Warrior’s Cross

Chapter Four

Julian Cross pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the men’s room on the lowest level of the Field Museum of Natural History. He stood motionless, looking around at the seemingly deserted space as the door swung shut behind him with a slight creak and a deep whoosh of air.

Emergency lights that ran at night after the museum closed lit the room. One of them flickered occasionally. A faucet dripped somewhere to his right. A toilet ran on the far left wall. The heating grate in the ceiling rattled as if it had recently been dislodged somehow. And a large metal trashcan lay on its side with trash spilled out across the tile.

That was the sound Julian had heard: the crash of the metal trashcan.

His black eyes lifted upward, narrowing at the grate in the ceiling.

In newer buildings, the heating ducts were only eighteen inches across: much too small for a grown man to squeeze through. But in the basement of the nearly ninety-year-old Field Museum, it was probably possible for his quarry to climb up there and crawl through the ductwork like an idiot, looking for a way out.

He lowered his gaze to look once more at the stalls on the far side of the bathroom. There were really only so many options in a room like this, and he knew the man he was after wasn’t exactly the type who could think on his feet. The mere fact that he’d ducked into the bathroom rather than trying for the emergency stairs or even the bank of glass windows in the McDonald’s on the opposite side of the museum was evidence of that. He’d probably tried to use the trash can to climb into the heating grate, fallen on his ass, and when that had failed...

He’d only had roughly thirty seconds to get away from the bathroom once Julian was alerted to his location. Julian knew he would have seen or at least heard the man if he’d made a run for it as he approached the bathrooms.

Which meant he was still in here. Hiding.

Julian moved slowly, his expensive shoes making a hollow, foreboding sound on the echoing tile as he walked. He pushed his heavy coat aside, pulling his weapon from his holster and slowly screwing a silencer onto the end of it as he moved.

He got to the first stall and pushed it open gently, holding his gun close to his face with one hand as he peered into the stall. The corner of his mouth twitched when he found it empty, and he moved on.

He skipped the second and third stalls, enjoying the knowledge that with every second that passed, his target was suffering from the tension.

It was painfully difficult, knowing you were about to die.

Sometimes the mere stress of waiting made people simply give up when they were finally found. It was always easier that way. The ones who fought back were the ones that left Julian bruised and battered.

He moved slowly, reaching the fifth stall with a heavy step. He cocked his head, listening, and then he smiled slowly. He turned, shoved at the stall door just hard enough to break the flimsy lock and pointed his silenced gun at the man cowering on the toilet within.

“Hello, Ted,” he murmured casually.

“Please, don’t kill me!” the man blurted as he held his hands in front of his face and turned away as if Julian were a light too bright for his eyes. “I have copies of the research! I’ll give it all to you, I swear! You can’t do this!”

“You had your chance,” Julian told him calmly. He pulled the trigger three times, barely blinking as the gun popped in his hand.

Then he turned and walked away, leaving the restroom and heading out into the empty hallway. Across from him was a large, enclosed cafeteria area for school trips, and Julian knew on either side of him there were stairs leading up to the main floor. Why the man hadn’t tried for them, Julian couldn’t guess. People did odd things when they ran for their lives. They also did stupid things when they were stupid people, but that was just Julian’s personal opinion.

He also knew that on the other side of that bank of windows in the McDonald’s on the far end of the museum was an outdoor courtyard surrounded by a brick wall that would be easy to scale. He headed there, not yet hurrying. He hopped over the barriers, grabbed a heavy metal trashcan, and broke the lock of the gate that was supposed to keep people out of the fast food restaurant when it was closed. He wasn’t worried about cameras; he’d already taken care of those.

He kicked the gates open and headed for the wall of windows, dragging the can behind him. The snow fell in the darkness outside, melting as soon as it hit the ground, creating a peaceful scene in the brick courtyard on the other side of the tinted windows, but not one that would hinder his plans. He couldn’t have investigators finding any tracks in the snow. Or lack thereof. Julian cocked his head, reared back, and chucked the trashcan through the nearest window.

Alarms began to blare as the glass shattered, and Julian turned on his heel and ran back into the belly of the museum, heading for the nearest stairwell and losing himself in the maze on the floor above that made up the Africa and animal exhibits.

He turned one corner, then another, and yet another as he heard the commotion behind him. The noise emanated from the lower floor, where he had just been, and Julian slowed as he walked around glass cases of preserved animals. He had all the time in the world since he’d mangled the museum’s security system to the point that it wouldn’t be up and running for quite a while.

They would find the body soon enough and call the police, and the museum would be almost as crowded with investigators and forensics people as it was during the day with tourists. It would be simple for him to use one of his fake “official” identifications to slip out through the chaos. Hanging around and waiting was so much easier than running like a criminal through the darkened alleyways of the city.

He stopped at a case near the far wall of the exhibit, his breathing and pulse slow and even as he unscrewed the silencer from his gun and replaced both pieces under the folds of his heavy coat. He pulled off the black gloves he wore and stepped closer to the glass case to study the lions inside.

He’d seen the Lions of Tsavo many times during his years in Chicago, but he was always compelled to come back. They were much smaller now than they’d been when they lived, their hides having suffered maltreatment over the years before they found their home at the Field Museum. The lions weren’t really all that impressive if you knew nothing about them. They were positioned like tame housecats, looking out at passersby with mere curiosity. The Maneater of Mfuwe on the floor below was much more physically striking.

But some people claimed the eyes of the Tsavo lions followed them when they walked by. Julian had never seen that. To him they seemed timid and conquered, held in this glass case for eternity as punishment for their sins. But underneath that, the Tsavo lions had a feel to them, one Julian knew all too well.

They were simply evil.

They had killed more than one hundred and forty men during the latter part of the nineteenth century in Africa, and that was just the men the British railway had counted. No one knew how many undocumented African and Indian workers had lost their lives to these two animals. It was far too great a number in far too short a time to have been from hunger or even territorial protection. Julian tended not to listen to the various and sundry scientific theories of why these two male lions had gone rogue and killed men together. He had his own theory.

They simply enjoyed what they did.

Julian sighed softly, cocking his head as the commotion in the far reaches of the museum died down. By his count, his tally was almost even with the lions now.

Cameron bent over, laughing so hard that he could barely stand up.

Every time he tried to stop, he’d snort and start laughing again. “God. I wish I had a camera!”

“Shut up,” Julian mumbled at him as he struggled with the four tumbling puppies. Every time he extracted one from his long, flowing scarf, another would take her place and begin tugging again. The scarf was hopelessly wrapped around the legs of one of the puppies, who was upside down and struggling to turn over, and Julian was so obviously uncomfortable with the tiny animals anyway that he could barely touch them to untangle them as his scarf choked him.

Snickering, Cameron finally dragged himself away from the door to help. “You have no idea how adorable you are right now with that look on your face.”

“They’re so little!” Julian insisted in frustration. He picked one up to demonstrate, holding it in the palm of one large hand as the puppy’s tiny tail wagged between his fingers. “How can they be so little and so mean at the same time?”

The earnest question set Cameron off into peals of laughter again.

“They’re little, yes, but they make up for their size with their attitude,” he managed to respond. “And Westies aren’t mean. They’re tenacious.”

He stooped over to unwrap Scarlet from Julian’s scarf.

“Why do you have four of them, anyway?” Julian asked grumpily as he bent to carefully set the puppy down again. “And why the hell do they like me so much?”

Cameron swiped at Julian’s scarf and wound it around his hand, pulling it over the other man’s head before yet another puppy could latch onto it. “Well, originally I was going to get two so they’d be company for each other,” he said. “When I contacted the owner, she had a litter of three. I didn’t want to leave one alone. So I got Cobalt, Scarlet, and Saffron. A few weeks later a friend of mine saw Snowflake at the Humane Society shelter. I figured one more wouldn’t make much difference.” He chuckled and picked up Saffron and Snowflake. “And they like you because you’re so very likable,” he said with a grin, leaning to steal a kiss.

“Fascinating,” Julian grumbled as he looked down at the pandering puppies in distaste and then reached to pet each of them on the head daintily.

Cameron smiled warmly. “Thank you,” he said. “Now get Cobalt and Scarlet, and we’ll put them in the playpen with some snacks so you can have some peace,” he teased.

Julian looked down at the other two puppies. He frowned, bent over, and picked them up carefully. He carried them over to the playpen and knelt to place them inside. Cameron knew he was afraid he would drop them if he tried it any other way.

Biting his lip, Cameron watched Julian being so careful, finding it endearing and hilarious at the same time. “They will get bigger. They’re just babies right now.”

“They’re evil ,” Julian announced with certainty as he looked down at them.

Cameron snickered again and set the other two in the playpen.

“Yes, we’re planning to take over the world.”

Julian muttered under his breath and shrugged out of his coat.

Cameron raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Julian answered as he tossed his coat on the back of the couch and turned to face Cameron with a small frown.

“Right. Sure you don’t want to share? I can always let them out again,” Cameron mentioned.

“No, that’s okay,” Julian said quickly.

Cameron laughed and walked over to stand a foot away, hands on his hips. “You know, if you’re so uncomfortable around the dogs, we could go somewhere else.”

Julian inclined his head slightly, a hint of discomfort showing in his eyes. “I don’t mind the dogs,” he finally responded.

“If you change your mind, we can always go out,” Cameron said, shrugging. “I don’t mean to trap you here,” he said, his voice and manner obviously reluctant.

“Do you want to go out?” Julian asked uncertainly.

Cameron met Julian’s eyes and shook his head. “I want you to myself,” he admitted.

Julian smiled widely and nodded. “Good,” he responded softly.

Cameron took that last half-step and slid his arms around Julian’s neck. “Good,” he whispered just before pulling Julian down for a kiss.

Julian hummed happily and wound his arms around Cameron’s waist. “I love Tuesdays,” he murmured against Cameron’s lips.

Cameron smiled. “Me too.”

Julian grinned and gave Cameron’s ass a pinch.

“Ow!” Cameron yelped. “What’d you do that for?”

“Because it’s fun,” Julian answered enthusiastically.

“For you, maybe!” Cameron objected. “Ow!”

Julian snorted and easily picked Cameron up so his toes dangled above the ground and gave him a little kiss. Cameron laughed and set his hands on Julian’s shoulders. “Okay, I cannot tell you how much I like it when you do this.”

“Oh, really?” Julian asked with a smirk.

Cameron grinned and kicked his feet gently, but couldn’t get any footing on the hardwood floor. Julian tightened his grip and kissed him slowly. Cameron sighed against his lips and opened his mouth to invite a deeper kiss.

“Would you care to do anything before I take you to bed?” Julian asked in a low voice.

“Um. Not that I’m not really interested, but I have something for you first,” Cameron answered as he was held suspended.

Julian blinked in surprise, but then he smiled slightly. “It better be damn good,” he whispered teasingly.

Cameron didn’t smile; he was suddenly nervous. “You’ll have to tell me, I guess,” he said.

Julian’s smile fell as he saw that his teasing had fallen flat, and he slowly released Cameron and nodded obediently.

Biting his lip slightly, Cameron backed away once he was solidly on his feet. “Why don’t you go ahead to the bedroom, and I’ll bring it in there?”

Julian looked at him curiously and nodded again, moving slowly.

Cameron watched him until he disappeared into the darkness behind the screens. He walked over to the desk and slid open a drawer so he could pull out an envelope. He’d prepared it over the weekend, and he’d wondered ever since if it was the right thing to do. He held the envelope in his hand for a moment as he doubted himself. What if it was too fast, too much, too soon? What if he scared Julian off? It had only been a month or so...

But he’d already told Julian he had something to give him. He couldn’t back out now.

After another few moments’ waffling, Cameron grew annoyed by his indecision. He turned on his heel and walked between the screens to join Julian. He approached the bed where Julian sat and held out the envelope. Although he wasn’t shaking, he was afraid his voice would crack if he tried to speak.

Julian looked down at the envelope and then up to meet Cameron’s eyes questioningly.

Cameron’s lips pressed together for a moment. “It’s for you,” he said shakily. “Don’t... ” He gave a short, nervous laugh. “Don’t feel obligated to accept.”

Julian took the envelope without looking away from Cameron. He smiled at him affectionately and carefully slid his finger under the flap of the envelope as he looked down at it. He glanced up at Cameron one more time and then peered into the envelope. It held a keycard and a key, both strung on a simple black woven key chain. Julian blinked down at it before looking up at Cameron in surprise.

“I said any time,” Cameron said, not mentioning the fact that Julian already seemed to be able to get into the building without the card. “I meant it. I want you to know you’re welcome here.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Julian said candidly. “Thank you, Cameron.”

“You’re welcome,” Cameron answered as he watched Julian carefully.

Julian stood and picked Cameron up again with a smile. “I’m thrilled,” he whispered.

Cameron gasped softly in relief as he braced one hand on Julian’s shoulder. “I’m glad I made you happy.”

“Well, it’s Tuesday,” Julian murmured with a smile as he slowly turned them in a circle. “You always make me happy on Tuesdays.”

“Technically, it’s Wednesday,” Cameron corrected.

Julian hummed in acknowledgment. “Spoilsport,” he accused softly.

Cameron’s smile was unrivaled. “But you’ve been with me all the Tuesday nights and Wednesday mornings lately,” he pointed out.

“That’s true,” Julian acknowledged with a grin as he set Cameron on his feet again. “Perhaps we’ve earned ourselves another day.”

“Yeah?” Cameron asked hopefully. He’d love to see Julian more than one night a week. He’d wondered sometimes why Julian couldn’t be here more often, besides the obvious explanation of work. Julian had to sleep at some point, didn’t he? Why couldn’t he do it here? But Cameron kept those questions to himself. They’d almost argued once over Cameron pushing for information, for explanations. He didn’t want to risk it happening again.

“I’ve seen you at the restaurant every Tuesday for months,” Julian was saying as Cameron thought about the situation. He looked down at Cameron curiously. “Christmas Eve, New Year’s Eve... Do you ever not work?”

Cameron gave him an amused smile. “I guess we have that in common, don’t we?”

Julian shrugged. “Do you work so much because you like it or because of the money?”

“I do like it a lot,” Cameron admitted as he slid his hands into his pockets. “And the money’s nice, but I inherited the condo, and I’ve got more than enough money saved up for just me and the dogs that I wouldn’t have to work for awhile if I didn’t want to. Mostly it’s because I don’t have anything else to do.”

“I’d like to see you more,” Julian told him bluntly. “Perhaps we could both pick a day to be free?” he asked. “Then you could have something else to do.”

Happiness clutched at Cameron’s chest. His joy at that idea was clear on his face. “I’d really like that.”

Julian grinned widely and nodded. “Good. Is it easy for you to get nights off?”

“It’s my job to make the schedule,” Cameron answered with a small smile.

“Any night but Sunday and Monday,” Julian told him with a smirk.

“Damn.” Cameron huffed. “The restaurant’s closed on Mondays; that would have worked well,” he told Julian with a frown.

“The restaurant’s closed on Mondays because Blake is busy with his other business responsibilities,” Julian answered vaguely, smiling slightly.

“Oh. Well, will we still have Tuesday nights?” Cameron chanced, knowing better than to delve further into that little tidbit of information.

“I wouldn’t miss them,” Julian answered.

“How about Fridays for a regular day off? For all I know, you look different by sunlight,” Cameron prodded.

“I’m actually a blond,” Julian deadpanned. Then he smiled crookedly. “I like it.”

Cameron chuckled over the joke and then hummed agreeably, closing his arms around Julian’s middle and hugging him close. “You mentioned taking me to bed?”

“Yes, I did.” Julian picked Cameron up completely and turned fluidly, tossing him onto the bed without the slightest effort.

Cameron yelped in surprise and laughed as he bounced on the mattress and looked up at Julian. “You enjoy that, don’t you?”

“Immensely,” Julian growled with an evil smirk as he crawled onto the bed.

Blake Nichols sat in his office, tapping his pen against the desk as he watched the little television in the corner. Cameron sat across from him, patiently waiting until the news story ended before he spoke.

“Authorities are still baffled by the murder of Theodore Young,” the news anchor said. “Young, a research assistant at Chicago’s Field Museum, was found Thursday night in the men’s room in the Museum’s basement after an alarm alerted museum security to a breakin. He was shot three times in the chest. While the Chicago PD is remaining silent in regards to the circumstances of the murder, an insider claims the killing looks to be a, professional hit. The thirty-eight-year-old Young was said to be assisting on—”

Blake reached over and turned off the television before the anchor could drone on. “Some people just have no luck, hmm?” he said to Cameron with a wry smile. “Can’t even take a piss without getting it,” he mumbled as he fiddled with some papers on his desk and then looked up at Cameron again. “Now, what was it you needed?”

Cameron shifted forward now that he had Blake’s attention. “You wanted the comparisons on the wine vendors? The house wine supplier jumped the price per bottle by twenty dollars?”

“Right, right,” Blake responded with a nod. He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Switch to someone cheaper; call their bluff.”

Cameron winced. “We don’t want to piss the supplier off. We have a lot of regulars who drink the house wine every time they come in.”

Blake smiled slowly. “Anyone in particular you’re thinking of?” he asked.

Cameron blinked several times. “Particular?” he echoed. “Uh. Well... I guess so,” he admitted as his cheeks colored. “But a lot of other customers really do drink it too.”

Blake continued to smile, watching Cameron and waiting for him to say what he really wanted to say.

“Blake, I... I have a question, but I don’t... I don’t want to pry, you know, too much,” Cameron waffled.

“So I’ll tell you when you cross a line,” Blake invited with a wave of his hand.

Cameron screwed up his courage. He’d come this far; he might as well ask. “Julian said that he’d do something here in the restaurant—about me—but that you told him he couldn’t,” he said in a rush.

Blake stared at him blankly for a moment before frowning slightly. “Remind me,” he requested finally.

“He said... he said he’d wanted to get down on his knees and beg me to go home with him.” Cameron winced once the words were out. It sounded silly now, but he was having a really difficult time absorbing it. He hoped Blake would be able to confirm Julian’s sincerity.

Blake laughed, quickly covering his smile with his hand as he turned in his chair. “Did you want me to let him?” he asked in amusement.

Cameron’s eyes widened. “It’s true? Really?”

“Well, he did say it,” Blake affirmed with a nod, still smirking. “Whether he’d really do it, I don’t know,” he added. “But I’ve learned to anticipate him.”

“Anticipation denotes expectation based on previous performance,” Cameron said weakly, leaning back in his chair, flustered.

Blake continued to smile as he looked Cameron over. “What’s brought this on, Cam?” he asked with a hint of concern.

“It just surprised me,” Cameron admitted. “I mean, really surprised me. No one’s ever—”

“Cameron, back up,” Blake said softly. “Pretend that I have no idea what you’re talking about, okay? When did Julian tell you this? Have you become seriously involved with him?” he asked in surprise.

“He told me a few weeks, ah, well, a month ago or so. And as to serious? I’m not quite sure,” Cameron said as his brow furrowed.

Blake cocked his head and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You’ve been seeing him for over a month?” he asked finally.

Cameron nodded slowly. “Sort of,” he murmured.

“He must be pretty serious about you,” Blake murmured as he continued to look at Cameron thoughtfully.

“What?” Cameron asked. “Is that a surprise?” Now he wondered just how good of friends Blake and Julian really were.

“Honestly?” Blake said as he leaned forward and frowned. “Yeah, it is.” He looked at Cameron as if just realizing what he’d said, and he held out a hand. “I mean, not because it’s you,” he said quickly. “Jules just isn’t the long-term type, usually.”

Cameron managed a half-hearted smile, though Blake’s words echoed in his ears. Jules? He couldn’t imagine anyone calling Julian that. “A month is hardly long term,” he argued weakly.

“Then you still have a lot to learn about Julian Cross,” Blake advised with a kind smile.

“Believe me, I know that,” Cameron murmured.

“You want to talk about it?” Blake asked carefully.

“Yes, but I’m not going to,” Cameron answered, shifting his weight to stand. “If he wants me to know something, he’ll tell me.” He hoped.

Blake rested his chin in his hand and raised an eyebrow at him.

Cameron crossed his arms and tried not to shuffle, but it didn’t take long for him to relent. “Okay, so he won’t. But he won’t appreciate me asking you instead of him.”

“Asking me what?” Blake asked nonchalantly.

“Anything remotely personal,” Cameron replied.

“I wouldn’t answer anything he wouldn’t want me telling,” Blake offered, his brow furrowing worriedly. “Are you afraid of him?” he asked.

Cameron’s shoulders immediately straightened. “No, I’m not. He asked me that too,” he said. “Why do you ask that?”

“A lot of people are,” Blake answered carelessly.

Cameron gave Blake an obstinate glare. Blake looked back at him in surprise, and Cameron’s eyebrow jutted up in response. “And?”

Cameron asked.

Blake shrugged, his eyes straying to the silent television briefly. “ Most people are,” he corrected, watching Cameron carefully.

Cameron’s shoulder edged up. “Well, I’m not,” he stated.

Blake nodded and then smiled widely. “Good. So why does it bother you that he wanted to make a fool of himself in public for you?” he asked in an entirely different tone. An amused tone.

“But that’s—that’s crazy!” Cameron exclaimed. “Not only crazy, but it would get him, and me, all sorts of attention. I don’t want to sha—” He cut himself off with a surprised blink. Where did that come from?

“I’m sorry. Don’t want to what?” Blake asked.

Cameron flushed and sank back into the chair. “Shit, I’ve got it bad,” he murmured.

“I can see that,” Blake agreed with a laugh. His smile faded, and he leaned back in his chair again, bringing his hands together against his stomach as he looked at Cameron thoughtfully. “Try to fall slower,” he advised, that tone now serious.

Cameron went still. “Are you going to tell me why you say that?” he asked, meeting Blake’s eyes.

Blake tapped his finger against the back of his hand. “You told me you didn’t want to know,” he pointed out.

After a long moment of quiet, Cameron nodded and stood. “Yeah. I did.” He moved to the door.

“Cameron?” Blake said softly.

Cameron turned his chin to look over his shoulder as he paused with his hand on the doorknob.

“I hear there’s been trouble with the vineyards this year,” Blake said to him. “Keep the house wine. We’ll stick with them for a bit longer.”

The corner of Cameron’s mouth turned up. “Good night, Blake.”

“Sleep well, Cam,” Blake responded with a sigh.

Cameron nodded and stepped out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him. He stood there a moment, then opened the door again and stuck his head back in. Blake hadn’t moved. He still sat there looking at Cameron expectantly.

“What does the name of the restaurant have to do with the god of war?” Cameron asked him curiously.

Blake snorted. “Google it, Cam,” he advised with a smirk. “Good night.”

Cameron grunted in annoyance and closed the door again. He dropped his head back against the door and decided it was time to go home.

As the weeks passed, Julian spent Tuesday nights after the restaurant closed at Cameron’s, and he showed up every Friday morning like clockwork, staying as long as he was able. Sometimes it was early Saturday morning before he left.

Now, another Tuesday had come around, and it was two nights before Valentine’s Day.

The restaurant’s décor was classy, as always, but now fresh roses in a myriad of reds, pinks and whites filled vases around the floor, and all the ladies took a few home with them. The dessert menu featured triple the number of items, strolling violinists promoted the romantic atmosphere, and the staff had a hard time keeping champagne cold because the bottles were going out so fast. Tuesdays was booked to capacity with a waiting list every day of the week.

When Julian stepped into the restaurant, he lost his usual air of mystery for a brief moment as he looked around at his surroundings with wide eyes. He hadn’t expected the restaurant to be decked out like it was. He recovered quickly, though, and schooled his face back to its polite mask.

Keri, well used to seeing him, greeted him with a smile and invited him in, leading him to one of the quieter alcoves. Julian was silent as he followed, and he reached out discreetly to snag one of the roses from a vase as he passed. As Keri showed him his table, he produced it out of the folds of his coat as if by magic and handed it to her with a small smile.

She smiled widely and thanked him before telling him Miri would be right with him, and then she took up the extra place setting and was on her way. Julian watched her go before he shifted to steal another rose and seated himself. He couldn’t help but be disappointed that he wasn’t in Cameron’s section, but sometimes it was fun to watch him from afar. He supposed he could live with the nosy waitress for tonight.

Perhaps she’d be too busy to pry. Julian was feeling very amenable tonight.

It wasn’t long before Miri appeared. “Good evening, sir. Your regular?” she asked.

“If you please,” Julian answered with a nod. He produced the rose he’d hidden with a flourish and handed it to her with a tiny smile.

“Thank you.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, smiling a little more than usual. “I’ll be back with your wine in a bit.” As she walked toward the service area, she passed Blake, who said a few words to her. She nodded in response and went on her way, and Blake made his way to Julian’s table, pulled out the opposite chair, and sat down heavily.

“Damn Valentine’s crap,” Blake muttered to Julian as soon as he was seated.

Julian raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “Scrooge,” he accused softly.

Blake turned up his nose. “Christmas is my kind of holiday. Valentine’s? I’m running out of creative jewelry to buy, you know?” he said defensively. “And the goddamned violinists are giving me a migraine,” he went on grumpily. “Unfortunately, I make enough money on a single holiday to carry me through at least a month, if not more.”

“Yeah,” Julian murmured. “Me too.” He sighed as he looked away. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t worked on a holiday. Holidays made people careless; they thought everyone took a break. Julian found a tiny, perverse bit of pleasure in proving them wrong.

Blake sniffed and sprawled back in his chair. “However, you have a reason to like holidays now, don’t you?” he murmured, his twinkling eyes belying the disgruntled face. “Someone to spend them with?”

Julian looked back at Blake carefully and grunted at him. “I’m going to steal him away from you,” he threatened under his breath, an impossible promise, he knew, even as he joked about it.

Blake actually chuckled. “He’d probably go too,” he allowed.

A smile flickered across Julian’s lips, but he didn’t say anything in response. “Do I need to give you a rose, as well?” he finally teased.

“That would go over well,” Blake said, leaning forward. “About as well as you getting down on your knees here in the restaurant to declare your undying devotion to my best waiter.”

Julian glared at his friend in warning. “He’s been talking, has he?” he asked softly.

“Just to me,” Blake admitted. “You really shook him up with that, you know? I wasn’t sure he was taking it that well.”

Julian narrowed his eyes and then looked away. He’d wondered that himself at the time. Cameron had been really surprised. He hadn’t taken it as the lighthearted joke it was meant to be.

Blake tipped his head to one side, the teasing light fading from his eyes and his tone. When he spoke, his voice was low and serious.

“Why did you tell him that, Julian? Trying to get him into bed?”

“You know me better than that,” Julian chastised sharply, his focus snapping back to Blake.

Blake raised an eyebrow in question. “Don’t fuck around with him if you’re not serious, Julian. He’s too good a man to deserve what’ll happen if you have to dump him and take off. You know how realistic that scenario is.”

Julian looked back at him with a momentary surge of anger, an emotion that seeped out of his black eyes almost immediately. He looked down at the table sadly. He couldn’t be mad at Blake for pointing out what was simple reality. He knew better than to think he could have Cameron in his life without it causing problems, but...

Julian frowned. He’d lost his appetite along with his good mood.

“Julian, come on. Don’t give me that kicked puppy look. I’m just looking out for both of you. You can make it work. Lord knows, if anybody deserves some happiness, it’s you. Just... be careful. Please,” Blake implored quietly.

Julian pressed his lips together tightly and looked back up at Blake. “I don’t think I’ll be eating tonight,” he murmured. “Can you get Cameron for me? I’d like to say hello before I go.”

Blake frowned. “Cameron’s not here.”

Julian didn’t even twitch in response. He merely looked at Blake without blinking for a moment. “Where is he?” he asked softly, searching his memory to find if Cameron had mentioned anything unusual the last time they were together.

“He’s at home, I assume. He called in sick all weekend and today,” Blake said. “When was the last time you saw him? Didn’t you know he was sick?”

“Friday afternoon,” Julian answered hoarsely. “He was fine.” He stared at Blake intently and asked, “Are you sure he’s sick?” His pulse began to pick up as a nameless dread stirred in his gut.

“I sort of thought maybe he was shacked up with you somewhere and just didn’t want to tell me,” Blake admitted. He looked up to see Miri approaching with a bottle of wine. “Miri, have you heard from Cameron?”

“Not since Sunday morning,” she answered as she pulled out a corkscrew. “He called and left me a message, asked me to pick up his dogs.” She glanced up at Blake and then over to Julian. “Why?”

“Did you see him?” Julian demanded of her. Now his mind was starting to conjure scenarios he really, truly didn’t want to imagine Cameron being involved in.

Miri looked to Blake in concern, but answered Julian. “No, he wasn’t there when I stopped by. I just took the dogs and left.”

“He was too sick to care for his dogs, but he went out?” Julian asked in a low voice.

“He didn’t sound well on the phone,” Miri said with a shrug. “He sounded exhausted, and his voice was hoarse. I figured he went to the doctor or the drugstore or something. He left the door unlocked for me.”

Julian looked away from her to stare at the linen tablecloth. His mind raced, trying to remember how Cameron had been the previous Friday and fighting down the panic that leading his life could create.

Had someone found out about Cameron? Was he hurt?

Blake looked at Julian hard for a moment. “Thank you, Miri. I’ll pour the wine,” he said pleasantly.

She left the bottle and went off to another table after casting another curious glance Julian’s way.

“You think he’s not sick?” Blake asked.

“I think I need to go,” Julian answered as he stood abruptly, unable to sit still any longer.

Blake stayed seated casually, but he watched Julian with a sincere worry in his eyes. “Call me,” he requested simply.

But Julian was already moving calmly toward the door. He kept his head down, but stayed alert to his surroundings as he went. If anyone followed him, he would know it. He waited until he was outside the building before he broke into a run.

Even as fit as he was, he found himself out of breath when he reached Cameron’s building, darting in through the entryway as a woman exited. Sprinting up the stairs didn’t help, and by the time he found himself at Cameron’s door he was fighting back the very real urge to panic. He banged on the door as calmly as he was able.

There was no answer.

Julian waited three breaths and then banged again, looking up and down the hallway carefully.

Still no answer.

He dug in his pocket for the small leather case he always kept with him. He opened it hastily and extracted two small utensils from the lock-pick set before remembering he actually had a key. He shoved the set back in his pocket and searched for the key with a quiet curse. After a brief moment of fumbling, he had the door unlocked, and he pushed it open carefully, practically vibrating with the urge to throw caution out the window and storm into the apartment.

But Julian was nothing if not cautious. He drew his gun.

He carefully surveyed the interior before entering. The main room was lit with only one lamp, and the kitchen was dark. The large space was very obviously empty. It was odd walking into Cameron’s apartment without being barraged by little white fluffy things. And it was cold. Very cold.

A survey of the room showed that all the windows were shut. But the window near the fire escape in the bedroom wasn’t. It was open a few inches, letting in the frigid winter air. Julian’s blood ran just as cold, and he moved through the apartment with even more care, searching the shadows for anything untoward before he closed and locked the window.

The bedroom was dark and empty except for a little spill of light coming from the bathroom door in the corner. The room behind the screens was heavily shadowed, what with the blinds drawn and the fireplace cold. Clothes lay scattered messily across the floor rather than neatly tucked away as usual, and pillows and quilts sagged off the end and sides of the mussed, empty bed. All that was very unlike the normally tidy Cameron. Julian headed for the light, investigating quickly as he moved toward the bathroom.

“Cameron!” Julian finally called out as he pushed open the bathroom door.

His lover sat on the floor, crumpled against the wall, a fever-flushed cheek pressed against the decorative tile. Each breath rattled as he pulled in air and caught on a thick rasp as he exhaled. There were several prescription bottles on the counter, a couple knocked over into the sink, along with an open bottle of codeine cough syrup and a sticky spoon.

“Jesus,” Julian breathed as he lunged toward the man and took his face in his hands. An odd mixture of intense relief and increased worry struck Julian hard. “Cameron?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?” he asked as his cold hands burned where they met Cameron’s skin.

Cameron gave a weak whimper and blindly leaned against the cool skin that touched his cheeks.

“Did you take all this medicine?” Julian asked as he set his gun on the tile floor and reached into his jacket to grab his phone.

Dragging his bloodshot eyes open, Cameron looked around dazedly, drawn from his fevered sleep by the voice. “Julian?” His voice was mangled and hoarse, and the words came out broken. “You’re here?”

“I was worried,” Julian answered as he dialed the phone. “I’m taking you to the hospital,” he told Cameron firmly.

“Doctor said I’m sick,” Cameron rasped weakly, slumping against the wall. “Gave me medicine.”

“Your doctor should be shot,” Julian spat angrily. He held the phone to his ear and spoke Cameron’s address curtly before hanging up. “Come on,” he urged as he tried to help Cameron to his feet.

“Where’re we going? I’m too tired,” Cameron protested helplessly. “Can’t breathe.”

“Hospital,” Julian murmured.

Cameron wavered for a moment before he moved. He was part-way up when his breath caught, starting a terrible coughing fit, and his legs gave out under him as he tried to clear his lungs and throat. Julian caught him and held him as the coughs wracked his body. Once the fit ebbed, Julian hefted him up into his arms, carrying him out of the bathroom.

Although Cameron was smaller, it still wasn’t easy for Julian to carry him out of the apartment and down the stairs. Julian was certain it was adrenaline that made it possible; he could feel it coursing through him as he moved. While it would have been easier, a fireman’s carry would surely have made Cameron’s condition worse, and Julian couldn’t bear the thought of tossing Cameron over his shoulder like that.

When the sharp cold outside struck them, Cameron flinched in his arms and tried to suck in a breath, moaning aloud. The chill against his hot skin must have been painful, because he started shivering violently, and Julian wanted nothing more than to hold him close and keep him warm.

A sleek black Lexus pulled up in front of the building just as they exited, and Julian carried Cameron to it. A thin, light-haired man jumped out of the driver’s door and hurried to help him.

“Closest hospital, Preston,” Julian ordered quietly as they struggled to get Cameron into the back-seat quickly. The driver nodded and hurried back to slip behind the steering wheel. Julian shut the back door and pulled Cameron to him, cradling his head in his lap and struggling to get out of his heavy coat so he could cover Cameron with it.

Cameron opened his glazed eyes again. “Julian?” he asked, like he didn’t remember that they’d just spoken a few minutes ago. He stopped to fight his way through a couple breaths. “Is it Tuesday?”

“It is,” Julian answered gently.

“Couldn’t call,” Cameron rasped as his head lolled in Julian’s lap. “No number.”

Julian’s apology was an agonized whisper.

One of Cameron’s hands crept up to press lightly against Julian’s chest, and he lapsed back into a fitful doze.

Julian covered him with his coat and rubbed at his shoulders as the car whipped through the city at worrying speeds. He paid it no mind.

Preston was a professional. The only thing Julian worried about was Cameron.