Chapter 22

Saul always knew holding the president's seat would be nice. He was settled in his father's office, actually his office. He was ready to make some changes and move them into the twentieth century. His father's style of leadership differed from his own. He would increase their international exposure and decrease their line of custom products. He wanted their primary line of business to include international distribution of precious stones. His relationship with Talib was the first step in making that happen. He had increased their supply of diamonds by more than forty percent in the past four years. The fees involved with greasing palms were kicking his butt, but things were looking up.

As a kid, he watched his father move on with his life without his mother. He had built a deep seed of hate for him, which affected their ability to co-exist on good terms. He knew his old man was rotting in hell and that was fine. He deserved it, he and his little bitch, too.

His mental checklist for taking over IJDC was growing. His father was out of the way. Now he needed to handle Talib.

He did not think it was possible to handle Talib, but the sooner he found Talib's money, the sooner he would board a plane and leave Houston. Why did Ashanta have to mess with that man's money? Saul had decided to start with contacting Camille. They could review files and he would have the finance department match records.

Saul's involvement with Talib came by mishap, almost. They met during his travels abroad, nearly a decade ago. They were far from friends, but they worked well together and their association had padded Saul's bank account nicely. His position in international accounts afforded him flexibility and his father rarely researched the details of his accounts. Harold thought letting Saul travel the world building client relations was a great way to keep Saul out of his hair.

Saul, in turn, used that time to his advantage. He knew the men he dealt with, like Talib, gained their stones through questionable practices, but that wasn't his concern. He'd been in some of the world’s most exotic locations only to visit the slums in jeans and gym shoes to shake hands on contracts netting him millions of dollars.

He knew he had to watch his back. Working with Talib, however, had provided security with other groups. Until his recent trip, their prior dealings were limited to one-on-one transacting. Saul didn't know Talib's people and vice versa.

Talib's visit was a total surprise. Saul did not like having him walking around the halls of IJDC, but he was no fool, he'd learned from the best. His father lived by the old adage; keep your friends close and your enemies closer since he had seated his son and greatest enemy at his right hand.

Saul pushed his chair back and moved from behind his desk. He walked toward the open glass displaying Houston's setting sun. The panoramic view of marigold and burnt orange stretched across the cloudy sky. Nightfall was minutes away. He loved sunsets and if he'd known his father's office offered such a display, he would have off’d him sooner. He smiled at his own jaded sense of humor.

Saul still held the same spot until the sun parted, giving free reign to night. His kaleidoscope view was absorbed by the midnight blue sky and a full moon rising to take is rightful place. Saul turned from the glass with his thoughts and memories to comfort the sullen mood that settled over his office. He stopped and stared aimlessly at the chair Talib had occupied while he met with Camille.

She should be able to help him locate the money without raising too much attention. He would have her itemize the details for the latest shipments from Talib's accounts. Saul masked his plan from his father by allocating the shipments of Talib's diamonds across several accounts. This required payments were disbursed in different international bank accounts. He was sure if he located the last shipments he could trace the payments.

He lowered his body into his chair and positioned it in front of his computer. It sounded simple enough. He'd start with Camille. Saul emailed his secretary instructing her to schedule a meeting with Camille. He would try to settle things with Talib by attempting to locate his money. Satisfied with his solution, he began shutting his computer down. 

Saul glanced up from his computer when he heard the janitor moving, emptying the trash in the secretarial cubicles outside his office. He scanned the office and settled his attention on the sitting area. He and his father had similar taste. His move into the office had been as simple as placing Ashley's picture on his desk.

Saul stiffened, recalling his meeting with Camille and the way Talib quietly sat watching the entire meeting. How did he miss that? Saul leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on his knuckles. Talib had watched Camille without saying a word.

Interesting.

* * *

Derek reviewed the documents spread across Camille's table.

“What's your take on the current state of this case?”

He looked up from the spreadsheets in his hands and his sleepless nights showed in his puffy eyes. His disgruntled face unnerved her.

“Ashanta and Talib had a personal relationship that began before she started working at IJDC, as you see in this picture.” She grabbed the picture of a younger Ashanta in a cap and gown.

“It’s the nature of their relationship that I need to understand. She began collecting and storing financial records over three or four years intending to blackmail Saul into severing her ties with Talib.

“That leads me to wonder what caused the shift in their relationship. I haven’t found a direct connection with Talib except in her recording and that photograph.”

Camille stood and began to pace, as she pieced together her thoughts.

“What I need is a little more time. Marc has placed some feelers at the agency and we’re hoping to narrow the number of potential groups. Then we can try to trace one of the groups back to one or all of the companies in these records.”

She stopped. Derek did not interrupt, or ask questions. Camille used the back of her hand to wipe away sweat on her brow. She picked up the picture and stared at it, almost as if she expected a response or explanation. She placed the picture back on the table.

“Then there's this.” Camille dipped her finger below the collar of her shirt and revealed the locket.

Derek stiffened.

She was losing his attention. “I have more records that we’ve had in the past. All I need is a little more time.”

He sat unaffected by her plea as he pushed through the papers.

 “What do you think Talib's role is?” Derek passively asked without looking up from the file.

“Outside of Ashanta’s statements, I don’t know. My instincts say she was on to something, but I haven’t made a direct connection between him and the alleged conflict diamonds. I haven’t learned whether he is in fact the ‘Talib’ in her recording. The picture is the sole evidence of their past relationship at this point.”

“What all did you learn from her recording?”

The doorbell rang. Camille excused herself and walked to the door. She peered out the peephole, it was Marc. She took several cleansing breathes to calm her racing heart. She knew she had to push her budding feelings aside. Derek was in a surly mood and if he caught wind of their personal relationship, it would make her job more stressful.

She knew he meant well, but he had a poor way of showing it. He sat by and watched her decline over her relationship with Ron. It had been difficult to focus on the case and as a result, she found herself near death.

Camille opened the door and Marc leaned in to kiss her softly on the lips, not noticing Derek at the dining room table. She stepped back to avoid his affectionate jester. He lifted a brow in frustration and asked. “What's up?”

“Derek's here,” she whispered.

Derek appeared to be preoccupied with reviewing the transactions. She hoped it was true.

“So?” Marc's disapproval of her answer showed on his face. His jaw was clenched and he pulled back to his full height, looking down on her like a disapproving parent.

“Nothing, just come in. We can talk later.”

Camille stepped aside, allowing Marc entry into the house. He gave her a parting glance before walking toward Derek. She used his towering height to hide her appreciative stare. His broad shoulders and firm backside made her want to pull him to the side and...

“Camille, did you hear me?” Derek asked.

She blinked several times before realizing she was caught like a cat with a canary in his mouth. “Uhmm...no, could you repeat what you said?”

She stepped around Marc and took her seat at the end of the table. He followed her lead and sat across from Derek. Camille knew the look on Derek's face and she didn't like it.

“What have you learned about the companies?” Derek asked.

She ignored the edge in his voice. “Very little, everything appears legitimate on paper. I plan to go back to my office tonight and compare the office files to the records I have from Ashanta.”

He nodded. He seemed satisfied with her answer because he put the papers back on the table and stood.

 “You do that and call me once you return. I'm heading to the police department to follow up on Harold's autopsy and your break in.”

He said goodbye to Marc over her shoulder and walked to the door. He reached for the handle and asked, “Is there something else I should know?” He kept his eyes on Marc, his voice low enough so only she could hear.

“No.” She felt trapped. He knew Marc was watching and probably heard, despite Derek's attempt to be discreet. She heard him grunt a response before opening the door.

“You have until Monday.” He walked out the door without a backwards glance.

She slammed the door. Monday! She had less than four days to close the case. Why did she continue to do this? She went round and round and it always brought her back to the same place–frustration.

Camille stood still and had a silent standoff with herself. She mused...how dare he and who did he think he was? and why I have a mind to... Before she could recover she heard, “Care to tell me what that was about?”

* * *

What if she is a cop?

He was a free man and no one had said a word about the deaths or the diamonds. Yet, Talib couldn't shake the thought. He did not travel to Houston to tangle with the law.

He reasoned that he would rather deal with her than find himself behind bars. However, he felt confident with Dalmar on standby. He would be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary.

It seemed too calm around IJDC, especially considering Harold's and Ashanta's deaths. Everyone continued to work like nothing happened. Today a reminder was sent about the company gathering to help keep the employee morale up following the change in leadership. It was a formal black-tie event and Talib couldn't wait to see Camille.

Talib parked in the IJDC parking lot and made his way into the building. He did not want to discuss his suspicions with Saul over the phone, but he needed to locate a private investigator that worked fast.

An uneasy feeling settled over him and he knew he had to trust his instincts. He grabbed his cell phone as he waited for the elevator.

“Dalmar, make my travel plans for Sunday, for two.”

* * *

Marc had to check himself. She was not his woman and he had no right to stake a claim over her. They’d slept together and that was it.

He was behind the wheel as the silence between them felt on edge. She gave him some piss poor explanation, but he knew it was more. He guessed they both would have their secrets. The tightness in his chest and the rapid beat of his heart reminded him of Ebony's affair.

Marc lowered the windows in the car to allow the fresh air to swirl through the cabin. He couldn't believe he was still affected by his failed marriage. When he committed to his wife, he did it for life. Their families warned them they were marrying too young. They let their youth get the better of them. They did not heed the cautionary tales of love lost since they knew they would survive. The end of his marriage was the single most humbling experience of his life.

In his first year of marriage, they spent more than half their time apart due to his job. Marc was young and had a point to prove to the agency and he wanted to provide a good life for his wife. While he was pursuing the bad guys, she was too. She first began complaining about his position and his inability to call on a regular basis. Her complaints ceased and were replaced by clubbing with single friends.

“Get control of that, bro,” Jarvis warned him. She was a grown woman and he trusted her, but his trust was misplaced. What began as friendly nights out on the town escalated to exchanging phone numbers and his brother eventually caught her. His suspicions began to climb and he asked Jarvis for his help. His brother quickly confirmed his suspicions. She was having an affair. He removed his clothes from their home that day and filed for divorce shortly thereafter.

Marc's ringing cell phone pulled him from his hurtful stroll down memory lane.

“This is Marc.” He glanced at Camille's profile as he brought the car to a stop at the traffic signal.

“Hey, baby bro, you're not going to believe the new assignment I received. I've been asked to investigate Camille Carmichael.”

“What?” Jarvis had his full attention. Someone was looking into Camille's background.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly. They want something, like yesterday. I quoted a five figure fee and he didn't even blink,” Jarvis said.

Marc was not surprised by the request since Jarvis is one of the best private investigators in Houston. His business worked strictly on referrals and his rates were not for the average person. His normal clientele included the Who's Who and it afforded him a comfortable lifestyle.

“I'm running an errand with Camille now. How about I come by your place once I'm done?”

“Do that, and stay safe. I don't like the feel of this.”

“Will do.” He disconnected the line as he approached IJDC. Marc slowed to turn into the parking lot.

“Don't…keep driving and circle the block,” Camille squealed.

Marc drove past the building and made the right at the end of the block. “What did I miss?” he asked, glancing back at the parking lot through the rear-view mirror. He saw two men apparently talking beside a dark SUV. She sat twisted in the passenger seat and looked over her left shoulder.

“I think that was Talib and Saul in the parking lot,” she whispered.

He nodded, giving her time to process what they should do next. He slowed and pulled to the side of the road, shifted into park, pressed the hazard button, and left the car running. They could not see the parking lot from the backside of the block, but he was sure they shouldn't go around just yet.

“Thanks, let's sit here for a few minutes.”

He nodded and realized her visit from Derek distracted him from finding out about her lunch appointment with Talib. “How did your lunch go?”

“Good, we really talked. It‘s hard to believe he could be the person Ashanta mentioned on the recorder.”

He nodded and glanced in the side mirror, watching traffic. The passing traffic illuminated their car. He knew more was going on than Camille realized and he had to determine how far he wanted to get tied up with her case. Marc initially found it interesting and wanted to look out for her, but after watching her and Derek, he wondered if there was more going on between the two of them—and whether he wanted to get involved.

He could hear Russell's encouragement in the back of his mind, however withholding his findings could disrupt her case. He would wait until he talked with Jarvis. The thought of bettering his chance for reassignment held an appeal.

“I think we should swing around the block,” Camille said.

 Marc pulled into the flow of traffic.

“Marc, my last relationship was with an agent and when the relationship ended I was a mess and my case fell apart.”

He glanced in her direction as she peered out the window into the clear dark night.

“This assignment is my first major case since then and Derek is concerned that our personal relationship will affect my ability to close this case.” She turned to look at him.

He heard regret reverberating from her and glanced her way, taking in her silhouette since he could not see her face in the car’s dark interior. Marc pulled into the parking lot. There were only a couple of cars left. The two men and the SUV were gone.

“Do you still want to go inside?” His voice rang harsher than he intended. She flinched slightly and opened the door. He followed as she made her way to the glass doors. He watched the sway of her hips in her blue jeans. He visually swept the parking lot and reached for the door, stepping back to allow her entrance into the building before him.

Camille signed them in while making small talk with the night guard. He watched her smile and tilt her head back, laughing with a scrawny-looking kid. He moved closer and lightly placed his hand on her lower back when she turned to walk toward the elevators. The look she gave him over her shoulder could have frozen ice, but he didn't give a damn. He saw that kid sizing her up.

He felt the elevator ascend. Camille was wedged in the far corner, seemingly trying to place as much distance between them as possible. Marc stepped closer to her and placed his right hand flat against the cool reflective metal wall, blocking her in. He could see a slight quiver pulse through her as he used his index finger to trace the bridge of her nose.

“I don't think we should be doing this.” She said as her eyes slide close. His finger was moving beneath her eyes and he could feel the soft brushing of her long eyelashes. Her chest rose and fell, causing her breasts to connect with his t-shirt clad chest.

Marc cupped Camille's jaw as his thumb traced small circles along her cheekbone. “I'm sure we shouldn't, but I can't help it. There's something about you that makes me throw caution to the wind and take advantage of every moment we have alone.” He captured her mouth as she stole his breath and kept her caged in his embrace as the kiss deepened. Her purr of pleasure vibrated through her and encouraged him to cup her full bottom in the palm of his hand. He squeezed, bringing their bodies together yet another few inches.

The chime of the elevator signaling that they had reached their destination ended their moment, but the look in her eyes let him know it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.