with this group. They're not holding political rallies or orchestrating suicidal bombings, yet the feedback from agents in the field is that they are deadly and amassing wealth through legitimate channels.”

Marc prepared to head to Camille's after talking with Russell. He decided he'd keep the information to himself until Russell could tell him more about Talib. He felt uneasy about keeping the details from her, but he needed to determine exactly what was going on.

He let off a soft whistle...he's a billionaire. Then what is he doing working as an interim VP all the way in Houston?