Black Diamond (18 page)

“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.

Camille woke with her face plastered to Ashanta’s file. Her alarm clock rang loud from her bedroom. She sat up and rolled her shoulders in large circles trying to relieve the tension. She stretched and stood to her feet. She looked at the clock on the wall and knew she needed to try to run by the office, however, her tired body disagreed. She was exhausted. All she wanted to do was cuddle up in her bed and sleep for a week.

Camille knew a good cup of coffee would clear the cobwebs. She got the pot going and stopped to enjoy the aroma when her cell phone rang. She scurried around the house until she remembered that she left it on the living room table. She doubled back and searched the table, rummaging through the files and loose documents until she caught it on the last ring.

“Good morning,” Marc uttered in a sexy murmur.
Damn, this man sounds like pure seduction
. She wondered if he knew.

“Good morning, Marc. How did you sleep?” She slugged to her bedroom, fumbling around in her drawers, gathering her running clothes.

“I didn’t,” he said. She stopped.

“You didn’t sleep?” She raised her eyebrows in irritation.

“No, I decided to fly home after we talked last night. I’m in Houston.”

Silence passed between them. She did not like knowing he’d gone without sleep to get back to Houston on her behalf, but she felt a small amount of comfort knowing he returned. She still couldn’t believe Derek was being irresponsive. It made her feel alone; however, with Marc close she felt better.

“Are you going to the hotel to get some rest?” she asked, trying to hide her disapproval.

“No, I’m coming to you.”

She let an audible sigh of relief escape between her parted lips. She should discourage him, but why when she wanted him with her? She closed her eyes trying to fight butterflies two-stepping in her stomach. She collapsed onto her bed. Her tired body was affecting her ability to resist him.

“Marc, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine. You can always come by later.”

“Do you want me to come later?” he asked in a low, husky tone. He waited. Should she lie?

“No,” she whispered so low she could barely hear it.

“I’ll be there in about ten minutes. Bye, babe.”

He disconnected the line before she could respond. Camille slumped to the bed. What was she going to do with him? She would have to think about that later. Why would a man like him show up at a time in her life when everything was chaotic?

Her case was going to hell in a hand basket. She could not find one of her closest friends, and her relationship with Ashanta was connected to the case; she could not help but worry. Camille knew her growing concern had more to do with Ashanta’s well being than the case. She was growing tired of the lying and most of all, not having a say over how she spent the majority of her time.

After this case, she would have to take a long break and decide if the bureau was the best place for her. She found her cases still interesting, but this two-year stint caused her to rethink her life and her career. What would she do? She had always wanted to be an agent.

As a child, she always tried to one up her older brother. When he proclaimed that he wanted to join the military, she decided she wanted to be an FBI agent. She loved her older brother, but their sibling rivalry made their competitiveness run deep, and since that day, she’d altered her every step to achieving that goal.

Now, here she was. She was thirty-four years old and single. She made a decent living; however, she had a beautiful custom built home that she rarely occupied. She had several boyfriends in college, but only one serious relationship. They met in the FBI Academy and dated for several years before moving in together. Ron was handsome and she thought they would marry. However, the more promotions she received, the more turmoil her relationship experienced. He was also doing well, but she outranked him and after living together for six months, she started suspecting he was cheating. He became clingy, demanding more of her time while knowing she had to commit time to her cases. The more she said no, the more he wanted.

What if Marc did the same?

Camille fell back on the bed. That was five years ago, yet she knew parts of her still ached from Ron’s betrayal. He’d hurt her to the core. She had no doubt that she was over him, but she wasn’t sure if she was truly ready to move on to another relationship. She heard a knock on her door. She sat up, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She saw the tear stains on her cheeks. Why was she crying?