Warrior's Cross (23 page)

Julian stepped through the doors into the back, looking around for Cameron, just as Miri backed into the service area from the kitchen and almost ran into him as he stood there.

She recovered quickly, apologizing and backing away from him.

“I need to speak to Cameron,” Julian told her softly.

Miri looked unsure as she glanced around. “Perhaps that could wait?” she said uncertainly. “He’s occupied with preparations for the dinner service right now.”

“I’ll find him myself,” Julian murmured as he started toward the kitchen.

Miri gave a little squeak of surprise. “Wait,” she tried as she reached for his sleeve. “That area’s not open to guests, sir. If you go back there you could get us all in a lot of trouble. Including Cameron.”

“Then get him for me,” Julian suggested.

His voice was low and even, but forceful nonetheless. The tone obviously affected Miri. It sent a shiver through her, and she took a tiny step back. Her voice wavered a little when she spoke. “Please… let him be, just for tonight. He seems upset enough as it is.”

Julian closed his eyes and jerked his chin to the side, visibly expressing his disbelief. He’d known when he got the call this would be a bad idea, coming to Tuesdays tonight. He backed away from her in annoyance, then turned and strode to the doors, pushing through them and disappearing into the crowd again without another word.

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CAMERON moved through the restaurant in an exhausted daze, musing over the deflated, disorganized air about the restaurant as the staff cleaned up. These parties always ended with everything in disarray.

People always moved chairs, shoved together tables, and left dirty plates and half-full glasses in odd places.

He didn’t even want to begin thinking about the bathrooms.

Someone always found at least one pair of lacy underwear. Blake kept them in a drawer in his office labeled “Lost and Found.”

Cameron wondered about Blake’s sense of humor sometimes.

Miri broke through his fatigued mental ramblings when she approached him. “Tell me who he really is,” she demanded.

Cameron’s back stiffened immediately. “What do you mean?”

“Julian,” Miri hissed at him. “Who is he, really?” she asked him with a frown, her hands on her hips as she looked at him. “He won’t speak to you in public and he’s… he’s all mysterious and silent and…

scary,” she stammered.

“Scary?” Cameron asked, turning to look at her, surprise on his face. “Why would you think that?”

“He was back in the service area tonight, demanding to see you,”

Miri told him as she folded her arms around herself. “He didn’t even raise his voice at me, but…”

Cameron swallowed hard. He knew Julian could seem intimidating

— tall and dark and hulking, his stoic expression rarely changing and his voice rarely above a whisper. “But?” he pushed.

“He frightened me,” Miri answered quietly. “He
growled
at me.

Does he… is he like that with you? Does he, like… threaten you?”

“Threaten me? No!” Cameron exclaimed, horrified. Why would Julian act like that toward Miri—toward Cameron’s friend? “He’s…

quiet. And gentle, usually.”

Miri looked at him dubiously and shook her head. “What does he do?” she asked. “Why was he here tonight but ignoring you? Is he some closeted politician or a criminal or something? Is he married?”

Warrior’s Cross 161

Cameron’s mouth worked but nothing came out. All of his own unanswered questions started crowding his mind. “I told you. He’s an antiques dealer,” he managed to answer. He took a breath, trying not to overreact. Married? She thought Julian might be married? He quailed at the thought. He really didn’t know, but surely to God the answer was no, right?

“So why not speak to you?” Miri reasoned.

Cameron curled his fingers into his pants legs and shrugged. “I told you. He was working,” he insisted. “Besides, he
tried
to speak to me, but apparently
you
kept him away.”

Miri stepped back, looking hurt. “I couldn’t let him back there,”

she said defensively.

Cameron merely rolled his eyes and shook his head. He turned away to start sorting the plates into stacks to be picked up and taken to the kitchen.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the guy that got dead after the party tonight?” Charles asked them as he walked by with an armload of dirty dishes.

“What? No! What happened?” Miri asked in surprise.

“Somebody said he had too much to drink, stepped in front of a cab or something. It broke his neck,” Charles answered with the sort of morbid glee that could only come from talking about the odd or gruesome death of someone you hadn’t known.

“Jesus!” Miri exclaimed in horror.

“Yeah. They said one minute the dude was standing there waiting for a cab, the next this big guy next to him is grabbing for him, trying to catch him as he fell. That’s got to stick with you for a while, huh?”

Charles said as he filled up on more plates and kept walking toward the kitchen.

“Wow,” Miri murmured, still staring at Charles as he walked away. “Talk about a rough night,” she muttered as she looked back at Cameron. “What was I saying?” Miri asked.

“You were talking about leaving me alone,” Cameron tried.

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“Is Julian dangerous?” she asked him suddenly.

Cameron’s sight blurred as he stared at the tablecloth, trying to keep himself under control. “Why would you think that?” he asked softly.

“It was just a feeling he gave off,” Miri murmured after a moment of thought. “Like he was… capable.”

Cameron glanced over his shoulder at her. “I can’t think of him that way,” he answered.

Miri sighed. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

Tilting his head, he turned and stepped to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I will,” he assured her with a small smile, while inwardly all the lingering worry and sudden upset mixed with the little bit of blossoming anger threatened to make him ill.

It was after two in the morning before Cameron finally left the restaurant, having overseen the entire clean-up and prep for the next day. All who worked the party had Saturday off with pay as a thank-you for a job well done. Cameron had an extra day, just because.

Despite his argument, Blake had insisted.

And for the first time, he found himself relieved that Julian wouldn’t be with him.

It was Saturday morning now, past Julian’s scheduled Friday visit, and Cameron would have the whole day as well as Sunday and Monday to himself to rest and think before going back to work on Tuesday, although he really didn’t want to think at all. He knew he’d been lying to himself all this time, but he’d ignored it, hoping he’d give Julian no reason to change his mind about loving him. He would tell Cameron what he needed to know, wouldn’t he? What bothered Cameron most was that he still knew next to nothing about Julian, even after four months of being lovers.

It all ate at him, making him tired and depressed. And right now, Cameron was forcing himself to ignore the fact that he wanted nothing more than to be in Julian’s arms.

Cameron walked distractedly down the deserted sidewalk. He stopped briefly at the street corner, glancing each way before hurrying Warrior’s Cross 163

across the road and heading down the sidewalk toward his building, still stuck in confused, swirling thoughts, pretty much oblivious to everything around him. A couple blocks later, keycard in hand, Cameron stopped to open the door.

A hulking shadow stepped away from the building on the other side of the street and cleared his throat. Cameron’s chin snapped around to look in the direction of the noise as he jumped in alarm. He didn’t relax when he saw it was Julian.

“Are you okay?” Julian asked him without crossing the street. His voice carried in the cold night.

Cameron nodded slowly as he watched Julian, all of his worries echoing in his head as he found himself unable to relax. In the dark, lit only by a few harsh streetlights, Julian
did
look dangerous. Cameron realized now that he just hadn’t let himself see it. “Tired,” he finally answered hoarsely.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give you warning,” Julian told him as he stepped into the street. “I didn’t know I was needed at the party until tonight.”

Cameron nodded again, at war with himself. He believed in Julian, but his own insecurities ate at him. It made him mad that he wasn’t brave enough to ask the questions he wanted answered so he could feel better about their relationship. And Miri’s questions invested him with enough tension that he hesitated, unable to think of anything to say in response to Julian’s apology.

Julian must have been able to see the tension in him, because he stopped in the middle of the street, looking at Cameron with a blank expression. “May I come by tomorrow?” he asked, oddly polite. The air in front of him frosted over as he spoke.

Unable to read Julian’s face or his tone, Cameron hesitated. He’d hoped to have more time to think things over and come to terms with what bothered him. “Tomorrow meaning later today or actually tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Julian answered as a siren began to blare in the distance.

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The sound startled Cameron, and he glanced toward where it was coming from. Julian didn’t bother to turn his head, now standing in the middle of the street and waiting for his answer.

Cameron looked back at him. “I thought Sundays weren’t available?” he asked uncertainly.

“I’m off this weekend,” Julian told him flatly.

Cameron stared at him and nodded, the yearning to be with him almost outweighing what he hoped was merely irrational fear. “Okay,”

he agreed softly, knowing that if Julian had requested to come upstairs now, he would have agreed.

Julian nodded and smiled slightly. “Sleep well, Cameron,” he said in a louder voice as the siren got closer. The fire truck appeared around the corner several blocks away and blared its horn. Julian glanced at it and began slowly backing out of the road. The fire engine roared down the street and by them, its sirens deafening as the lights spun.

Cameron watched it as it sped past. When it turned the next corner and disappeared from view, the street in front of him was empty.

Left standing alone, Cameron looked up and down the street for Julian, not seeing anything moving or any sign of the man at all. It spooked him, and he turned and quickly entered the building. He didn’t breathe easily again until he was up in his apartment with the door shut and locked behind him.

BLAKE grumbled as he clomped down the stairs from his bedroom in his robe. It was well past midnight, and there was only one person who would be banging on the knocker at this time of night.

“What have you done now? You’re not even working a job tonight!” he asked tiredly as he swung the door open, expecting to see Julian hanging onto Preston as he bled on the doorstep like usual.

But Julian was alone, standing up on his own, dressed casually in a pair of faded jeans and a fleece pullover. He’d shaved off his beard Warrior’s Cross 165

sometime recently, but tonight he was scruffy. Somehow, the bastard still managed to look high-class.

The look in his eyes, however, spoke of utter defeat.

“You look like hell,” Blake blurted without thinking. “What happened?” he demanded.

Julian returned his frank appraisal with a wry nod of his head, and then he lifted a bottle of single malt Irish whiskey and shook it enticingly.

“A Bushmills night,” Blake observed with a slight frown. “Come in, then,” he added with a sigh as he turned slightly and waved Julian into the house. “Let me go put my pants on,” he muttered as Julian stepped past him unsteadily. “How’d you get here?” he asked suspiciously as he realized Julian wasn’t exactly sober.

“Preston dropped me off,” Julian answered as he looked around the large entry foyer. “Said he’d pick me up in the morning.”

Blake barked a laugh and shook his head. “He’s just pawning you off on me,” he said accusingly as he relaxed a little. “What’s the problem then? It’s not tactical or he’d be all over it.”

“I think I’m losing him,” Julian answered softly as he turned and met Blake’s eyes.

“Preston?” Blake asked in shock. Julian and Preston had worked together for longer than Blake had known either of them—and that was no short time itself.

Julian shook his head and looked away. “Cameron,” he answered in a voice that was barely a whisper. “He’s starting to get scared. I can feel it in the way he looks at me.”

Blake stared at Julian, worried and dumbstruck. He licked his lips and moved closer to his friend, taking his elbow gently and guiding him toward the study. “I’ll put pants on later,” he mumbled as they walked through the silent house.

Julian flopped into one of the heavy leather armchairs standing beside the cold fireplace, and Blake knelt to start the gas logs as Julian began struggling to open the bottle of whiskey. Blake sat down 166

Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

opposite him, crossed his legs, and watched him, knowing that when Julian wanted to talk, he would. Especially since he’d already been into the bottle. The problem, in the end, would be shutting him up.

Finally, Julian handed the bottle wordlessly to Blake for him to open it, and he slumped back into his chair and stared up at the dark ceiling. “He’s asking questions I’m afraid to answer,” he started abruptly. “If I lie, I lose him. If I tell him the truth, I lose him
and
risk him being hurt.”

“Jules,” Blake said softly as he carefully set the bottle of whiskey on the floor beside his chair, hoping Julian would forget it. “Can I ask you a question?”

“No,” Julian groaned with a shake of his head.

Blake ignored him. “What do you see in him?” he asked curiously.

Julian stared at Blake with wide eyes. “What the hell kind of a question is that?”

“An honest one,” Blake answered. “Don’t get me wrong. I adore Cameron. He’s a great guy. I’ve known him almost as long as I’ve known you. But he’s not exactly… your type,” he explained carefully.