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BEFORE BLACK DIAMOND
JA’NESE DIXON
Contents
PRAISE FOR “BLACK DIAMOND”
...
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This book was given to JOANNA RĄCZKOWSKA
on Instafreebie.
www.instafreebie.com
BEFORE BLACK DIAMOND
JA’NESE DIXON
Contents
PRAISE FOR “BLACK DIAMOND”
Free Short Story
Introduction
1. Where I Want to Be
2. Fearless Goodbye
3. New Beginnings
4. Angel in Disguise
Sneak Peek! Black Diamond
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Free Short Story
Precious Stones Series [Novels]
Also by Ja’Nese Dixon
About the Author
PRAISE FOR “BLACK DIAMOND”
“BLACK DIAMOND was not your typical page turner.”
Danyelle Scroggins
Author of His Mistress or God’s Daughter
“If you enjoy intrigue, thrills, romance, and fast-paced
storytelling, then you owe it to yourself to check out
Ja’Nese Dixon’s debut novel, the romantic suspense
Black Diamond.”
Shon Bacon
Author of Death at the Double Inkwell
“BLACK DIAMOND starts with action that will draw you
into the story from the prologue until the last sentence of
this shiesty story of cat and mouse.”
Yolanda M. Johnson
Author of Circumstances
“[In] Black Diamond, Ja’Nese weaves us a tale of love,
trust, betrayal, murder and greed - all the things that
make a story good!”
Nanci Arvizu
Page Readers Book Club (Scottsdale, AZ)
“Ja’Nese Dixon made the characters real for me. She
cleverly described each character so well that I felt as
though I was part of the story as an extra. … The twist in
the storyline rivals that of authors who are well known for
writing mystery and suspense novels.”
P. Johnson
Reader in Texas
“A fast paced page turner, will keep readers up late into
the night. Twists, turns, and sexual desires abound in
this exciting read…”
S. A. Wilkinson
Reader in Illinois
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organization and events
portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems,
without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.
Copyright © 2011 by Ja’Nese Dixon
All rights reserved.
Excerpt from Black Diamond copyright © 2010 by Ja’Nese Dixon.
For more information address:
Purpose Prevails Publishing
2231B Center St. STE 144
Deer Park, TX 77536
www.purposeprevailspublishing.com
I want to dedicate this book to the wonderful readers at
RAWSISTAZ. You women are AWESOME!
Introduction
Before Black Diamond is a collection of short stories
introducing you to a few key characters in Black
Diamond.
Black Diamond is a romantic suspense story following
Camille Blackwell, an undercover FBI agent, as she
investigates an international diamond trading company in
hopes of identifying the domestic players in a vicious
rebel group suspected of trafficking conflict diamonds.
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
international rebel group, as her personal feelings muddy
an already difficult situation.
I aim to write stories with real issues, drama, and
depicts characters daring enough to risk it all with a
healthy dose of love and romance. And these stories are
a peak into who the characters were before their lives
collided in Black Diamond.
Happy Reading!
M
ONE
Where I Want to Be
CAMILLE BLACKWELL
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
became one of the boys and since my brother wanted to
follow in Dad’s footsteps by joining the Marines, I, as his
little sister, had to one up him.
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
of her latest cases and how she “protected Americans in
a special way.” At one point, we made eye contact and
she winked.
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’t let it go, even if I no longer want it.
I am persistence, almost to a fault. Others call my
personality trait stubborn and we are all entitled to our
own opinions, but I can’t let it go, no more than I can give
back my mother’s large-dreamy eyes or my father’s
bushy, sandy brown eyebrows. It’s me.
And in true Blackwell fashion, my brother and I did
what we set out to do. He went from military school to the
Marines. I stuck my nose in the books and set out on my
journey to become a special agent for the Federal
Bureau of Investigation. I made little time for anything
else and my dedication has paid off, I am now celebrating
six years with the Bureau. I am one of very few women
and I’m the only Black woman on my team.
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
the International Jewelry Distribution Company.
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
required me to work my way through the ranks. I’ve never
had a case run this long. It’s been nearly two years and
now the Bureau’s threatening to shut me down.
Yeah right, pigs will fly first!
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
Vice President of International Accounts.
I know my latest promotion will provide the information
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
successfully close this case.
Then, and only then, will I slow down long enough to
hang pictures on my walls and consider finding a date. I
have to start somewhere and a date with a nice
respectable man, maybe a teacher or programmer, 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, I will find love.
My father found love after my mother. He and his wife,
Janice, have it. Romantic kisses exchanged in the kitchen
while she cooks. Caresses of assurance from her to him,
for no other reason than to communicate I love you.
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
attempt to seek forgiveness for your mild misjudgment. In
the end, I found myself nursing a broken heart and my
relationship with my boss went from stellar to rocky.
Ron Nelson had it all. His caramel skin, baritone
voice, and body sent from heaven fooled me. He too is an
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
looking elsewhere. I swiftly gave him the boot.
I am not your regular ole’ everyday woman that is
happy just to have a man. I know my worth. I don’t need
a relationship to validate who I am. I left my relationship
with Ron, swearing off bad boys and men in law
enforcement. But the whole situation makes me wonder if
I’m asking for too much.
I want someone that will look pass my bossy ways,
my tendency to shut the world out—escaping into silence
—and my need for honesty, although I live a
dishonest life.
And there lies the rub.
How can I demand honesty? And I lie for a living. I lie
so much that sometimes I wish they were true. The
women I portray make my actual life seem pathetic. I run
around hiding pictures of the people I love. I have to miss
holidays and birthdays and I can’t remember the last time
I took a vacation or had sex.
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, something sends them packing and I’m tired
of fighting. I wanted kids and a husband; however, I don’t
think it’s in the cards for me.
I thought it was possible to have it all. Am I wrong?
What should I expect? Can I expect to continue in my
career and find a man confident, driven, loving, loyal, and
monogamous? Do men still love women the way my
father loves Janice or the way my brother loves his wife? I
hope so.
Is that too much to ask?
M
TWO
Fearless Goodbye
TALIB KAMWI
y life started in a small village in South Africa
with my family.
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
outside the group can be deadly. However, over the years
I have noticed that I cannot recall much of my childhood,
except that day.
I was sitting on the floor at my mother’s feet. She was
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.
That was a happy time for me.
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, members of the Imperial Dynasty, a rebel group,
invaded our small village. We were defenseless with the
men off working. All we had was a village full of women
and children that left to care for the animals and land.
My mother was closest to the fire, using the flames as
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
setting rather quickly. I listened as her voice carried about
the crackling of the fire, saying, “stop running, stop
running” but the softness of her tone and the hint of
laughter in her eyes only encourage my sisters.
Who knew that life could change so drastically?
I lie on my mat doing nothing more than fiddling with
the hem of my trousers, when a piercing scream rang
through the air. The members of the group crept into our
village. Silence fell over our hut. I sat up, meeting my
mother’s eyes, as my sisters froze mid-skip. They
exchanged a look of terror that still haunts my dreams.
My mother dropped everything, scurrying to her mat.
She pulled out a spear and told us to bunker down in the
far corner.
Her eyes went from cheerful play to torn and settled
at determination.
She scanned the hut nervously from left to right and
back again. She assessed us, as if she knew something
that we did not. This all occurred in a matter of minutes,
but it felt like hours. A chorus of anguished weeping and
the sound of a mini-stampede snapped us into action.
“Mama, please! Please let me go. You stay. Papa said
I am the man of the house,” I said as I looked into my
mother’s eyes, praying she would let me go.
“No,” she said as she held me in an embrace so tight
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,
you fight for them.” I followed her eyes to my sisters. “Do
you hear me Talib? You fight!”
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
never have again.
My mother silently cried as she held them in her arms.
She whispered her goodbyes and they nodded in
response, not fighting her impending departure.
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’s necks in a grip that would have been a cause for
concern in any other situation. As stood motionless as
their slow rock and silent cries enfolded into the
darkness.
I turned away from them and stood to block their view
of our doorway. My mother stomped out the fire that once
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
never be the same.
I watched as my mother glance back at me over her
shoulder and mouthed, I love you, before she ran out into
the piercing sea of women and children wails, and the
thunderous roar of men’s voices.
I never saw my mother again.
I
THREE
New Beginnings
HAROLD UNDERWOOD
’ve never really been attracted to Black women. I
could probably attribute it to several factors, growing
up in the 50s and 60s held strict rules about inter-
racial relations. I never subscribed to them, but I am
sure that somewhere in the innermost workings of us we
still see skin color as a line of division. But Ashanta
fascinates me.
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
its own.
EVERY SUMMER WE OFFER AN INTERNSHIP PROGRAM. SAUL
recommended Ashanta for the program. She was a MBA
student at the University of Houston. I initially declined,
but Saul persisted. I agreed to interview her just to shut
him up.
The day of her interview, I sat behind my desk. I had a
plan: get rid of her. As I reviewed her resume, I felt my
body respond to the sound of a velvety voice from the
reception area.
How could I be turned on by a voice? I thought.
I was. And it frustrated me.
“You’d think I’m a school boy or—.” The buzz of the
intercom chimed. “Yes.”
“Your eleven o’clock appointment has arrived. Should
I show her to the conference room?”
And risk her seeing this boner?
“No, Alice,” I quickly responded, “send her in.”
I’m sure my assistant was puzzled since my office
meetings were usually reserved for more pressing
matters, but what choice did I have since I needed time to
calm my ranging hormones?
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
tapped on the door, causing me to jump as she made her
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
the woman with the velvety voice.
“Alice, call Brian back and schedule a meeting ASAP.”
I handed the messages back to Alice as she made the
necessary introductions.
“Yes, sir. Mr. Underwood, this is Ashanta, uhm dear,
please help me with your last name,” Alice asked, letting
friendliness radiate through her professional tone.
Ashanta chuckled and my eyes shot up to meet deep
brown eyes that matched her smooth throaty voice.
“Ke-na-ni,” she said slowly as if teaching a child to
phonetically read a six- syllable word.
“Yes, Ashanta Kenani. She’s a candidate for the
internship program in the Global Supply Chain
Department,” Alice said. Her right arm extended toward
the chairs facing my desk.
“I’m aware. Please leave us. Inform me of Brian’s
response.” I missed the slight brow lift delivered by Alice
due to my curt tone.
“Yes, sir,” she responded, unaware of my sudden
discomfort. She turned to Ashanta, “it was nice meeting
you, dear. I will see you shortly.”
“Thank you, Alice.” Her smooth tone and smile made
me wonder if I could get her to smile at me that way.
Alice left the room, leaving us alone. We stood staring
at one another. Her dark chocolate skin made my fingers
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.
“May I have a seat?”
She startled me out of my mental foreplay.
“Pardon me, where are my manners? Yes, please
have a seat over on the couch.”
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
remember having Ashanta close.
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
accustomed to my ways.
“It’s fine. I usually like to get to know our interns one-
on-one before bringing them in to meet the entire
department.” I lied smoothly.
Hell, I could not recall any of our interns. I only
agreed to this interview to appease Saul. But she’s
different, I know it. I knew I had to hire her.
Her eyes flashed in immediate awareness, “I got the
position.” Her statement sounded more like a question.
“Yes, of course, you’re the best. And we have nothing
but the best.”
Ashanta smiled, as the glossy burgundy lipstick
accented her beautiful teeth. She moved to the couch,
placing her black portfolio across her thighs in the space
between the hem of her skirt and her knees. She looked
at me, waiting.
I cleared my throat, as I took the seat to her right. I
settled in, ready to get to know this beautiful young lady.
“So tell me about yourself.”
W
FOUR
Angel in Disguise
ASHANTA KENAN...