Warrior’s Cross

Chapter Ten #2

Cameron stared at Julian in utter shock. It didn’t feel real, hearing him. Much less hearing him speak in that beautiful, accented voice.

Lancaster raised the gun again, but Julian lunged at him in a movement that was so sudden and fierce that Cameron flinched away from it as well. He had never seen anyone move like that. It was like a lion attacking.

Julian shoved Lancaster into the back wall of the little office, cracking the cheap drywall and sending dust and plaster flying into the air. Cameron tried desperately to tip his own chair over like Blake had told him, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away. The battle between the two men wasn’t graceful like fights he’d seen in movies. It wasn’t precise and silent. It was fast and ugly and chaotic and loud.

Every time a man landed a blow there was a sickening thud of flesh on flesh. It was brutal, making it difficult for Cameron even to listen to, much less watch. He couldn’t believe that the man who’d been so gentle with him was capable of such frightening strength and violence.

Cameron closed his eyes when he felt his chair tipping, and he crashed to the ground with a grunt as pain lanced through his shoulder and arm. He had no sooner hit the ground than he saw Lancaster catch Julian’s arm in mid-swing. He heard the snap of bone breaking as Lancaster put pressure on both sides of Julian’s arm.

Julian didn’t shout in pain; he wrapped his other arm around his opponent and turned them both bodily, picking Lancaster up and swinging him, tossing him through the glass window of the office. The action didn’t even look to have caused him much effort.

There was a crash from the darkness outside, followed by a wordless shout of pain and anger. Julian pulled his own gun and fired repeatedly into the darkness until the chamber clicked empty. He dropped the gun and extracted a long black dagger as he turned on Cameron.

Julian bent over him, grabbing for the arm of the chair and slicing at Cameron’s wrist hastily. He ripped the zip tie away and leaned over Cameron to cut the other one. A shot rang out, and Julian gave a low oomph as he fell into Cameron and rolled slightly.

“How’s that one?” Lancaster called from somewhere in the darkness. “That one work better with that vest?” he spat sarcastically.

Cameron grasped at Julian as the other man lurched against him and the knife went skittering across the floor. He could see the outline of Lancaster’s body moving toward them.

“Julian,” he breathed in warning. “Julian, he’s coming.” He pushed at Julian with his free hand, which came away wet with a stream of blood.

Julian slid to the floor, his arm bleeding freely and leaving smudges of blood on the concrete as he scrambled for his backup gun.

Lancaster broke into a run, bursting through the office door to knock the weapon out of Julian’s hand. Julian rolled and kicked at his leg, sending Lancaster crashing into the old desk against the wall. He slid to the floor as the desk splintered beneath him.

Julian was on his feet even as Lancaster fell and tried to get back up, and he tackled him as soon as he got to his knees, grappling for the weapon.

As the two men rolled around, Blake writhed in his chair, trying in vain to get loose. His wrists were bleeding from the effort, but he didn’t stop. Cameron turned his chin to try to find the knife in the dim light.

He caught sight of it about five feet away, near the back wall of the office, half-hidden under an old filing cabinet.

He started scooting toward the knife, using his free arm to drag himself and the chair forward, glancing back at the two killers as they fought.

Julian was bigger and stronger than Lancaster, but Julian was wounded and bleeding freely and Lancaster was all wiry muscle and grit. And he played dirty. As Cameron watched, he pulled a knife from a sheath at his ankle and sank it into Julian’s side, sliding the blade under his arm, above the vest he wore. Julian howled in pain, his back arching as he fell to the side. Lancaster pounced him, pinning him to the ground with one hand as he used the other to push the gun they grappled over toward his face. Julian grunted in pain and tried to guide it away with the hand of his broken arm.

“Hit me with a goddamned piece of wood,” Lancaster said through gritted teeth as they struggled.

The gun went off again, causing both men to jerk and roll away from each other in a momentary truce as their ears rang. Cameron pushed himself closer to the knife, reaching for it desperately even as he tried to watch the two men. Lancaster jumped Julian again as Julian contorted, trying to yank the knife out of his side, and he hit him hard across the face with the butt of the gun. Cameron winced and looked away. His fingers just barely slid over the blade of the knife as he heard the solid thump of Lancaster hitting Julian again.

Cameron cursed and stretched until his entire body screamed with the effort, and he managed to knock the blade sideways, spinning the knife until he could grasp the handle without risking it sliding under the cabinet. He finally got it in hand and quickly used it to cut the zip tie restraining his other hand and his ankles.

When he was free of the chair, Cameron scuttled across the dusty floor toward Blake, the knife still in his right hand. But his eyes were fastened on the two men fighting just feet away. Lancaster straddled Julian as the bigger man held the gun in both hands, pushing it away from his head as Lancaster tried with all his strength to aim it. He had Julian pinned beneath him. If Julian used any energy to dislodge him, Lancaster would be able to fire the gun and finish him.

The gun fired again, hitting the concrete beside Julian’s head and sending shards of concrete everywhere. Cameron covered his head, and Blake flinched away. Julian shouted in rage and pain and tried again to swing at Lancaster, only to catch his hands just in time to prevent the gun being aimed at his head once more. Cameron swiftly cut through the ties that bound Blake’s hands, and Blake took the knife from his shaking fingers and went to work on his own ankles.

The strength of Julian’s injured arms began to give out, and Lancaster pressed down on him, turning the gun slowly toward his forehead. Julian gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to find the strength to fight back.

“Help him!” Blake shouted as he struggled to cut through the last zip tie.

Cameron looked desperately around the office for something, anything, to use as a weapon. Before he could move, though, Lancaster grunted in pain and went rolling off Julian’s body, landing spread-eagled on his back beside Julian on the cold concrete. Cameron had no idea what had happened, and from the stunned look on Julian’s face as he lay on the ground, he wasn’t quite sure, either.

Lancaster rolled to his knees, doubled up and obviously hurt. He grunted as he stared out the door of the office, and as he crouched and held his hand to his shoulder, the filing cabinet near Lancaster’s head burst open with a crash and rattle as the silenced round hit.

A hail of bullets followed, the silenced pops making little sound in the cavernous warehouse, but the sound of the barrage in the office bounced off the corrugated tin of the roof and walls and rang in Cameron’s ears. His instinctive reaction was to duck and cover his head as he stumbled a few steps away into the corner of the room. Lancaster ducked as well, and Blake tackled Cameron to the ground and shielded him as the room exploded around them.

When the assault ended, no one in the ruined office moved.

An eerie silence fell in the warehouse, and when Blake finally raised his head to allow Cameron to look around, dust and bits of shredded paper and cardboard were just beginning to settle.

The adrenaline began to leak away as Cameron stared, and the cold seeped in again. He started shaking as Blake helped him off the ground, and they surveyed the damage together.

Lancaster lay on his back, bleeding and staring at the ceiling unblinkingly. Preston stood in the doorway, calmly reloading what appeared to be a high-powered rifle with a scope. Julian lay at his feet, still covering his head and curled protectively as bits of shredded newspaper floated down around him.

“You could have given me a better shot, sir,” Preston told Julian calmly.

“Sorry,” Julian groaned weakly as he uncovered his head and let his arms fall to his chest. “Is he dead?” he asked with a hint of dread in his voice.

Cameron’s eyes tracked to Lancaster’s body, and his eyes widened. Lancaster certainly looked dead. Cameron looked back at Preston just in time to see the man cock his head and heft the rifle off his shoulder, pointing it at Lancaster with one hand. Then he pulled the trigger, letting off a short burst of silenced rounds. Lancaster’s lifeless body jumped as the bullets hit home, and Cameron jumped as well with a torn gasp.

“He is now,” Preston answered succinctly as he re-shouldered the rifle and smiled.

“Thank you for being thorough,” Julian grunted as he rolled onto his side and clutched at his ribs.

“As ever, sir,” Preston responded politely before setting the rifle against the doorframe and kneeling next to Julian. He gripped the knife handle that stuck out of Julian’s side and gave it a wicked yank.

Julian cursed weakly and lowered his head as Preston stuffed a handkerchief under the vest to stop the bleeding. Preston stood once more, turning to look at Blake and Cameron and nodding at them as if greeting someone in the park. He then turned his attention to the cage in the corner, where Smith and Wesson were making a cacophony of horrible sounds.

“Jesus Christ!” Blake breathed in horror as he stood. “Preston, what the hell?”

“There comes a time in this job where being honorable has no place,” Preston announced as he carefully stepped over the debris on the floor. “That’s why he needs me,” he told them with an evil smirk as he stepped over Julian toward the cage.

Blake stared at both men for a long moment and then moved to help Julian to his feet. As soon as Julian was standing, Blake grabbed him by the shoulders to look at him. “You son of a bitch,” he snapped, and then he swung at him, sending him reeling backward through the darkened doorway. “I’ll kill you myself!” Blake shouted as he grabbed at Julian’s black shirt and made to hit him again.

“No! Blake!” Cameron cried out in surprise. Hadn’t they had enough violence for one night?

Julian wasn’t even able to put up a hand to defend himself. He weaved dangerously and collapsed backward. Blake stopped his swing, moving to catch the bigger man as he fell.

“Damn it,” Blake muttered as he lowered Julian’s unconscious body to the ground. “How does he always manage to avoid the second hit?” he asked Preston in annoyance.

“Loss of blood, sir,” Preston answered calmly as he released Smith and Wesson from their cage.

Blake and Preston got Julian sitting on the bed so they could carefully remove his boots. The hospital had given him scrubs to wear home, draping a couple blankets over his shoulders to keep him warm as he moved from hospital to vehicle and vehicle to apartment. His chest was otherwise bare, due to the bulky sling on his arm and the bandages wrapped high around his ribs to cover the wound on the opposite side. His arm was broken, but it wasn’t a bad break. The bullet that had hit him had gone through the meat of his upper arm; it was painful, but it wasn’t a bad wound either.

The stab wound in his side had been the real worry. He had lost a lot of blood, and the knife had done damage not only to the soft tissue, but to the ribs as well. He was just lucky the blade had missed his lungs. It hurt him to breathe and move, but he would certainly live.

Cameron had come out of the terrifying evening with a wide assortment of bruises, a split lip, lacerations on the wrist that was attached to the chair while he struggled to reach the knife, and a real after-the-fact nervous breakdown.

But now he was mostly calm and numb, having cried himself out at the hospital and finally getting somewhat warm. He watched Julian as the other men stepped back, and he tried to resist the urge to step closer. Instead he just stood back and watched as Julian stared blankly.

The other man had half-drowsed, half-stared on the way home from the hospital. Possibly shock, the doctor had said. Definitely morphine.

He’d yet to say a word to any of them or even look at Cameron.

“I’m going to get the stuff from the hospital,” Blake said quietly, and he left the room. He was still angry, Cameron could tell. He had been moving and speaking gently ever since hitting Julian at the warehouse, trying not to display any more of the anger, but the restraint merely served to make it more obvious.

Cameron could hardly blame him. Now that he was at least partially past being scared to death, he couldn’t look at Julian without wanting to throttle him, without remembering all the pain his loss had caused. Or without wanting to curl up beside him and simply be relieved that he was alive.

Julian seemed to make a massive effort to focus his eyes, and he looked up at Cameron blankly. Cameron wanted to yell at him to snap out of it. He couldn’t ask him all the questions he wanted to ask or kick him in the shin until Julian was once again healthy and in his right mind. Instead of shouting, he stepped closer and slid his hand behind Julian’s good shoulder. “Careful,” he warned softly as he guided Julian to lie back against the pillows.

Julian reached up slowly and gripped Cameron’s wrist. He looked up into Cameron’s eyes, still slightly distant but obviously attempting to fight the remainder of the morphine he had been given. “I missed you,” he stated softly.

A bolt shot through his chest, and Cameron bit his lip against a pained moan. Searching Julian’s eyes before answering, he slowly nodded. After several moments of staring into Julian’s dark eyes, he finally realized that he didn’t know what to say.

Julian breathed out raggedly and looked down at Cameron’s hand.

He pulled it closer and slid his lips along the inside of Cameron’s wrist before he pushed his face into Cameron’s palm and closed his eyes again.

Cameron squeezed his eyes shut as he cupped Julian’s cheek, stroking the stubbled skin with his fingertips. He’d missed Julian so much he hadn’t been able to breathe without it hurting. Cameron didn’t want to hurt anymore. He didn’t want either of them to be in pain.

“You need to rest,” he urged softly. But he couldn’t force himself to move his hand away.

Julian nodded and lowered his head dejectedly, and then he moved gingerly to lie down.

“Are you hurting?” Cameron asked as he carefully placed his hand at Julian’s forehead, afraid the painkillers had worn off already.

“No,” Julian answered weakly as he released Cameron’s hand and slid down to lay on his back. It was the first time Cameron had heard him lie and not put any effort into making it believable. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment and then closed his eyes slowly.

“I’ll be out in the living room if you need anything,” Cameron told him, unable to be in the same room any longer.

Julian merely nodded to let Cameron know he had heard. He kept his eyes closed, and finally he rolled onto his side, despite the obvious pain, and curled slowly. Smith and Wesson were immediately beside him, curling against him and purring loudly.

Exhausted, Cameron let Julian move as he wanted and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him before he had to stop and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Are you okay?” Blake asked pointedly, noticeably inquiring after Cameron instead of Julian.

After a long moment, Cameron dropped his hand. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. He trudged toward the kitchen where Preston sat at the kitchen table, calmly drinking a cup of coffee. Cameron thought this was Preston’s apartment. Cameron was afraid to ask if Julian had been living here. It wasn’t far from Cameron’s own.

Blake watched Cameron for a long moment before moving slowly to sit across from Preston. “You’ll feel better once you hit him,” he murmured sympathetically.

Cameron’s jaw clenched, and he practically collapsed into the chair at the head of the table. Blake glanced at him and sighed softly.

“I’m not judging you, son,” Blake assured him. “I missed him like hell, and I barely like the bastard,” he said with a nod of his head at the closed bedroom doors.

Cameron’s nose wrinkled. “He’s only a bastard some of the time,” he defended.

Blake gave a snort and shook his head. “Expect it to get worse. He’s not good at being hurt.”

“Did you see him the time he was wearing the sling and still came to the restaurant to eat?” Cameron asked abruptly. “He told me later it was because he’d missed the week before. It was before I really realized why he was there every Tuesday. He’d been shot two weeks before—and he still came to dinner.”

Blake nodded his head slowly. “I didn’t mean hurt physically,” he said softly. “Although he is a horrible patient. Did you serve him one night in late November, when he ordered an extra glass of wine?”

Cameron tipped his head to one side. “Yeah, I did,” he said. “That was when it started. He asked me if I liked my job.”

Blake looked over at Cameron thoughtfully and then huffed softy.

“Well. That extra glass of wine? That was Arlo’s. It was the anniversary of the day Julian tossed him out on his ass. Every year, Julian would order him a glass of wine, regret who he was and what he did, and usually end up too drunk to stand.”

Cameron frowned. “He didn’t stay. I remember thinking it was a very odd night. Two glasses of wine, didn’t even touch his dinner... and he left me a two-hundred-dollar tip.”

Blake nodded. “I know,” he said with a sigh. “I called him on a job that night. I remember being afraid I hadn’t caught him in time, that he’d be too drunk to do it. That was where the shot in the arm came from. My point, though, is that he regretted the way he and Arlo parted. I think, deep down, Julian didn’t mind dying if it was Arlo doing it.”

“So why did that change? Why did Julian start trying to kill him?” Cameron asked.

Blake shrugged. “That, you’ll have to ask him. Julian’s mind doesn’t work like a normal person’s.”

Cameron inhaled deeply. He’d wondered—feared—that he was the reason for Julian’s change of heart. He pushed the thought away.

Preston glanced over at them and cleared his throat. “He loved you, Mr. Jacobs,” he stated evenly. “In his way. He loved Mr. Lancaster too.”

“I know he loved me,” Cameron said in a small voice, surprised that Preston had spoken at all. Pain lanced through him as he looked back at the bedroom doors. “But I threw it away.”

“Cam, I’ve never seen him like he is with you,” Blake said. “He’s... a totally different man. Maybe who he would have been, if life were different. Even after you broke it off, he still loved you.”

“He didn’t love me enough to let me know he was still alive,” Cameron whispered.

Preston was silent, his eyes on Cameron, who looked back at him expectantly.

“Why didn’t he try?” Cameron demanded, anger coming to the fore. After tonight, his nerves and control were shot, and he didn’t have the fortitude or the desire to hold anything back.

Preston responded to the anger by merely blinking and meeting Cameron’s eyes expressionlessly.

Cameron turned his chin sharply toward Blake. “You said he still loves me, even after what I did. Then why didn’t he tell me?”

“Cam, it’s not that simple,” Blake began.

“You’re pissed at him too! He left us thinking all this time that he was dead !” Cameron continued, his voice rising and his face flushing as he stood up and started pacing.

“I know, but, Cam—”

“No. No buts, Blake. One phone call. One e-mail. One something to let me know he was still breathing. If he forgives me, if he cares for me so much, why leave me to suffer all this time?” Cameron spit out, trembling as his emotions got the better of him.

“That, I don’t know, sir,” Preston answered calmly, as if Cameron had asked about the weather. “Mr. Cross has a reason for everything he does or doesn’t do. That doesn’t mean I always understand.”

Cameron swallowed hard and looked at Blake for an answer.

Blake met his eyes, and then he closed his own and shook his head.

Cameron turned on his heel, grabbed the jacket Preston had laid out for him, and left the apartment.

Roughly a week after his ordeal, Cameron still refused to answer the door or the telephone. He stayed in his apartment with his dogs, stewing angrily over Julian’s deception and throwing things when he thought about how many times he’d dreamed about Julian coming back to him.

It wasn’t fair, to know he was alive and yet be so angry at him.

And it was worse than that if what Blake said about Julian still loving him was true.

Cameron was sitting on his couch, staring out the window blearily when the buzzer rang. He didn’t move, letting it ring again. It continued to ring demandingly until Cameron turned his head slowly to glare at it.

Finally, he got up and dragged across the hardwood floor in his bare feet to punch at the button.

“What?” he snapped. Last time it had been Miri, trying to deliver a care package from the restaurant.

“Let me in, Cameron,” Julian’s soft voice demanded in a no-nonsense tone.

Cameron pushed the button without even thinking about it, and then he shook his head in exasperation at how automatic it was to just do as Julian said. Knowing he was coming, Cameron unlocked the door and moved away, sighing as he headed back for the couch. He was beginning to tremble as he sat and wrapped himself up in a throw blanket.

Why was Julian here?

When the knob turned, Cameron caught his breath. He could only stare and try not to shake as Julian stepped into the apartment. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on one of the hooks beside the door, and he cocked his head and looked at Cameron, not coming further into the apartment. Cameron was surprised to see that he was wearing his sling. He must have been in a lot of pain to deal with the cumbersome thing, and he still moved slowly as if he hurt all over.

Cameron stared at him, unable to think of a single, solitary thing to say.

“Hello, Cameron,” Julian murmured softly, the Irish accent still seeming unusual and foreign out of his mouth.

Cameron blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but just as quickly closed it and shook his head. He swallowed with difficulty, allowing himself to look at his erstwhile lover. He was wearing jeans, boots, and a plain blue T-shirt. Cameron had never seen him in anything but an expensive suit or... nothing at all. It was disconcerting.

“Hi,” he finally whispered.

“You look well,” Julian observed after a moment of silence.

At that moment, the dogs came stumbling out of the bedroom area where they’d been napping in front of the fireplace and scampered toward the entry to swarm Julian’s ankles.

“Blake’s been taking care of you?” Julian asked as the dogs latched onto his shoelaces and the hems of his jeans. He didn’t look away from Cameron as they cavorted around him. “May I come in?” he asked when Cameron didn’t answer.

Cameron was too dazed to do anything but nod. He didn’t want to look away, even for a second. As angry as he was, he thought he would have been able to remain composed in Julian’s presence, but seeing him again, here in his own home, was both painful and wonderful.

What... why... how... questions swirled in his head, and there was no way he could pick just one, so he shut his mouth and climbed off the couch. He met Julian’s eyes deliberately and walked the several steps forward to stand more than an arm’s length away from the other man.

“You look really good,” Julian whispered appraisingly as he watched Cameron.

Some of the shock ebbed, replaced by a terribly painful ache Cameron thought he’d gotten over. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve done,” Julian offered regretfully.

Cameron sighed heavily and looked up at Julian, his eyes intent on the other man. He stepped a little closer, a couple feet away, and reached out to ghost his fingers over Julian’s cheek. When Cameron pulled his hand away, Julian closed his eyes and lowered his head.

He never saw Cameron’s fist coming.

Julian staggered back a step and shook his head, putting his hand to his lip as it seeped blood. He huffed slightly and looked down at Cameron with a little nod. “I was sort of expecting that earlier,” he admitted.

“You son of a bitch,” Cameron bit off, wincing and shaking his hand out at his side. “What the fuck ?”

“I’m sorry,” Julian offered softly. “I had to disappear if I wanted to live.”

“Live? Live ?” Cameron asked incredulously. “But you’re dead !”

“In theory,” Julian agreed with a wince.

“A theory I’ve had to live with for six months!” Cameron said sharply as his hand curled back into a fist.

Julian’s eyes darted to the clenched fist warily, and he lowered his chin. “I know,” he said curtly. He didn’t offer another apology.

The tone of Julian’s voice cut Cameron deeply, and the upset overwhelmed the anger, for the moment. “Where have you been?” he asked brokenly.