Chapter 25

Where was she?

D stood in the doorway and the room was empty. He turned on his heel, retracing his steps. He pulled out his cell phone and snarled into it. “Get over here, now!”

* * *

Talib made his way through Houston. He decided to drive to the banquet and now he had her. Camille sat in the passenger's seat with her eyes closed. He resisted the urge to stop the car and watch her sleep. Her full breasts over the seductive dip in her dress teased him. She appeared comfortable with her shoes laying on the floorboard and the deep red polish on her toes made him want to reach out and touch her feet.

Talib focused on his drive. Houston's traffic was ridiculous. He noticed the sea of brake lights ahead. He knew the stop and go would not disturb her. He'd placed a few drops of Rohypnol in her wine to lower her defenses, but he silently hoped he would not have to force her to disclose what she knew about his money. He knew it was wishful thinking to hope their relationship was real and that it could hold the potential for something more permanent. The thought made him cringe. He'd cut ties with women years ago. His group was his life, however, the more time they spent together, the more the ‘what ifs’ consumed him.

What if he could have her? What if he could have a family? What if he could have his group and a normal life? He wasn't a house and a dog kind of man, but he would do it to have her.

Talib reached for his phone and called Dalmar. “Are things in place?”

He listened as Dalmar updated him on the recent activity and confirmed that his private plane was waiting for takeoff on his command.

“But there's one issue,” Dalmar continued. Talib knew him well enough to know Dalmar admitting there was a problem was a problem. He could handle the messiest details to perfection and made sure that Talib was nearly untouchable.

“I'm listening.” Traffic was moving again and he positioned his phone in a cup holder and activated his Blue Tooth earpiece. He glanced at Camille as she slept. He tore his eyes away from her. Talib knew that the next few hours could change everything he had with her. He enjoyed their night and wanted to thank the bastard who walked out on her because she may never again smile at him the way she did tonight. He would cherish her laughter and the sexy way she moved on the dance floor.

They danced most of the night. Camille let him hold her close on the slow songs and he actually felt faint when she threw her hands up and swayed to an up-tempo song. She was a silent seductress and he had unwillingly fallen under her spell.

“What did you do with Ashanta?” he asked, interrupting Talib’s thoughts.

They had few secrets between them, but Talib found it hard to answer Dalmar. Ashanta was like a little sister to them, yet he let his ambition swallow her life whole. She came to him a young, wide-eyed, ambitious woman and he'd betrayed her trust. His life was full of hard decisions and difficult choices and that would be one he'd carry to his grave.

“She's dead,” he said with a hardness, he’d mastered to mask his indiscretions.

He could hear her threat ringing in his head…“I hope you rot in hell.” He knew he would, but he'd lived in hell most of his life.

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean am I sure? Spill it, I'm done with this ask and answer session.” His voice rose and echoed. Camille flinched in her sleep and knocked her clutch to the floor. Talib saw the contents scatter on the floor next to her shoes. The highway streetlights glowed in a steady rhythm as he ate up the highway doing over seventy miles-per-hour. He caught a glimmer and squinted trying to make out the metal object, but he couldn't see it. He'd have to check it out once they stopped.

“Someone used her credit card.”

“What!?” He looked in the rear-view mirror and changed lanes, moving across traffic to the shoulder of the road. He brought the car to a stop and tried to absorb what Dalmar revealed. He knew she was dead. They'd left her in the apartment and one of his men was charged with cleaning the place up and handling the body.

“Yes, I keep track of all our people. We are tapped into all of their credit cards, cell phones, GPS, and vehicles. I flagged Ashanta's records to keep an eye on things and today she had a few transactions. The credit card was processed for a rental car and at a department store.”

Talib groaned in frustration as his head fell back against the headrest. “Maybe someone took her purse.”

“Maybe, but why would they wait nearly a week to use it? Talib, you need to handle this and get out. I have a bad feeling about this whole trip.”

He knew Dalmar was right. It was him. He was different.

Talib had to get his shit together. He was so caught up in Camille that he was losing his edge and his focus.

“Call your hired hand and I'll call Saul. I'll be at the airport and on the flight in the morning. Thanks, man.”

He disconnected the call and prepared to move into traffic. Camille's breathing and the hum of the engine crowded his running thoughts. He had to swallow his feelings and get the job done. He noticed her belongings on the floor and reached to place them back in her clutch. He placed her cell phone, lipstick, house keys, and compact in her purse. The last item was out of reach, so he pushed his foot against the brake pad to give him the extra inch needed to bring the object within reach. He lunged forward and picked it up with a pinch. He held it in his hand and turned on the inner cabin light. It was the locket Camille wore during their lunch.

He dropped it in the clutch with the rest of her belongings when it hit him. That’s Ashanta's locket! He retrieved the locket and examined it beneath the map lights. How had he missed it? What was she doing with it? He turned the locket over and rubbed his finger across the engraving.

He placed the locket in his breast pocket and called Saul. Talib would get to the bottom of everything, tonight.

* * *

Marc's phone vibrated, signaling an incoming call. He glanced at the display hoping it was Camille and then sighed in resignation. It was Russell.

“Did you get the picture?” He spoke in a low voice, moving from the doorway as people began leaving the party.

“Yes, but that's not why I'm calling.” Marc glanced around the room, recalling the way Camille danced with Talib. He could feel his heart racing. He wasn't a jealous man, but something about her brought out a new side of him, a side of himself that he did not recognize. Hell, he couldn't recall a time he felt this off guard about any woman, not even Ebony.

“Why did you call?” he asked gruffly. Most of the IJDC people were gone. He watched as the staff removed the cold food and cleaned the banquet room.

“Look, don't bite my head off. You really need to take a vacation after all of this,” he said humorously. Marc knew he would, but only if she would join him.

“Talk,” he commanded.

“Yeah, yeah, well I was digging and came across a system flag on your friend Derek. He's being investigated.”  

“What? This shit is getting too deep. For what?” Marc ran his hand down his face.

“Treason.”

Un-fucking-believable, how in the hell did he find himself mixed in this madness? “Man, keep digging and I'll call you back. Run Talib's picture through the database. Call me with whatever you find.”

He walked through the banquet room and fell into the closest chair. If Derek was under investigation, what did Camille know? And was she involved? He shook his head in disbelief as he dialed Camille's number. He watched the candle flicker as the flame fought to stay lit. The phone rang until her voicemail sounded.

“Camille, this is Marc. I'm...sorry about tonight. I went to the bar and lost track of time.” He paused, not knowing how to continue, “Call me...”