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BEFOREBLACKDIAMOND

JA’NESEDIXON

Contents

PRAISEFOR“BLACKDIAMOND”
FreeShortStory
Introduction

1.

WhereIWanttoBe

2.

FearlessGoodbye

3.

NewBeginnings

4.

AngelinDisguise

SneakPeek!BlackDiamond

Prologue
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3

FreeShortStory
PreciousStonesSeries[Novels]
AlsobyJa’NeseDixon
AbouttheAuthor

PRAISEFOR“BLACKDIAMOND”

“BLACKDIAMONDwasnotyourtypicalpageturner.”

DanyelleScroggins

AuthorofHisMistressorGod’sDaughter

“Ifyouenjoyintrigue,thrills,romance,andfast-paced
storytelling,thenyouoweittoyourselftocheckout
Ja’NeseDixon’sdebutnovel,theromanticsuspense
BlackDiamond.”

ShonBacon

AuthorofDeathattheDoubleInkwell

“BLACKDIAMONDstartswithactionthatwilldrawyou
intothestoryfromtheprologueuntilthelastsentenceof
thisshiestystoryofcatandmouse.”

YolandaM.Johnson

AuthorofCircumstances

“[In]BlackDiamond,Ja’Neseweavesusataleoflove,
trust,betrayal,murderandgreed-allthethingsthat
makeastorygood!”

NanciArvizu

PageReadersBookClub(Scottsdale,AZ)

“Ja’NeseDixonmadethecharactersrealforme.She
cleverlydescribedeachcharactersowellthatIfeltas
thoughIwaspartofthestoryasanextra.…Thetwistin
thestorylinerivalsthatofauthorswhoarewellknownfor
writingmysteryandsuspensenovels.”

P.Johnson

ReaderinTexas

“Afastpacedpageturner,willkeepreadersuplateinto
thenight.Twists,turns,andsexualdesiresaboundin
thisexcitingread…”

S.A.Wilkinson

ReaderinIllinois

Getfourfreeshortstories!

EachstorywillcomewithalittleinsightintowhyIwroteit
andmosttakelessthan30minutestoread.

After the first month, I’ll send monthly updates with

new releases, book reviews, current contests, giveaways
andbook-relatednews.

JoinandgetYOURfreestories!

http://www.jansedixon.com/newsletter

Thisisaworkoffiction.Allofthecharacters,organizationandevents
portrayedinthisstoryareeitherproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorare
usedfictitiously.

Nopartofthisbookmaybereproducedinanyformorbyanyelectronicor
mechanicalmeans,includinginformationstorageandretrievalsystems,
withoutwrittenpermissionfromtheauthor,exceptfortheuseofbrief
quotationsinabookreview.

Copyright©2011byJa’NeseDixon

Allrightsreserved.

ExcerptfromBlackDiamondcopyright©2010byJa’NeseDixon.

Formoreinformationaddress:

PurposePrevailsPublishing
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www.purposeprevailspublishing.com

Iwanttodedicatethisbooktothewonderfulreadersat

RAWSISTAZ.YouwomenareAWESOME!

Introduction

Before Black Diamond is a collection of short stories
introducing you to a few key characters in Black
Diamond.

BlackDiamondisaromanticsuspensestoryfollowing

Camille Blackwell, an undercover FBI agent, as she
investigatesaninternationaldiamondtradingcompanyin
hopes of identifying the domestic players in a vicious
rebelgroupsuspectedoftraffickingconflictdiamonds.

Camille is a modern woman but as an agent she is

fighting to achieve a reasonable balance between her
career and personal life. Along the way, she finds she
has more in common with her target, the leader of an
internationalrebelgroup,asherpersonalfeelingsmuddy
analreadydifficultsituation.

I aim to write stories with real issues, drama, and

depicts characters daring enough to risk it all with a
healthydoseofloveandromance.Andthesestoriesare
a peak into who the characters were before their lives
collidedinBlackDiamond.

HappyReading!

M

ONE

WhereIWanttoBe

CAMILLEBLACKWELL

y action-packed, gun toting, secret life has
been my goal since junior high school. My
mother died the summer before I started
seventh grade, leaving me to live with my

father, Miles Blackwell, an ex-Marine, and my older
brother, Miles Jr. I changed from a girly girl dipped in
pink, to a football loving, sneaker-wearing tomboy. I
becameoneoftheboysandsincemybrotherwantedto
followinDad’sfootstepsbyjoiningtheMarines,I,ashis
littlesister,hadtooneuphim.

I recalled having career day and hearing several

speakers, but the agent stood out. She was a Black
woman dressed in a navy blue pantsuit. Her hair, neatly
pulled back in a bun, gave us full view of her lightly
made-up face. She strolled the stage telling us of some
ofherlatestcasesandhowshe“protectedAmericansin
a special way.” At one point, we made eye contact and
shewinked.

That day I decided, “I’m going to be the baddest FBI

agent you’ve ever seen.” It amused my father, giving me
more incentive to hold on to my declaration. Thinking

about that now it’s so funny how I plant my feet and I
don’tletitgo,evenifInolongerwantit.

I am persistence, almost to a fault. Others call my

personality trait stubborn and we are all entitled to our
ownopinions,butIcan’tletitgo,nomorethanIcangive
back my mother’s large-dreamy eyes or my father’s
bushy,sandybrowneyebrows.It’sme.

And in true Blackwell fashion, my brother and I did

whatwesetouttodo.Hewentfrommilitaryschooltothe
Marines.Istuckmynoseinthebooksandsetoutonmy
journey to become a special agent for the Federal
Bureau of Investigation. I made little time for anything
elseandmydedicationhaspaidoff,Iamnowcelebrating
six years with the Bureau. I am one of very few women
andI’mtheonlyBlackwomanonmyteam.

The action packed life I sought is somewhat true. I

work on great cases, meeting wonderful people. Living
undercover, however, has left my personal life dull and
nonexistent. I can work an assignment for as little as six
weeks to years, which brings me to my current case at
theInternationalJewelryDistributionCompany.

This case is nearly running me into the ground. I am

planted to recover intelligence by working daily as a
jewelry purchaser. However, our lack of company details
requiredmetoworkmywaythroughtheranks.I’venever
had a case run this long. It’s been nearly two years and
nowtheBureau’sthreateningtoshutmedown.

Yeahright,pigswillflyfirst!
I’ve given up two years of spending time with my

family and my adorable niece, of not having a life or
relationship—although I don’t want or need one. As
Camille Carmichael, I have worked hard proving my
abilities, moving from a senior account representative to
VicePresidentofInternationalAccounts.

Iknowmylatestpromotionwillprovidetheinformation

the Bureau needs to close this case and determine
whether IJDC is actively trafficking conflict diamonds in
the United States. I just need them to hold their horses
and let me do what I do best. I plant my feet and don’t
stop until I’m the last person standing. I will find the
people responsible for providing financial gains to
terrorist groups, fueling the deaths of young children,
women, and men in diamond mines in Africa. We will
successfullyclosethiscase.

Then,andonlythen,willIslowdownlongenoughto

hangpicturesonmywallsandconsiderfindingadate.I
have to start somewhere and a date with a nice
respectableman,maybeateacherorprogrammer,would
help with establishing some normalcy in my life. He
would work regular hours, attend church on Sundays,
and have a house with a dog. Yeah…and maybe, just
maybe,Iwillfindlove.

Myfatherfoundloveaftermymother.Heandhiswife,

Janice,haveit.Romantickissesexchangedinthekitchen
whileshecooks.Caressesofassurancefromhertohim,
fornootherreasonthantocommunicateIloveyou.

I thought I had that at one time. Boy, was I wrong.

Have you ever thought you’d finally hit the nail on the
head only to miss it and nearly smash your thumb into
oblivion? You stand holding your thumb in your mouth
nursing it, but the throbbing pain ignores your feeble
attempttoseekforgivenessforyourmildmisjudgment.In
the end, I found myself nursing a broken heart and my
relationshipwithmybosswentfromstellartorocky.

Ron Nelson had it all. His caramel skin, baritone

voice,andbodysentfromheavenfooledme.Hetooisan
agent. The good times ended once I realized he didn’t
want a companion. No, he wanted to change me into

someone that I’m not. Eventually, our work schedules
became too much and he began making unrealistic
demands. He wanted me to leave the Bureau and play
wifey without a ring and when I declined, he started
lookingelsewhere.Iswiftlygavehimtheboot.

I am not your regular ole’ everyday woman that is

happyjusttohaveaman.Iknowmyworth.Idon’tneed
a relationship to validate who I am. I left my relationship
with Ron, swearing off bad boys and men in law
enforcement.Butthewholesituationmakesmewonderif
I’maskingfortoomuch.

I want someone that will look pass my bossy ways,

mytendencytoshuttheworldout—escapingintosilence
—and my need for honesty, although I live a
dishonestlife.

Andthereliestherub.
HowcanIdemandhonesty?AndIlieforaliving.Ilie

so much that sometimes I wish they were true. The
womenIportraymakemyactuallifeseempathetic.Irun
aroundhidingpicturesofthepeopleIlove.Ihavetomiss
holidaysandbirthdaysandIcan’trememberthelasttime
Itookavacationorhadsex.

My once fairy tale-like dreams have dissolved and I

would love to settle into a normal quiet life. The guys I
meet are either scared off by my work schedule or their
player days are not quite over, and I don’t share.
Regardless,somethingsendsthempackingandI’mtired
offighting.Iwantedkidsandahusband;however,Idon’t
thinkit’sinthecardsforme.

Ithoughtitwaspossibletohaveitall.AmIwrong?
WhatshouldIexpect?CanIexpecttocontinueinmy

careerandfindamanconfident,driven,loving,loyal,and
monogamous? Do men still love women the way my
fatherlovesJaniceorthewaymybrotherloveshiswife?I

hopeso.

Isthattoomuchtoask?

M

TWO

FearlessGoodbye

TALIBKAMWI

ylifestarted in a small village in South Africa
withmyfamily.

I do not remember much about my life

prior to becoming a member of the group.

Shit, it might be intentional since having ties to people
outsidethegroupcanbedeadly.However,overtheyears
IhavenoticedthatIcannotrecallmuchofmychildhood,
exceptthatday.

Iwassittingontheflooratmymother’sfeet.Shewas

working on some sort of handcraft at the time—she
would go into town and sell her work at the market to
earn money. While she worked, she would hum. Her
voice would calm me, like a wild animal tamed by a
tranquilizer.

Thatwasahappytimeforme.
I had two sisters, Layla and Mosa, and our father

would leave for months at a time, trying to find
construction work. I had to be about 13 years old. That
evening,membersoftheImperialDynasty,arebelgroup,
invaded our small village. We were defenseless with the
men off working. All we had was a village full of women

andchildrenthatlefttocarefortheanimalsandland.

Mymotherwasclosesttothefire,usingtheflamesas

a source of light to work, as my sisters ran around,
playing with their shadows. The warmth from the fire
fought the impending night chill since the sun was
settingratherquickly.Ilistenedashervoicecarriedabout
the crackling of the fire, saying, “stop running, stop
running” but the softness of her tone and the hint of
laughterinhereyesonlyencouragemysisters.

Whoknewthatlifecouldchangesodrastically?
Ilieonmymatdoingnothingmorethanfiddlingwith

the hem of my trousers, when a piercing scream rang
throughtheair.Themembersofthegroupcreptintoour
village. Silence fell over our hut. I sat up, meeting my
mother’s eyes, as my sisters froze mid-skip. They
exchangedalookofterrorthatstillhauntsmydreams.

My mother dropped everything, scurrying to her mat.

Shepulledoutaspearandtoldustobunkerdowninthe
farcorner.

Her eyes went from cheerful play to torn and settled

atdetermination.

She scanned the hut nervously from left to right and

backagain.Sheassessedus,asifsheknewsomething
thatwedidnot.Thisalloccurredinamatterofminutes,
butitfeltlikehours.Achorusofanguishedweepingand
thesoundofamini-stampedesnappedusintoaction.

“Mama,please!Pleaseletmego.Youstay.Papasaid

I am the man of the house,” I said as I looked into my
mother’seyes,prayingshewouldletmego.

“No,”shesaidassheheldmeinanembracesotight

that it scared me. I pulled back and watched tears roll
down her face. She yanked me back into a hug. She
kissed me roughly and whispered, “Take care of your
sisters until I return. And if you see someone, anyone,

youfightforthem.”Ifollowedhereyestomysisters.“Do
youhearmeTalib?Youfight!”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. I watched as she

embraced my sisters. I felt an immediate sense of loss.
That emptiness is still a constant reminder of what I will
neverhaveagain.

Mymothersilentlycriedassheheldtheminherarms.

She whispered her goodbyes and they nodded in
response,notfightingherimpendingdeparture.

My mother stepped back releasing them to wipe the

trail of moisture from her face with both hands. She
pushed us into the shadows of our hut. Layla and Mosa
sat on the dirt floor, their arms wrapped around each
other’snecksinagripthatwouldhavebeenacausefor
concern in any other situation. As stood motionless as
their slow rock and silent cries enfolded into the
darkness.

Iturnedawayfromthemandstoodtoblocktheirview

ofourdoorway.Mymotherstompedoutthefirethatonce
illuminated an apparition of love and play with her bare
feet. I shivered as the coldness of the night filled the
room. I knew then, like I know now, that our lives would
neverbethesame.

I watched as my mother glance back at me over her

shoulderandmouthed,Iloveyou,beforesheranoutinto
the piercing sea of women and children wails, and the
thunderousroarofmen’svoices.

Ineversawmymotheragain.

I

THREE

NewBeginnings

HAROLDUNDERWOOD

’ve never really been attracted to Black women. I
couldprobablyattributeittoseveralfactors,growing
up in the 50s and 60s held strict rules about inter-
racialrelations.Ineversubscribedtothem,butIam

surethatsomewhereintheinnermostworkingsofuswe
still see skin color as a line of division. But Ashanta
fascinatesme.

Her eyes sparkle when she smiles and she beckons

you to take notice of all that she is. I should not have
these thoughts. She’s my employee and she’s thirty
years my junior. Nevertheless, my mind has a mind of
itsown.

E

VERY

SUMMER

W E

OFFER

AN

INTERNSHIP

PROGRAM

. S

AUL

recommendedAshantafortheprogram.ShewasaMBA
student at the University of Houston. I initially declined,
but Saul persisted. I agreed to interview her just to shut
himup.

Thedayofherinterview,Isatbehindmydesk.Ihada

plan: get rid of her. As I reviewed her resume, I felt my
body respond to the sound of a velvety voice from the
receptionarea.

HowcouldIbeturnedonbyavoice?Ithought.
Iwas.Anditfrustratedme.
“You’d think I’m a school boy or—.” The buzz of the

intercomchimed.“Yes.”

“Youreleveno’clockappointmenthasarrived.Should

Ishowhertotheconferenceroom?”

Andriskherseeingthisboner?
“No,Alice,”Iquicklyresponded,“sendherin.”
I’m sure my assistant was puzzled since my office

meetings were usually reserved for more pressing
matters,butwhatchoicedidIhavesinceIneededtimeto
calmmyranginghormones?

I stood and buttoned my suit jacket as I heard the

footsteps approaching my office door. I glanced down at
my crotch area to see if I would embarrass myself. Alice
tappedonthedoor,causingmetojumpasshemadeher
way into my office. She blocked my view while she
handed me my most recent phone messages. I shuffled
through them trying to move the process along. The
multi-colored slips were of little interest. I wanted to see
thewomanwiththevelvetyvoice.

“Alice,callBrianbackandscheduleameetingASAP.”

I handed the messages back to Alice as she made the
necessaryintroductions.

“Yes, sir. Mr. Underwood, this is Ashanta, uhm dear,

pleasehelpmewithyourlastname,”Aliceasked,letting
friendlinessradiatethroughherprofessionaltone.

Ashantachuckledandmyeyesshotuptomeetdeep

browneyesthatmatchedhersmooththroatyvoice.

“Ke-na-ni,” she said slowly as if teaching a child to

phoneticallyreadasix-syllableword.

“Yes, Ashanta Kenani. She’s a candidate for the

internship program in the Global Supply Chain
Department,” Alice said. Her right arm extended toward
thechairsfacingmydesk.

“I’m aware. Please leave us. Inform me of Brian’s

response.”ImissedtheslightbrowliftdeliveredbyAlice
duetomycurttone.

“Yes, sir,” she responded, unaware of my sudden

discomfort. She turned to Ashanta, “it was nice meeting
you,dear.Iwillseeyoushortly.”

“Thank you, Alice.” Her smooth tone and smile made

mewonderifIcouldgethertosmileatmethatway.

Alicelefttheroom,leavingusalone.Westoodstaring

atoneanother.Herdarkchocolateskinmademyfingers
itch to touch her. I wanted to run my tongue along the
hollow of her neck to see if she tasted as sweet as she
looked.

“MayIhaveaseat?”
Shestartledmeoutofmymentalforeplay.
“Pardon me, where are my manners? Yes, please

haveaseatoveronthecouch.”

I gestured toward the full sitting area in the corner of

my office. I worked a lot of hours and I find myself
sleeping on that couch often. But after today, I’ll
rememberhavingAshantaclose.

I keep my eyes on her as she looked over her

shoulder to the black leather coach near the window
overlooking downtown Houston. She paused, as if
questioning my intentions. She had to become
accustomedtomyways.

“It’sfine.Iusuallyliketogettoknowourinternsone-

on-one before bringing them in to meet the entire
department.”Iliedsmoothly.

Hell, I could not recall any of our interns. I only

agreed to this interview to appease Saul. But she’s
different,Iknowit.IknewIhadtohireher.

Her eyes flashed in immediate awareness, “I got the

position.”Herstatementsoundedmorelikeaquestion.

“Yes,ofcourse,you’rethebest.Andwehavenothing

butthebest.”

Ashanta smiled, as the glossy burgundy lipstick

accented her beautiful teeth. She moved to the couch,
placingherblackportfolioacrossherthighsinthespace
betweenthehemofherskirtandherknees.Shelooked
atme,waiting.

I cleared my throat, as I took the seat to her right. I

settledin,readytogettoknowthisbeautifulyounglady.

“Sotellmeaboutyourself.”

W

FOUR

AngelinDisguise

ASHANTAKENANI

hoever said, “common sense is not so
common”hadmydumbassinmind.

In my defense, I was young, naïve, and

hungry.Butnow,IknowImustfindawayto

getmyfamilybackandthenIwillmakehimpay.

Talib Kamwi is Satan’s perfect student. He has no

heart and he treats people like disposable objects. But
when I met him, I thought he was the most handsome
man I’d seen in my life. He towered over me, his face
chiseledasifamasterfulcarverdedicatedhislife’swork
to making Talib desirable. I only wish that I knew then
what I know now. Maybe my life would not be so
uncertain,waitingonhiseverywhim,wonderingwhether
Iwillreceiveadreadfulcallbearingbadnews.

I was 15 years old, walking home from school and I

cameacrosssomeyoungthugs.Myheartbegantorace.
Welivedinashadypartoftown,butmymotherworked
hard and cleaned many houses to pay for my private
school.Theonlythingsheexpectedinreturnwasforme
todowellinschoolandmakesomethingofmyself.

Ahead several hundred yards stood six or seven

youngboysofvaryingagesdressedintatteredclothes.I
couldheartheirlaughtervibratingofftheconcretewalls.I
stopped and scanned the area. I had to make a choice:
turn around or continue walking and hope their
rambunctiouschatterwouldcamouflagemyrapidshuffle
throughthealley.

Ididn’tseeanyoneelsearound,lookingback,IwishI

would have retraced my steps and taken the long way
home. I childishly thought, what would they want
withme?

Youngandnaïve…
I held the straps of my backpack tight and started

movingthroughthealley.Theyspottedme.Ahushfellas
four of them stopped talking and their mouths hung
open,assessingmefromheadtotoe.Ifelttinypinpricks
crawl the length of my body. I held my breath trying to
determineifIwouldhavetomakearunforit.Imovedmy
feet around in my well-worn patent leather shoes
ensuringIhadagoodgrip.

The boy closest to me wearing a Mohawk turned to

face the direction of their stares. I’m sure he wondered
what had his boys in complete silence. We locked eyes.
Aslightcreasepinchedbetweenhisbrowsashisnostrils
flared.Ibegantoretracemystepsastheybeganmoving
in my direction. They smelt my fear like wild animals. I
watched them cluster together while moving in slow
motion,closingthedistancebetweenus.

IsawalookpassbetweenMohawkandafellowwith

a dingy white t-shirt. I dropped my bag and prayed my
feetwouldtakemeoutofharm’sway.IrantofastIcould
feel my back teeth chattering together, however, my
heavy panting failed to mask their calls. They beckoned
me to stop, “where you going little girl”, “awe, you don’t
wanttoplay”,“we’reniceguys,reallyweare.”

“Get her!” A rich baritone voice bellowed above the

commotion. I glanced back and saw Mohawk’s mouth
moving.

“Please, please someone help me,” I screamed. I

continued to yell for help as I felt them gaining on me. I
prayed that God would send someone, anyone to
saveme.

It’s funny how I now find myself saying that same

prayer.HopingGodwillsendmeawayoutofthismess.
Thatsomeone…anyonewouldhelpmeandmyfamily.

Seconds felt like minutes and minutes like hours as

the stampede of feet pounded the ground crushing the
particlesofglasscoveringtheunpavedpath.Icouldnot
gauge the distance to freedom with the fog of burnt
orange particles encompassing me. I wished I could
disappear but the haze failed at providing the refuge I
earnestlysought.

I screamed and yelled again. I knew I was coming

closer to the alley entrance. This only encouraged them
becausetheirlaughterhungintheairlikethesoundsof
jackals.

Myoncewhiteshirtandsockswereturningorangeas

mytearsmixedwiththeairbornedust.Ierredandlooked
overmyrightshoulderonlytoseethemmerefeetaway.
Theadrenalinepulsingthroughmyveinsaidedinmoving
past the entrance of the alley where I slammed into a
solidfigure.

His strong hands grasped my shoulders ending my

leadonmyassailants.

“Let me go. Let me go.” I twisted, in an attempt to

break his grip. I kicked my legs with all my might. I
connectedwithhisshinandheletoutayelp.Everylimb
ofmybodywasfightingforfreedomfromhimandthem.

“Little lady. Where are you going in such a —,“ Talib

askedasheloweredhisface,bringinguseyetoeye.He
lookedtohisleftandsawthereasonformypersistence.
He stood facing my assailants in the alley. Mohawk
stopped so quickly that his cohorts nearly collided
withhim.

The men held stares. Mohawk’s leaned toward a boy

in a dirty white t-shirt. The exchanged whispers that I
couldnothear.

I shifted my body seeking refuge behind Talib’s tall

frame. I kept my eyes on the alley and my feet planted
firmly on the ground. Talib’s hand reached for me and
securely rested on my upper back. I took comfort in his
embrace as I watched the once courageous bunch
mumbleamongstthemselves.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” Talib squared his

shouldersdirectinghisquestiontoMohawk.

In return, he stuttered an incoherent, “N…n…n…no,

Mr.Kamwi.”

“Well,thengoodday.”
Talib angled his head in a slight dismissive nod. He

stood as still as a statute with his arms crossed over his
broad chest, his expression firm. My eager thugs
retreated, first walking backwards, making sure to keep
Talibinsight.Finally,theyturnedandranintheopposite
direction.

We watched them disappear into the orange haze

that masked how close I had come to becoming another
younggirlrapedandleftfordead.

“Allbetter,”heaskedlookingdeepintomyeyes.
“No…yes…hum…I dropped my back pack.” I could

still feel the tightness in my chest and my legs ached. I
watched his eyes sweep over me as if looking for any
visiblesignofinjury.

HechuckledandIenjoyedthetransformationitdidto

his face. He looked less pensive, more approachable. I
watchedasthesteelshadowliftedfromhisface.

“I’llgetyourbag.Stayhere.”
Even his voice changed. I watched as he jogged

down the alley. He grabbed it with one hand while he
shook the bag free from the dirt with the other. My
thoughtsdancedwithtalesofPrinceCharming,andfairy
tales that only took place in storybooks. And here I was
rescued by a handsome stranger. He sent the bad guys
packingandheescortedmetomydoorstep.

Who knew my knight would turn into a devil in

disguise? He still has the face of a male Adonis that
would make any women lose her senses, but I loathed
himasmuchasIlovemyownlife.

Itwouldtakeyearsformyadorationtoturnintosheer

hate. And if there’s a God, I hope Talib burns in hell
wearing gasoline drawers. Until then, I’ll patiently wait to
sendhisevilasstomeethismaker.

DidyouenjoyBeforeBlackDiamond?

Reviewsareimportant;youcanhelpmebywritingevena
shortone.ItwillhelppeoplefindBeforeBlackDiamond.

The

PreciousStonesSeries

continueswithBlack

Diamond,nowavailable.

Thankyousomuch!TakecareandIhopeto“see”
yousoon.

SNEAKPEEK!BlackDiamond

Camille Blackwell, an undercover FBI agent, poses as a
jewelry purchaser in an international diamond trading
companyinhopesofidentifyingthedomesticplayersina
vicious rebel group suspected of trafficking conflict
diamonds.

The Bureau requests CIA renegade Marc Fulton’s

assistance with sweeping international intelligence to
identify the major rebel organizations with finances and
stateside connections strong enough to evade criminal
prosecution,despiteCamille’sobjections.

Sparks fly when Marc and Camille meet, their

attraction is instant and tense. However, both resolve to

focus on the case. But when Camille receives an
encryptedmemorystickfromamurderedco-workerMarc
maybetheonlypersonshecantrust.

BlackDiamond is the eagerly anticipated debut novel

byJa’NeseDixon.Truelove,likeblackdiamonds,israre
andprecious;butwhenmurderandapersistentcriminal
threatenafrailrelationship,canlovetriumph?

Inaborderlessgameofcatandmouse,willachance

athappilyeverafterbethwartedatthedeadlyschemeof
thefacelessleaderoftheImperialDynasty?

“L

Prologue

ifeisprecious,dear,don’tyouthink?”heaskedina
chilled tone that caused her blood to run ice cold

through her veins. She clutched the phone to her ear,
contemplating her next step. He was nearly a day away
byflight.Whatcouldhepossiblydotoher?

Pushing her thoughts aside, she refused to let her

mind answer the frightening question left hanging.
Instead,sherefocusedonhissuccessfulattempttoscare
herintosubmission.

“Yes,Iknowlifeisprecious.However,Istronglydoubt

whetheryoudo,”sheresponded.

Ashanta Kenani was a proud Angolan woman, but

pride would not solve her dilemma. She sat in her small
condo, alone, near the edge of her bed with her
shoulders back in mock courage. He had a way of
making her feel like a child, which usually meant her
emotions would overrule her common sense. Her mind
could not process the scene fast enough to register the
threatlyingbehindhiswords.

Ashanta pulled the phone from her ear as if it were

poisonous.Hislight-heartedlaughterfloatedthroughthe

air. His cryptic influence had transformed her life into a
livinghell.Sheknewalltoowellthathecouldfoolalmost
anybodywithhisgoodlooksandcharm-butnother;not
anymore.

“Call it what you may, but, I promise you this, cross

meandsomeonewilldie.”

The silence that followed caused her more concern

thanhisthreat.

“But,” he continued, sarcastically, “I doubt you will

takemywordsseriously,withyoubeingintheStatesand
all.Soletmesendamessagethattranslateswellinany
language. Would you hold for a minute dear? Someone
wantstospeakwithyou.”

Ashanta sprang to her feet and began to pace the

floor. Who could it be? The passing seconds felt like
hours.Whathadshegottenherselfinto?Howwouldshe
getoutofit?And,howmanypeoplewheregoingtopay
forherstupidity?

The muffled voices on the other end of the line

caused her to lean closer into the phone, as if it would
help her recognize his surprise guest. It helped. What
sheheardcausedhereyestoburnasherdetermination
meltedintopurefear;thenhatred.

“Don’t…don’t…!”
Ashanta held the phone in a death grip. She

recognizedhermother’sfrailcriesinthedistancemasked
by the commotion of wrestling. Then the phone tumbled
tothefloor.

“Momma!” Ashanta screamed. She hoped her ears

werefailingher.Whatwashedoingwithhermother?

“Hello…”Astrainedvoiceseepedthroughtheline.
“Momma…Momma, what are you doing there?”

Ashantashrieked.

“Ashanta?Baby,I’mscared—“

“Shutup!EitherdoasIsayoryouwilllosemorethan

your finger. Now, pick-up the phone and tell your
daughterhelloforusall.”

She cringed as every muscle in her body responded

tohiswords.

“Don‘t!Ipromise…“Ashantawantedtoshowhimthat

she would comply with his wishes. “I promise I will do
whatever you want. Just leave my mother alone.
Please…pleasedon’tdothis.”

Amidst the commotion, she could hear him laughing.

The laughter was not one of mutual amusement, but of
the devil-playing cat and mouse games. Unfortunately,
shewasthemouse…trapped.

Sling.Thesoundofmetalslicedthroughtheair.Tears

begantostreamdownAshanta’sface.

“Whatwasthat?Answerme,damnit…Momma?”She

screamedforhermother,forhim,foranyone.

Thelinewentdead.
Ashantafelltothebed,crying.Who would pay? She

heard the question ringing in her mind as she stared
blanklyatthephonenowbuzzinginherhand.Shetook
several deep breaths, attempting to slow her racing
heart. The answer was clear; her family would pay the
price for her ambition. He would harm her mother, her
father, and even her young sisters if it served his
purpose. She now knew her naiveté and determination
hadsealedadealwiththedevil.

“Talib,yousonofabitch,thisisnotover!”

T

ChapterOne

he buzzing of the digital clock signaled Camille
Blackwell’s anniversary at International Jewelry
DistributionCompany,herfauxemployerandthe
sourceofoneofthemostchallengingcasesshe

had accepted since joining the Federal Bureau of
Investigationssixyearsago.

Thank God, it’s Friday, she thought, rolling onto her

stomachandhidingherfaceunderneathherpillow.She
almost dreaded the day ahead. It would start early and
end tonight with the office happy hour to celebrate her
anniversaryandlatestpromotion.

Camille pulled back the satin covered haven

determined to end the obnoxious siren beckoning her to
begin her day. She squinted, until the red, glowing
numbers came into focus. It was 4:40 am. She grunted
uponrealizingshehadhitsnoozeonetimetoomany.Her
morning routine was simple, but required that she start
herdayearly.Shewouldrunforanhourandthenspend
sometimereadingtheHoustonChroniclenewspaperand
browsing the Internet, hoping to find anything to close a
casethatseemedendless.

Camille grabbed her glasses off the nightstand and

tossedbackthecovers,exposinghertothecoolair.She
placed her sock-covered feet into her slippers and
plodded to the small corner desk. She started her
computer before dragging to the kitchen to brew her
morningcoffee.SheselectedSouthernPecancoffee,her
favorite, and mindlessly added the filter and ground
flavored beans as she contemplated the state of the
currentcase.

Camille was an undercover agent assigned to

investigate the suspected illegal dealings between
International Jewelry Distribution Company, or IJDC, and
stateside trafficking of conflict diamonds. The Bureau
suspected that one of IJDC’s key suppliers obtained its
stones from diamond mines in South Africa. Her
directives required that she observe company relations,
identifythemajorsuppliers,andformrelationshipswithin
the company to determine whether they were in fact,
obtainingtheirmerchandisethroughillegalmeans.

Her degree in international business and minor in

fashion merchandising made her the Bureau’s prime
candidate to pose as an account representative
responsible for purchasing precious stones. Initially, she
welcomed the assignment away from DC and him. Now,
sherealizedsheenjoyedworkingatIJDCandforthefirst
time,inalongtime,herlifeseemedsomewhatnormal.

Her job as an agent required much of her time and

when not on assignment, Camille spent her free time
trying to stay connected with her family back home in
Dallas. Since taking the assignment in Houston, she
wenttoworkandsocialized,butwhatshethoughtwould
be an easy, four-month assignment soon became
complicated. Her initial position did not provide the
necessary access to internal records of wholesale

accounts, which left her working double duty to prove
herselftotheBureauandIJDC.

Asignificantchangebegansixmonthsagowhenshe

had been promoted to senior account representative for
InternationalAccounts.Shenowhadafewsubordinates
and things were beginning to look up. She only hoped
she’d uncover something soon or she was sure Derek
wouldremoveherfromthecase.

Camille looked at the clock on her microwave. She

neededtogetamoveonandstartherrun.Shepressed
the timer on the coffeemaker and dashed out of the
kitchentoherbedroomtochangeoutofhernightclothes.
She adjusted an accent pillow as she passed the living
room. Her furnishings closely resembled the crimson-
colored sofa covered in velvety plush microfiber in her
homebackinDC.TheBureauhadsparednoexpenseto
makehercomfortableoncetheyagreedshewouldinvest
more time on the case. The two-bedroom condo placed
herintheheartofHoustonandshewaslessthantwenty
minutes from nearly everything, including IJDC’s
headquarters.

She quickly dressed in a sleeveless top and a black

running skirt and then tamed her unruly, curly tresses
into a ponytail. Camille locked the front door, securing
her house keys and cell phone in the hidden pocket in
the lining of her skirt. She powered up her heart rate
monitorandstartedherstretchingroutinewhilescanning
thestreet,noticingthenormalunoccupiedvehicles.

Camille positioned her earplugs in her ears and

selected her favorite hip-hop playlist. She pressed play,
heading north at a slow jog. She loved running. There
was something about the burn in her muscles and the
ability to exert power over her body, moving beyond her
comfortzone.

This case was much like every other case she

accepted. They challenged her aptitude to find the bad
guyscausingunknownharmtothecountry.Forthatshe
wasproud,however,shepaidagreatcostforservingher
country.

Camille slowed her pace as she approached a red

signal light. Labeling her a hermit would be a
compliment;shehadnolife.Herlastintimaterelationship
ended months before she accepted the IJDC case. She
had a few friends from college and a supportive family,
but she limited her contact with them to minimize their
potential exposure to her cases. The rest of her friends
didnotknowhertrueidentity,leavinghertolivealonely,
isolatedlife.

Dismissing that thought, Camille increased the

volume on her iPod as Marvin Gaye crooned and Jay-Z
rhymedaboutthedeceptionsofAmericanDreamin’. She
decided to take the long route. Her run would serve two
purposes;physicalactivityandtopasstheIJDCgrounds.
She would run the extra five miles, hoping something,
anything, would appear out of place on the premises
becauseshewasreadyforthiscasetoend.

A

LL

W ORK

AND

NO

PLAY

MADE

M

ARC

F

ULTON

A

BORING

MAN

.

But not for long, he thought as he zipped the last
suitcase closed. He decided to travel for a few months
with no definite plans other than visiting his home of
Houston,Texas.Marcgrabbedhisbags,placingthemby
his front door. He expected the car service shortly and
stillneededtowalkthroughhishouseoncemorebefore
headingtotheofficeforthemorningmeeting.

The Central Intelligence Agency had managed to

tamethebeastinhimfortwelveyears,buthewasitching
to be set free. He stood at his patio doors checking the
locks.Next,heensuredthefridgeandtrashwereempty
andthathisfurniturewascovered.

Hiscareerhadaffordedhimasmorgasbordofallthat

life had to offer, whether the best foods and wines or
beautifulwomen.Hehadtheluxuryoftravelingtheworld
whiletrackingdownthebadguys.WhilemostAmericans
slept soundly, he was investigating leads, identifying the
movements of international terrorist groups, particularly
thoseoperatingintheMiddleEast.

Throughout his career, he worked in many

departments, but following 9/11, things had gone south.
His caseload increased and the necessary manpower
haddecreased.Hehadworkedatanunreasonable,and
unrealistic pace leaving his home feeling like a ghost
town and his family wondering if he had evaporated into
thinair.

Moving across international borders and spending

months and months away from his family was taking a
toll on Marc. He thought he could continue until
retirement, but he felt a break was needed to reevaluate
his life and future plans. His original career aspirations
were to train new recruits for the agency. However, he
changed his job classification after his divorce to get
awayandsubmergehimselfinhiswork.

Thatwastenyearsago,andhehadsavedupanice

little nest egg, but the lure of retiring from the agency
almost guaranteed a successful transition into another
career. Maybe he would reconsider teaching and
continuetoaccumulatehistimetowardsretirement.

Hemadehiswaythroughhissingle-familyhomeand

shook his head in amusement. Marc could still hear the

excitementinhismother’svoicewhenhecalledlastweek
totellherofhisplans.Ithadbeenmorethanthreeyears
since his last trip home. He would use the time to catch
upwithhisparents,hitthebeachesinGalveston,andtry
toimitatelifeasthatofanormalperson.Marcchuckled,
he knew Houston would easily bore him, but his mother
wouldbeelated.

Marcansweredhisringingcellphone.Itwasthefront

guard

telling

him

his

driver

was

outside

the

communitygate.

Hegrabbedhisbagsandwithasweepingglance,he

walkedoutthedoormeetingafemaledriverdressedina
tuxedo-influenced business suit. She grabbed his bags
andplacedtheminthetrunkasheactivatedhishome’s
security system. He stopped a foot from the rear
passenger side of the white Lincoln Town Car,
appreciating the slow sweep she gave him from head to
toe. Her gaze stopped at his oblong face and deep, rich
brown eyes and he flashed his signature-crooked smile.
Sheavertedhereyes;shehadbeencaught.

“Hello,Mr.Fulton.Wheretofirst?”
Marc hid his fascination with the slight feline purr in

hervoice.

“I need to stop by my office and then the airport,” he

said, as they stood face-to-face. “I‘ll need you to wait at
the office while I run in. It should take about twenty
minutesorso.”

“Yes,Mr.Fulton.”
“Please call me Marc. Mr. Fulton is my father. And

youare?”

With a slight nod, she opened the passenger rear

door. “Yes, Marc. I’m Aisha. Nice to meet you.” She
grasped the hand he extended. Her husky tone made
himsmileagain.

Yes, this little break is starting on a good note, he

thought. He didn’t have a specific type of woman that
interestedhim,buthevaluedthechase.

“NicetomeetyouAisha.Let’sgetmoving.”
At his curt response, she snapped back into

professional mode. She closed the door behind him and
rounded the car. The car started with a soft hum. He
caught her gaze in the rear-view mirror as she stole
glancesathimduringthedrive.

Marc was ready for this break from his normal pace.

He worked for the past month clearing his cases and
transferringtheremainingonestoaco-worker.Hewould
spend a few months away and explore what he planned
to do for the rest of his life. Working for the agency
curbed his need for adventure, but the hours were long
and the politics of it all was becoming a bore. He didn’t
like bullshit, and the more he advanced, the more it
seemedtobecomeabiggerpartofhisjobdescription.

He caught Aisha’s glances several times. He knew

mostwomenfoundhimattractive,buthehadplayedand
failed at love. He married early and divorced before
celebrating his third anniversary after learning his wife
wasunfaithful.Hedecidedtocuthislosses,knowingthat
he could not sit around babysitting his young bride and
stillstayfocusedonhiscareer.

That was nearly twenty years ago and his mother,

Godhelphim,washintingaboutgrandchildren.Heloved
his mother, but he didn’t see having children without a
wife. He had done that once and didn’t plan to subject
himself to such chaos again. He knew people that
enjoyedbeingmarried,likehisparentswhohadrecently
celebrated their fortieth anniversary. His pops seemed
happy and so did his mother. It was possible for some,
butnotforhim.

Hiscellphoneinterruptedhismusing.“Fulton.”
A smile spread across his face. “Yes, Mom. I have to

stop by the office and check in and then I’m headed to
theairport.”

He watched the scenery roll past as his mother went

on and on. She wanted to pick him up from the airport,
but he planned to go straight to the hotel before seeing
hisfamily.

“Don’tworryaboutmeetingmeattheairport.Ineedto

getarentalcarandIhavesomeplanstomeetupwitha
few college buddies. So, I’ll come by for dinner later
tonight.”

He caught Aisha’s eyes again as the car stopped in

front of the CIA office. He pointed to an open parking
space,andshemaneuveredthecarintoitashereached
forthedoorhandle.

Marc bid his mother farewell as he walked into the

discreet field office. He was excited about the break
awaitinghiminTexas.Heincreasedhispaceaddingpep
tohisstepandbeganthesilentcountdowntohismuch-
neededvacation.

“G

ChapterTwo

ood morning, Ms. Carmichael.” The security guard
greeted

Camille

as

she

entered

IJDC’s

headquarters. As usual, he smiled with a hint of
appreciation in his eyes. The building was not open to
the public and entering the private offices required
passing through a metal detector. Mr. Donovan further
ensured their safety by having security guards around
theclock.

Shesathertravelcoffeemugonthesecuritycounter

andsearchedherpurseforheremployeebadge.Camille
usually kept it clipped to her suit jacket, but today she
dressed casual since she planned to head over to the
happy hour directly from the office. The boring badge
seemed to clash with her blouse so she tossed it in her
handbag.

“Good morning, Richard. How are you this morning?”

She continued to fumble through her purse, tossing its
contentsfromsidetoside.

“I’m all right. You look nice today. What’s the special

occasion?”

He patiently waited while openly staring at Camille

observing everything about her from her soft sandy
ringletstoherprofessionallywrappedblousetoherfitted
dark jeans and black boots. She located her badge and
looked up to find his warm smile. He watched her
everymove.

Healwaysspoketoherandsheknewhehadacrush

on her. Camille learned that he only planned to work
security until he completed his master’s degree. He was
cuteandalthoughtherewasnothingfinerthanabrother
in uniform, he was too young for her. She had a job to
finishandrelationshipswhileonassignmentwerestrictly
off-limits. Camille quickly reasoned that looking never
hurtanybody.

“Today’s my second anniversary with the company

and we’re celebrating at Club VIP for drinks around six-
thirty.You’reinvitedtojoinus.”

“IwishIcould,butIhaveclasstonight.”
“Toobad…”Camilledroppedherbadgebackintoher

purse and walked to the elevator bay. She selected her
floorandlookedbacktofindRichardstillstandingwhere
she left him. Why not? she thought to herself shooting
himawinkoverhershoulder.

“Bytheway,youlookreallynicetoday,”hecalledout

to her while leaning against his desk. “Congratulations
andhavefun.”

“Thank you,” she responded as the elevator doors

closed and ascended to the 23rd floor. The office dress
code on Fridays was business casual. Most employees
worejeans,butsheusuallystayedwithastandardblack
ornavypantsuit.

Camille assessed her reflection in the mirrored

elevator as she fluffed her hair. She ran a pinky finger
acrossherglossylipstoeliminatesomeoftheshine.She
wantedtoappearrelaxedandapproachable.Shevowed

to have fun at happy hour and enjoy herself while
catchingupwithherco-workers.

The elevator rang as the doors slid open. Camille

walkedthroughtheoffice,passingthereceptionareaand
makingherwaytotheexecutiveoffices.

As an international company, IJDC had locations in

several metropolitan cities around the world. Houston
served as its flagship and headquarters. The Donovan’s
owned the entire building. IJDC had over three hundred
employees and occupied the top five floors and leased
therestofthebuilding.

Harold Donovan had made a name for himself. He

was known around the world for his eye for exquisite
jewelry. He started a small family-owned jewelry store
and expanded his business model to include a
distribution company. The family still owned a small
jewelry boutique, which only opened for private
showings.

Harold’s success in business was unmatched;

however, his personal life paid the cost for his
unwavering avidity. He had married and divorced four
times and fathered three children. He was a self-made
millionaire and attained it all with help of his jealous
mistress,IJDC.

Camille knew more about Harold Donovan than her

own father. She had to, because it was suspected that
hiddensomewherewithinhisAmerican-Dream-Story,liea
littleblackbookofcontactsthatwouldrivalthatofamob
boss and among those contacts were precious stones
once covered by the blood of innocent people. The
bureau wanted him and she would give them what they
want;oneway,oranother.

Camilleroundedacornerandwasreadytoenterher

office when she froze in the doorway. It appeared her

officebattledtheconfettifairyandlost.Shedroppedher
head,shakingitinamusement.

Asilver“HappyAnniversary”bannerwithmulticolored

letters ran the length of the bare white wall and its foil
trimming appeared to dance and shimmer in the
fluorescent lights. She scanned the room and noticed a
mixed arrangement of tulips in a crystal vase on the
coffeetableinhersittingarea.Sheranherfingeracross
a fuchsia pedal before bending at the waist to smell the
faint,sweetaromaofthebouquet.

“Happy

Anniversary!”

Ashanta

sauntered

in,

assessingherhandywork.“Congratulations,girl!”

Camilleturnedandembracedherfriend.“Didyoudo

this?” She asked with her hand placed on her hip, as if
shewasoffended.

“Guilty.”Ashantaraisedherrighthand,unabashedby

the absolute mess she’d made to celebrate Camille’s
promotiontoVPofInternationalAccounts.

“You know you’re responsible for cleaning this mess

up.” They laughed as they sat on the small couch
overlookingthecity.

“Look at you, all ready for tonight.” Ashanta patted

Camille’shair.“AndIcan’tbelieveyouleftthatgod-awful
bunathome.”Theylaughedagainlikeoldfriends.

“Oh, no you didn’t. Leave my bun alone. It serves a

purpose.Icomeheretowork,notsocialize.”

“Whatever! You looked like an old maid in that

hideous bun. Maybe now we can find you a man.” She
winked and Camille rolled her eyes in true sister girl
fashion.

Ashanta was always trying to set her up with some

randomguy.Rumorhaditthatshewasseeingtheboss
man, Harold Donovan. Camille planned to find out
tonight. She’d take her ribbing knowing that the tables

wouldturnlater.

“Man or not, I’m ready to have a good time tonight.

Thank you for the flowers and the mess.” She glanced
around her office once again wondering how on earth
she was going to accomplish anything with Ashanta’s
handyworkallaroundheroffice;includingherdesk.

“That sounds more like it, give me the praise I

deserve.Iamresponsibleforyoulettingyourhairdown,
puttingonthissexyblouse,andthejeans.Girl,I’mabad
woman.”

The age difference between Camille and Ashanta

seemed to fade as they forged an unlikely friendship.
Theymetandconnectedimmediately.Theybothworked
inthesamedepartmentandweretheonlyblackwomen
inthedepartment;consequently,theyspentalotoftime
together. That coupled with working in a majority male
officeandindustrycementedafriendshipthatwasasafe
haven when times were difficult. They found comfort in
protectingeachother’sinterests.

CamillelistenedasAshantalaidouttheplansforlater

thatevening.Whentheymet,Camilletriedtostaydistant
and show indifference for her co-worker, but things
changed. Long hours, rough office politics, and many
promotions later they were almost inseparable. Camille
hopedandprayedthatAshantawasnotinvolvedwiththe
allegedillegalactivitieshauntingIJDC.

“Outyougo,”Camillestood,usingherhandstoshoo

her talkative friend out of her office. “I have work to do
beforewetakeonthetown.”

AshantaswattedatCamille’shandsanddraggedher

feet as she moved towards the exit. She reached the
doorwayandspunonherheels,facingCamille,alltraces
of humor and the promise of an exciting night left her
face. Camille held her glare and what she saw caused

hertoshiver,butshewaitedforherfriend’sexplanation.

“Hey,Cami,beforeweheadtotheclubIwanttotalk

withyou…awayfromhere.”

Camille knew the use of her pet name meant it was

serious and she did not know how to take the sudden
change in her mood. “Sure Shani. What’s up? Are you
sure you don’t want to talk now?” She placed a gentle
hand on Ashanta’s upper arm, rubbing it trying to calm
thestormshesawstirringinhereyes.

“No, not now,” she said as she glanced over her

shoulder.

Camille followed her eyes. She saw no one coming

down the hall. She closed the space between them,
repositioning her hands to Ashanta’s shoulders, “Are
yousure?”

“No,I’mnotsure,”shenervouslylaughed.“ButIcan’t

discussitrightnow,laterokay?”Theunshedtearsinher
eyesthreatenedtospillover.

Camillewasconcerned,butsheagreed.Shehugged

Ashanta,

giving

her

a

supportive

squeeze

of

understanding.

“Okay.”
“HappyAnniversaryCamille.”
Saul Donovan barged in, not catching on to the

privatemoment.Hestoppedandpassedbetweenthem.

Ashanta turned her back to Saul and began wiping

away the traces of her emotions. It annoyed Camille the
way he walked around as if his DNA gave him a pass to
invadethepersonalspaceofothers,whethertheylikedit
ornot.Harold’spowerhungrysonwassomeonetokeep
youreyeon,andnotinagoodway.

“Thank you, Saul,” Camille said with a fake smile

plastered on her face. “Give us a moment and I’ll walk
downtoyourofficeinaminute.”

“Sure.” Saul paused and gave Ashanta a snarling

glimpsebeforeretreating.

“Hestilldoesn’tlikeme,”AshantasaidbeforeCamille

couldvoiceheruneasewithhispartinglook.

“He’llgetoverit.Haroldisagrownmanandyouarea

beautiful woman. Anyone with brains can see the
chemistrybetweenyoutwo.”Camille’swordsbroughtthe
smilebackintoAshanta’seyes.Theysharedaquickhug
beforedecidingtotalklater.

C

AMILLE

SAVED

THE

REPORT

ON

HER

COMPUTER

AND

BEFORE

organizingthefilesonherdesk,sheleanedforwardand
pressed the intercom button dialing Ashanta’s office.
Their conversation had her worried. She watched her
transform from her normal bubbly personality to an
emotionalwreckinseconds.

She wondered if Ashanta’s mood change had

anythingtodowithSaul’sangertowardstherumors,orif
theirimpendingconversationwouldleadtosomethingof
valuetohercase.

She suspected there was some truth to the rumors

about Ashanta and Harold dating. Especially after
Ashanta failed to correct Camille’s statement following
Saul’sdeparture.Theyhadalottodiscuss.

“Are we still riding together?” Camille asked in

responsetoAshanta’sgreeting.

“No, sorry, my plans have changed. Pick up the

phone.”

Camille removed her earring and grabbed the

receiver.“What’sup?”

Thelinewentsilent.

“Shani, you’re scaring me. What is going on with

you?”Heragitationwasapparent.

Nervous laughter was Ashanta’s only response.

Camille did not want to rush the conversation, but her
feelingsweretorn.Shewasconcernedforherfriend,but
what she was about to share could make a significant
difference in the case. She grabbed a pen and notepad
andshepatientlywaited.

“Cam, I have a lot to tell you. But I can’t do it here.

And it seems,” a smile entering her voice, “I have an
escortforthenight.”

“Anescort?Sotherumorsaretrue…whoisit?”
“You’llsee.Ihavesomuchgoingonrightnow.Iplan

to have fun tonight and worry about the rest later.” The
lastpartseemedmoreforherselfthanCamille.

“Ashanta, I’m here if you need me.” Camille meant it,

even if they found Ashanta was a part of this mess, she
wouldhelpinanywayshecould.

“IknowandIappreciateit.”
“ThenI’llseeyouatClubVIP,withyourmysterydate.”

Camillesaidlightheartedly.

They disconnected the line. She would have to wait.

Herthoughtswentfromworrytoanticipation.Shemaybe
closingthiscasesoon.Onlytimewouldtell.Fornow,she
wouldgofreshenupandheadovertothehappyhour.

A

NIGHT

ON

THE

TOW N

W ITH

J

ARVIS

SHOULD

BE

INTERESTING

,

Marc thought. Jarvis was his older brother. He stood
beforethewallmirrorinhiscorporatesuiteadjustingthe
collar to his button-down shirt. He disregarded his usual
jeans and running shoes for business casual attire.

Houston’s night scene was laid back and his brother
wouldbedressedtokill.Itwashisthing.Marcpreferred
comforttodesignerlabels.

He and his brother were close despite the five-year

agedifference.Tonight,theyplannedtohavedinnerwith
their parents and then head over to Club VIP for drinks.
Marcranhishandsacrosshislow-croppedfadeensuing
that every hair was in place. He couldn’t remember the
last time he had a night with his boys. For the past few
years,hislifemovedatanonstopspeedthatnowlefthim
exhausted. Case after case, endless traveling, and the
nightswhenhe’dawaketoanotherhotelroomwondering
what country he was in, made his life too monotonous –
whichleadtohisrequestforanextendedleavefromthe
Agency.

Was he experiencing a mid-life crisis? He laughed,

“Naw,man,youjustneedtorelaxandmaybefindacutie
toentertainyou.”

Marcmovedovertothenightstandandturnedonthe

music. He would push his career plans and crazy life in
Virginia aside. For the next few months, he would focus
on deciding what to do next with his life. For now, he
lookedforwardtoseeinghisfamily.

Marcglancedathiswatchandrealizedheneededto

headtowardsthelobby.

Waitingfortheelevator,heglancedoutthelargebay

window. He loved being home. The city was alive and
people were moving about. The elevator rang, signaling
the doors were open. Marc turned to enter and met the
eyesofanadmirer.

“After you,” he said as she walked into the elevator.

Herstilettosaddedseveralinchestoherpetiteframe.

Backed against the cool metal, Marc admired her

femininecurves.

“How are you enjoying Houston?” She asked

interruptinghisthoughts.

“It’stoosoontosay.Andyou?”
Her cherry-covered lips spread to reveal beautiful

whiteteeth.“Iamhavingablast.Texansdoitbig.”

If she wasn’t so sexy, he would feel violated. Her

roaming eyes and the slight way she pulled her bottom
lipbetweenherteethpresentedatemptingpicture.Ifhe
wasn’tcareful,thishiatuscouldturndisastrous.

He knew he shouldn’t ask. But what the hell.

“Howso?”

A soft moan filled the elevator. “I could show you

betterthanIcantellyou?”

Her forwardness almost surprised him, almost. She

wasn’thistype,butshesurewasalooker.

“Hum…may be another time.” Marc said with a slight

nodofresignation.

Thedoorsoftheelevatoropenedtothelobbyandhe

gesturedforhertoproceedbeforehim.

“Yourloss,”sheshrugged.“Ifyouchangeyourmind,

I’mhereforanotherweek.Room818.”

“I’llrememberthat.”
He watched her prance away in a backless fire red

dresswithanovertswitchinherhips.

Damn,hedefinitelyneededadrinknow.

W

ChapterThree

ho would have thought she would be
celebrating two years at IJDC? She sure
didn’t. Nevertheless, while spending time
withherco-workersshefeltatwingeofguilt.

They unknowingly built a relationship with her based on
lies. They knew Camille Carmichael as an ambitious,
hardworking, international jewelry purchaser. She
entered as an assistant account representative and now
sheheldthetitleofVPofInternationalAccounts.

Despite the pretense, Camille was proud of this

promotion and knew she earned it. She had convinced
her coworkers she was one of them by keeping up with
seemingly endless travel and working long nights. Her
life consisted of the IJDC, and the bureau’s increasing
pressuretoclosethiscasejustmuddiedthesituation.

“WhatcanIgetcha’,prettylady?”
Thebartenderwasflirtinghard.Hewashandsome,in

aruggedbadboykindofway.Hislonghairgatheredina
low ponytail and his fitted black t-shirt showed off his
sculptedchest.

“I’lltakeafrozenmargarita.”Shereturnedhissmile.

“Andshe’sflirtingtoo.”
“Mind your business?” Camille said jokingly. When

had Ashanta arrived? As she stood to hug Ashanta, she
cameface-to-facewithHaroldDonovan.

Camille pulled back and searched Ashanta’s face for

an explanation. Had she lost her mind? Why would she
show up at work-related function with the boss? Yes,
obviouslyshehadlosthermind.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said with no shame.

She was unfazed by Camille’s judgment filled face. The
slight shrug of her shoulder gestured that it was no
bigdeal.

They knew each other well, but sometimes she had

no idea what Ashanta was thinking. She was smart and
quick,butCamilleknewtherewasmoretoher.Shetried
tobepatientanditkilledhertoadmitthathersuspicions
ofAshantagrewbytheday.

“CongratulationsCamille,youdeserveit.”
“Thankyou,Mr.Donovan.”
“You’re welcome. What do you want, honey?” Harold

asked Ashanta. Camille silently took in their exchange.
His eyes roamed Ashanta’s face and paused at her
mouth. Harold’s gaze turned and bore into Camille,
causingbloodtofloodtoherface.

“Here’s your drink.” The bartender called over her

shoulder. Camille turned and nodded her thanks. She
welcomed the break from Harold’s intense stare. She
grabbedthecoolglassandtookasiplettingtheicylime-
flavoreddrinksettlehernerves.Sheplaceditbackonthe
barandusedhermoisthandstorestorethenormalhue
ofhercheeks.

Camilleknewwithoutlookingatamirrorthatherface

was beet red. She hated having fairer skin. How many
black women blushed? Very few and she was one of

them. It annoyed the hell out of her and so did her
freckles.

She settled in a seat watching them search for a

placetosit.Shescannedtheclub,nursedherdrink,and
started rocking to the music. The DJ had the place
jumping. Camille let the music and the margarita erase
theawkwardscenewithHarold.

The dance floor was full and she waved at a few of

her of her co-workers seated in a reserved area. She
turned to the bar and noticed Saul sitting at a table
alone. It was hard to make out his expression, his body
appeared rigid, and he had a firm hold on his beer. She
leaned forward in her seat to follow the direction of his
glare.AshantaandHarold.Interesting.

T

HEY

ENTERED

C

LUB

VIP,

A

NEW

H

OUSTON

ESTABLISHMENT

catering to young professionals. Jarvis located a table
andleanedintoMarctospeakoverthemusic.

“The crowd is light. But it usually picks up around

6:30orsowiththeafter-workcrowd.”

They placed their drink orders and both scanned the

clubcaptivatedbythemusicandtheatmosphere.

“Greatchoice,”Marcsaidasthewaitersattheirdrinks

onthetable.

“So, man, what brings you back to Houston?” Jarvis

asked.

“I’m tired.” They laughed, but Marc sobered wanting

togetJarvis’takeonhiscareermove.“IthinkI’mreadyto
leavetheagencyandIneedsometimetomullitover.”

Jarvis took a swallow of his longneck beer. Marc

waited for his response. He valued his brother’s opinion

and some part of him hoped Jarvis would aid him in
decidingsincehewasstillunsure.

“That’sabigstep.Whatwouldyoudo?”
“I don’t know. I have enough money saved to travel

andfigureitout.”

“Butyou’renospringchicken,brother.”
They laughed. Marc knew where this conversation

was going. “And your point is?” He lifted his beer to his
mouth, scanning the open layout of the restaurant and
bar.Helikedthevibeheadmittedwhilerubbinghishand
overhisfade.

He would let Jarvis speak his peace while keeping in

mind that his brother was the safe and practical one.
Jarvis married right out of college. His family had a nice
home in an upper middle-class neighborhood. His wife
stayed at home with the kids. They had everything,
exceptthemini-vanandadog.

Everything about his life screamed boring. However,

hecouldn’tdenythatJarvisandDarlenewerehappy;but
wouldhebehappy?Probablynot.

“You

know

what

I’m

talking

about.

Wife…

kids…house.”

Jarvissignaledforthewaiter.
Marc knew his brother had good intentions but he

didn’t plan to settle down any time soon. When he
marriedEbony,heplannedtocommittoherforlife.She,
apparently,hadotherplans.

“I don’t think that’s in the cards for me. Right now, I

just want to take some time to figure out what my next
step is. Then whatever happens; happens. I have no
other expectations beyond that,” Marc said while peeling
atthebeerlabelontheemptybottleinhishand.

“Just remember, you two were young. All marriages

arenotlikethat.”

Marc’s head snapped up and met Jarvis’ direct stare.

Leaveittohimtobringupthepast.Theyrarelyspokeof
his failed marriage or his inability to commit to another
womansince.Heknewhewasn’tstillinlovewithEbony,
butthestingofthebetrayalwasasfreshasitwastwenty
years ago. He did not intend to subject himself to that
typeofdeceptionagain;notinthislifetime.

“ItalkedwithDerektoday.”
Marcwelcomedthechangeofsubject.“Really,what’s

heupto?”

“He’splanningavisit.Heaskedaboutyouandasked

for your number.” That caught Marc’s attention and he
angledhisheadtowardsJarvis.

“Didhesaywhatheneeded?”
“Naw, I’m assuming it had something to do with

acase.”

The DJ was spinning some of the hottest songs on

theradio.Thenoiselevelwasincreasingasmorepeople
madetheirwaytothedancefloor.Jarvisselectedagood
table because Marc was able to view the front entrance,
bar and dance floor with limited obstruction. His brother
wastheconsummateinvestigator.

“Ishestillwiththebureau?”
“Yeah, as far as I know. We’re planning to get

togetherwhenhecomestotownnextweek.”

Marc was curious about why Derek wanted his

number. It had been a few years since they last talked.
Whatever it is must be important, he reasoned, since
agents rarely crossed department lines, especially
betweentheFBIandtheCIA.

“Hum.” He finished his drink. Curiosity held the

silencebetweenthem.

“That’sthesecond‘hum’.What’sup?”Jarvisstopped

movingtothemusictofocusonMarc.

“Youknowit’srareforagentstoworkbetweentheFBI

andtheCIA.It’ssomeoldsibling-rivalrytypemessdating
back to when Truman was president. The tension only
heightened after the release of the investigations
following the 9/11 attacks. Playing politics is becoming
toomuchtohandle.It’snotenoughtojustdoyourjob.”

Just as he finished, Darlene entered the club. She

still looked like the woman Jarvis brought home during
college, having kids only filled out her figure in a
womanlyway.

“Hey, isn’t that Darlene?” Marc tilted his head toward

the entrance of the club. Jarvis followed the direction of
hisstare.

“Yeah, man, let me go over and meet her.” He stood

toleavethetable.Afterwalking,afewsteps,heretraced
themandaskedMarctoorderanotherroundofbeers.

Marc watched his brother walk away. Jarvis and

Darleneexchangedaquickhug.Theymadehimbelieve
thatmarriagewasn’tsobad.Marcsurveyedtheroomand
sawtheclubwasindeedfull.Heglancedtowardsthebar
whilelookingforaserverandnoticedagroupofchatting
women.One,inparticular,caughthisattention.Thepath
betweenhimandthebarseemedtoclear,givinghimfull
viewofthebeautifulwomanwithahaloofcurls.

Her attention averted from her companion’s as if

sensing his interest. They openly assessed each other
and she slightly tilted in her head in his direction
acknowledging their brief exchange. She turned back to
her companion, but stopped, glanced over her shoulder
andsmiled.Thatwasallheneeded.Marcstood,finished
hisbeer,andwalkedinherdirection.

H

E

’

S

COMING

THIS

W AY

. W

HAT

SHOULD

I

DO

?T

HE

TEQUILA

IN

her margarita gave her the bravado to toss him her best
sexysmile.Camilledidn’tthinkhe’dactonit.Placingher
cupandtiponthebar,shenoticedMr.Herseyclosingin
onher.

Ohhell,shethoughtwatchinghimcoverthedistance

inlongstrides.Hemovedthroughthecrowdasifhewas
TysonBeckfordcommandingarunwayinsteadofoneof
acouplehundredpeopleinthissmallclub.Shemightas
wellenjoytheview.

Camille settled back on the bar stool, legs crossed,

elbows resting on the edge of the bar. Live a little, a
smallvoicesaidandwiththat,sheorderedanotherdrink.

Shestartedatthetopofhisclose-cuthairandended

withhiscasualshoes.Shewouldhavepeggedhisstroll
as graceful if he wasn’t such a large man. He had to be
closetosixfeet.

Camille knew he appreciated the redirection of her

attention because he rewarded her with a sexy smile,
which she brazenly returned. They held eyes until he
stopped about a foot from her to let a couple move past
withoutbreakingeyecontact.

She’d flirted with him and now here he was. He

closed the space, moving in so that she could hear him
over the music. He smelled good; almost edible. Where
hadthatcomefrom?

Ifshedidn’tknowanybetter,she’dbetherretirement

on knowing that he was undressing her with his eyes,
andshewasdoingthesame.

“Would you like another drink?” he asked, holding

hergaze.

“No.”Hiseyebrowpeaked,asifsomethingshe’dsaid

hadamusedhim.Hesteppedcloserallowingsomeoneto
movepast.Thesmellofhiscolognetickledhernose.

“Would you like to dance?” He extended his hand.

Her stomach flip-flopped. Oh, boy. She hesitated before
taking his hand. Their brief exchange was throwing her
sensesoff.

“Yes, she would.” Ashanta answered, dousing cold

water on their sensual moment. “Hi,” she continued, “I’m
Ashanta.”

He briefly directed his steamy, spellbinding gaze

towardAshanta.

Camillerealizedherchestwastightandherbreathing

was heavy. Had she held her breath the entire time? He
wasdangerouslysexyandofflimits.

Aftertonight…thetraitorinherheadbeckoned.
“Marc, Marc Fulton.” He made his introduction while

staring at Camille. She appreciated the way his husky
voicecausedadelightfulsensationtotravelthelengthof
herbody.

“Nicetomeetyou,”Ashantasaid.
“Andyouare?”heaskedher,notmissingabeat.
“Camille, and yes, I would love to dance.” His

approval of her response showed in his alluring smile
that would have pegged his previous expression an
irritatedsmirk.Itreachedhissmokyeyesandrevealeda
slightdimpleinhisleftcheek.

Camille felt like a skittish teenager and threw caution

to the wind as she placed her slender hand into his.
Electricity moved between them. His eyes flashed with
awareness,butitquicklydisappeared.

Did she imagine it? No, she reckoned. His breathing

patternchangedandhisfullnoseflaredasheplacedhis
handonherlowerback,leadinghertothedancefloor.

“Thank you, Camille,” he murmured close to her ear.

WherehadthissexyAdonis,comefrom?

“For what?” she asked, trying to maintain her

composure.Camillefeltthelengthofhisbodyalongher
left side as they stood inches apart. She let her eyes
lingeronhisfullmouth,wonderingwhathetastedlike.

“For making this evening interesting,” he answered,

unawareofherracingthoughts.Shehadconcludedthat
drinks mixed with abstinence equaled insane sexual
tension.Shehadtoshakeitoff.

“Howso?”sheaskedwhentheystoppedattheedge

ofthedancefloor.

The selection shifted from upbeat to a slow. She

noticed the younger crowd moving towards the bar and
couplestakingresidenceonthedancefloor.

Marcplacedhishandsonherwaist.Camillefollowed

hisleadandwrappedherarmslooselyaroundhisneck,
as if they had done it for years. He nudged her closer
bringingherbodynexttohismuscularframe.

His large hands braced her lower back and she

noticedthedifferencesintheirsize.Shehadbeenwrong
about his height. He had to be over six feet and
compared to him, her five foot six inch height seemed
comical.

“Where should I begin?” Marc paused to look down

into her face. His gaze was smothering. She saw it
coming. He wanted to kiss her and she wanted him to
kiss her. It felt brazen, but she did. She reasoned that
maybethekisswouldsettlethefirebrewinginthepitof
herstomachthatwasslowlymovingsouth.

Marc lowered his head and captured her mouth in a

fleetingkiss.Thecontrolledfireinherstomachwasnow
a full alarm inferno. She opened her eyes to see his
sparkedwithawarenessashepulledback.

Camille saw raw sexual energy beaming in her

direction. She glanced around the dance floor and
noticed that the song had changed. She stepped back.

He stepped forward, closing the space. Her eyes
venturedbacktohisfull,soft,kissablelips.

Camille needed some space to breath. She stepped

back,extendingherhand,“Thankyouforthedance.”He
took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed her gently
onthebackofherhand.

“Camille, do you know that you’re beet red?” He

chuckledandshejoinedin,relievingsomeofthesexual
tension.

“No,butithappensfromtimetotime.”
“Ilikeit.It’scute.”Shefoundherselfbackinhisarms.

“Andyou’rebeautiful.CanIseeyouagain?”

She paused and looked towards the bar. Something

wasgoingonandCamilleknewsheneededtogetback
onthejob.

“Sure.”
She knew he noticed the change in her mood

because he followed her attention towards the bar. He
didn’t say anything, but they both knew their time
togetherwaslimited.

“Iseverythingallright?”
“Yes,Ineedtorun.”
“How about we exchange numbers and talk over the

weekend?”

“Yeah,sure.”
Her preoccupation with scanning the club drowned

out the noise in the club. She looked at him and he too
begantolookabouttheroom.

“AreyoulookingforAshanta?She’soverthere.”Marc

saidpointingtoaprivateboothonthefarendoftheclub.

Ashanta and Harold sat huddled up. Camille looked

to the seat Saul occupied earlier and found him still
there.

“Thankyou.Igottago.”

She moved out of his embrace, placing her hand

against his chest. She could feel the definition of his
body. She needed to get as far away from Marc as
possible. Camille turned to walk away when he grabbed
herwrist,anddivertedherattentionbacktohim.

“What’syournumber?”
Camillerattledoffhernumber.Henodded,butdidn’t

writeitdown.

“Butyou’renotwritingitdown.”
“I don’t need to. I got it right here.” He tapped his

index finger on his right temple. He leaned, brushed a
quickkissonhercheek,andletgoofherhand.

Camille began moving towards Saul, but paused to

glance over her shoulder. Marc remained in the same
spot,feetplanted,watchinghereverymove.

D

AMN

,

HE

’

S

SEXY

.A

SHANTA

WATCHED

AS

H

AROLD

SETTLED

intothebooth.Hisrelaxeddemeanormadeitappearasif
hepartiedinaclubfullofyoungBlackprofessionalsona
regular basis. He was one of the only white men in the
club,yethewalkedaroundasifheownedtheplace.She
knew he didn’t usually socialize after work but this time,
heattendedtoproveapointtoherandshewasreading
himloudandclear.

Haroldplacedherdrinkonthetableandlazilylaidhis

armalongthebackofthebench,touchinghershoulder.

Ashanta glanced towards the bar. She knew Camille

would have a lecture prepared when they talked later,
and she understood her concerns, but fuck it. Harold
made the madness of her life disappear. Didn’t she
deserveit?

Theymadeastrikingpair,shewasfive-teninherbare

feetwithdeep,richebonyskin,kissedbythemotherland
and he cleared six feet with salt-and-pepper hair, and
twenty years her senior. He had the body of a twenty-
yearoldandthedeterminationofaworldlymanwhotook
whathewanted;noapologies.Shefoundhisroughedge
sexyashell.

“DoyouseethelookonSaul’sface?”Ashantaasked

although she honestly didn’t care about Saul. Nor did
she like him. He was an arrogant bastard and a spoiled
brat. He sat at a table alone, watching them as if
disgusted. She could care less, but she did not want to
comebetweenHaroldandhiseldestson.

Harold shrugged, “I am a grown man. I’m his father.

Who I decide to spend my time with is none of his
business.”Hepausedasifindeepthought.“Ibelievewe
haveanunderstanding.”

Yeah right, she thought. She doubted that he and

Saulhadcometothesameunderstanding.

Harold slid his arm between her lower back and the

cushionedbooth.Hecuppedherhipandpulledherbody
closer to his. Their legs touched, and her body
respondedimmediatelytohisnearness.Thesmellofhis
cologne,thebrandyonhisbreathandswirlofhisfinger,
ashetracedsmallcirclesonherthigh,hadherbuzzed;
anditwasn’tallduetothealcohol.

“Let’s give my son something to watch,” Harold

suggested.

Ashanta parted her lips in an open invitation and he

wastednotime.Hecapturedherlaughterinasmoldering
kiss that erased their casual façade and exposed his
sexual need. She tilted closer, wanting to experience all
thathehadtooffer.

Harold wrapped his hands around the sides of her

neckashisthumbgentlybrushedalongherjawline.He
groaned his approval of her submission and expertly
dartedhistongueintothewarmthofhermouth.

Shewastooenthralledwithhimtocarethattheywere

making out in a club booth. They let the sounds of the
club absorb the moans that passed between them. He
ended their exchange and she captured his lower lip
between her teeth in an intimate nibble before allowing
him to adjust his posture to accommodate his rising
manhood.

Ashanta saw the passion stirring in his crystal-clear

blue eyes mirroring the feelings pulsating through her
body. She had ignored his requests to take their
relationship to the next level, but tonight she planned to
giveintohispersistentpatience.

They knew her misgivings were valid. The reality of

himowningthecompanythatemployedherwasjustthe
beginningofherworries.Whensheaddedinthetwenty-
year age difference, the fact that she was an African
woman and he was a white man, the deck was stacked
againstthem.

“Iwantyou,”hewhisperedashislipsgrazedherear.

Heleanedbackandhissmotheringgazeimprisonedher.
Hisstatementwassimpleanddirect,however,thelookin
hiseyeswasintentwithahintofvulnerability.

Ashanta knew his hesitation was well founded. His

appearance at happy hour signaled a big step in
declaring his feelings for her. She didn’t think he would
actuallydoit.Insomeways,shewishedhehadn’t.

Hemadeithardtorefusewhatheopenlyofferedand

she was tired of fighting her feelings. She decided to
accepthisinvitationandenjoyitforwhatitwasworth.

AshantaturnedintoHaroldandletthesoftnessofher

breastrestagainsthim.Shewantedhimtoo,butgivingin

wouldbethedeathofher.

Haroldranhisindexfingerfromherexposedshoulder

to her forearm leaving a train of tingling need as he
continuedtoseduceher,fullyclothedandinpublic.

“Don’tworrysomuch,honey.”Hereadhermindasif

they had known each for a lifetime. His finger continued
its journey as he ran it across the hollow of her
cheekbone. “I love the look of your beautiful skin. I love
thetasteofyourmouthonmine.Ican’twaittoseeyour
onyx eyes filled with sleepy satisfaction, in my arms, in
mybed.”

She couldn’t breathe. Harold closed the remaining

inch separating them. “Let me love you, honey. Let me
makelovetoyou.”Hepulledbackandmouthedplease.

Damn. He searched her eyes for the answer. She

would give him a dose of his own medicine. Ashanta
wrapped her arms around his neck, running her fingers
throughhishair.Sheflickedhertonguealonghismouth,
stopping only to nibble on his lips before grabbing his
earlobebetweenherteeth.

“Yes,” she finally answered. He rewarded her with

anotherkissthatleftherlightheaded.

“Let’s say our goodbyes.” He stood to let her out of

the booth. Ashanta righted her dress, as she scanned
theclub.

“IwanttofindCamilleandletherknowwe’releaving.”
“Okay, I’ll make my rounds and head to the

men’sroom.”

Haroldpulledherintoapartingkissthatstartedasa

quietstormwiththepatienceofasaintandendedinthe
heat of the devil’s seed. Her legs could barely support
her weight. They felt like jelly stilts. He slowly ended
thekiss.

“Hotdamn!”

Helaughed.“Thatwassounladylike.”
Sherestedherheadonhischesttocatchherbreath.

She would find a way to tell him the truth and save her
family.

“You know I curse like a sailor.” She looked at his

handsomefaceandtookholdofhiserectmanhood.“We
both know you don’t want me for my poised,
ladylikeways.”

“Hot damn.” Harold released a low growl peering at

herthroughloweredeyes.“Let’sgetoutofhere.Now.”

“Yessir,Mr.Donovan.”
Ashanta turned to find Camille. Harold held her hips

and aligned their bodies, positioning his throbbing need
against her round derriere. She could feel the rapid
rhythm of his heart beating on her back. She felt the
warmth of his breath before she heard the low raspy
confessionthatwouldfollow.

“Iloveyou.“
She froze. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. She turned to

seehisface,buthewasgone.Shewatchedhisbackas
heretreated.

She loved him too. Ashanta only hoped their love

wouldbeenough.

H

E

SHOULD

HAVE

SKIPPED

THIS

W HOLE

SCENE

. W

ITNESSING

HIS

fatherwithheralmostmadehimhurl.Haroldstillchased
anythinginaskirt.

Saul ordered another drink. The leggy blonde-haired

woman stepped to the side and revealed Harold. He
stood a few feet away with his hands casually in his
pockets.Histiehunglooselyaroundhisneckandthetop

buttonofhisoxforddressshirtwasundone.

“What is your problem?” His head angled lower to

levelhisstare.

You,Saulthoughtbutdarednotvoice.
“Whatproblem?”Hehatedthathisfatherstillhadthe

power to intimidate him. His eyes frigidly moved about
theroom.

“Don’tplayignorantwithme,boy.”
Boy…“Father,I’magrownman.Ihaven’tbeen,your

boy,sinceyouranoffwithyourlittleofficehussy.”

The dim club lights reflected across Harold’s face

casting a sinister shadow. He turned the chair opposite
Saul toward him straddling it as he rested his forearms
on the back of the chair. The smile on his face did not
reachhispiercingcoldeyes.Hegrabbedtheglassleftby
thepartingwaiterandsmelledthecontents.“Oh,sothis
yakishelpingyougrowsomeballstonight,”helaughed.

Saul squirmed in his chair as his father’s laughter

causedhisstomachtogatherintightknots.

“Oh, don’t stop now Mr. Badass. Say what’s on your

mind,”Haroldprobed.

Saul swallowed a lump the size of a bowling ball,

straining to clear his throat. He inserted his index finger
betweenhisneckandhisshirtcollar,tryingtoloosenits
hold. What he saw in his father’s eyes made him bite
backthewordshewantedtosay.

“Let me help you,” Harold sipped from Saul’s glass

before continuing. “You have an issue with Ashanta?
Growup!WhoIdateorsleepwithhasnothingtodowith
you.AmImakingmyselfclear?”

His voice was a mere octave above a whisper,

enforcing every syllable of the parting sentence through
clenched teeth. Saul flinched. Harold did not wait for
Saul to answer. He stood and walked away with the

drink.

Saul released the pent-up air trying to disregard his

humiliation. His father made him feel like a child and he
hatedtheholdHaroldhadoverhim.Mortifiedhesatwith
his elbows on the table, cradling his head. Saul looked
up only to catch a glimpse of Harold escorting Ashanta
out of the club. The strain of his clenched fist caused
tremors to quiver through his arms. Saul hated him and
her.Heslammedhisfistsonthetable,startlingawoman
walkingpast.Haroldwouldnotgetthelastword.

ReadBLACKDIAMONDnow!

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PreciousStonesSeries[Novels]

BeforeBlackDiamond

:Prequel

AcollectionofshortstoriesaboutafewofthekeycharactersinBlack
Diamond.EachstorywilltakeyoufromtheCEOofaninternationaltoa
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BlackDiamond

:Book1

Anundercoverinvestigationagainstaviciousrebelgroup,suspectedof
traffickingconflictdiamonds,isjeopardized,FBIagentCamilleBlackwellisleft
withnochoicebuttotrustCIAagent,theinfamousMarcFulton.Together,
theymustfindtherebelleaderbeforehefindsCamille.Love,lies,greed,and
preciousstonesfuelthecharactersinBlackDiamondandit’ssuretokeep
youentertainedandontheedgeofyourseat.

AfricanEmerald

:Book2

TalibKamwiconsidersretiringwhenhereceivesacovetedinvitationtojoin

TheConcave—asecretsocietyofinternationalcrimeleaders.Hewillreturn

toAmericaandcompeteagainstMichaelDamon,abishopofamegachurch,

tosecuretheseat.ButwhenTalibrefusestoconspireintheirplotto

systematizesextraffickingheplacesalovedoneindanger.InAfrican

Emerald,Talibmustabandonhisexpensivesuitandtie,anddonthedeadly

tacticsthatmadehimlegendary…tosaveher.

FireOpal

:Book3

…

Comingsoon.

AlsobyJa’NeseDixon

PreciousStonesSeries

BeforeBlackDiamond

(Prequel)

BlackDiamond

(Book1)

AfricanEmerald

(Book2)

ReadyforLoveSeries

CaramelSurprise

(Book1)

Love’sHope

(Book2)

HiddenDesire

(Book3)

Anthologies/BoxedSets

CoffeeConfessions

LoveNeverFails

SecondTime’stheCharm

Toseealistingofallmybooksvisit

http://www.janesedixon.com/books

.

AbouttheAuthor

Ja’NeseDixonpenstalesofromanceinseveralsub-genres.Butherfavorites
are the ones that manage to keep readers sitting on the edge of their seats
lyingtothemselvesaboutreading“justonemorechapter”.

Ja’Neseisanavidreaderandcoffeedrinker,whoalsolovestorun,cook,

andcraft.Herultimategoalasawriteristogiveyoualittle“staycation”with
everystory.Andsheaimstomakethispresentstorynoexception.Sitback,
grabasnackandenjoy.

Ja’Nese calls Houston home with her husband, three kiddos and a four-

leggeddivadog.

Visitherwebsiteat

www.janesedixon.com

ifyouenjoyromance,suspense

andgoodstories.

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