Warrior’s Cross

Chapter One #3

“The evening special and house wine?” Cameron asked instead of allowing himself to ponder. The time that had passed since the man’s last visit to Tuesdays and the unpleasant way in which it had ended had helped alleviate the fixation he’d developed, and Cameron was easily able to keep his composure. For now, anyway.

The man nodded and tilted his head to the side discreetly, as if he were aware of the light hitting him and highlighting the bruising.

Cameron acknowledged him silently and deliberately lowered his eyes; he didn’t want to make the man uncomfortable. Apparently, they were back to the silent dance.

Cameron returned five minutes later with the bottle of wine and a crystal glass, setting them down along with the bread-basket from a tray he handed off to another server. He started working on uncorking the bottle, pausing to look out at the falling snow with a pleased smile before returning his attention to what he was doing.

The man watched him contemplatively, his expression giving away nothing else as he waited for Cameron to finish. Humming just slightly under his breath, Cameron looked up at him as he set the cork aside. The man had never examined it before, and Cameron didn’t figure he would now, so he went ahead and poured a few blurbs into the glass.

“We’ll be needing another,” the man said to him as he poured, his voice barely above a whisper, as always.

Cameron’s hand shook a little as he pulled the wine bottle back.

“Of course, sir,” he said. He wondered if the odd ritual from that night weeks ago would be repeated. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see it; that was when his fascination had gone into overdrive. But if the man wasn’t going to repeat that gesture, that meant he was actually meeting someone.

The dark man reached out and took the glass gently, his big hand cupping the crystal and bringing it to his lips without even disturbing the liquid inside. He tasted it slowly and nodded his approval as he set the glass down on the table.

Cameron’s mouth curled up at one side. He would never tire of watching this man sample wine, he knew that much. He left the man sitting for a few moments before reappearing with the other glass, placing it carefully with the other place setting, and departing without comment.

The big man stood suddenly as Cameron moved away from the table. His eyes were on the entrance, and his fingers deftly buttoned his suit coat as he stood straight and tall. The movement nearly startled Cameron into turning toward him again, but he managed to keep moving as he glanced toward the entrance.

Keri was escorting a woman to the table. She was tall, blonde, and thin, pretty in a fake sort of way, her long legs accentuated by her stiletto heels and the high slit in her black dress. The man greeted her with a murmur of words and kissed her cheek as he pulled out her chair for her.

As soon as he reached the service area, Cameron had to hold himself back from darting to the shutters to try to see what was going on. He reminded himself to act properly, to be respectful of the customer and his privacy, and then he sighed, knowing it was a losing battle.

“That’s the first time he’s ever had someone with him,” Miri said as she stopped next to him and peered through the shutters.

“Quit spying,” Cameron chastised, even though that was exactly what he wanted to do. Miri looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and Cameron bit his lip as he looked at her. “What are they doing?” he asked, almost against his will.

“He’s definitely talking to her,” Miri answered with a wry smile as she turned back to watch some more.

Cameron sighed and picked up a water pitcher. If the man had someone at the table with him, then he needed to go check on them. It had never happened before, and it struck him that he might be slightly jealous. Cameron thought of the man’s time at Tuesdays as his, no matter how unrealistic it was. And if it were a date, it was poking all kinds of holes in Miri’s theory.

He unobtrusively approached the table, silently taking up first her water glass and filling it, then his.

“I received your offer this morning,” the woman was saying in a low, pleasantly smoky voice as Cameron filled their glasses. “That’s not the price we agreed on, Julian.”

“It’s the price, nonetheless,” the man she addressed murmured as he leaned back and looked up at Cameron. He nodded his thanks.

Cameron swallowed hard on a knot of nervous excitement. Julian .

That was the man’s name. Finally, after all these months, he knew the man’s name. It was such a rush and a relief. Why had he never thought to ask Blake?

“What’s good here?” the woman asked as she picked up her menu. “I assume you’re footing the bill?”

Julian merely nodded.

“The special tonight is braised boar marsala over creamed potatoes with baby peas,” Cameron offered after clearing his throat. “The house favorites are vegetable penne in lemon sauce and marinated shrimp in champagne beurre blanc.” Somewhere inside, he was turning over the man’s name. Julian. Julian. The dark man looked like a Julian.

“Shrimp sounds wonderful,” the woman responded with a smile that showed a glimpse of perfect teeth. She closed her menu and handed it to Cameron. “I’d also like a cosmo,” she added. She looked at Julian and grinned mischievously. “You don’t mind if I drink on the job, do you?” she teased.

Julian narrowed his eyes and cocked his head slightly. “If it will improve your performance,” he responded with all seriousness.

Cameron pressed his lips together to keep from frowning. He took the menu with a soft murmur of acknowledgment and turned toward the bar. One cosmo, coming up. Surely to God the woman wasn’t what she was talking like. She looked far too classy for that, and the man—Julian—certainly he’d never need to pay for companionship.

Cameron put in the woman’s order and couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to the mirror to watch them. They were obviously talking, the man still stoic as the woman waved one hand around lazily.

Cameron’s eyes widened as he saw the woman’s foot rise and deliberately rub along the man’s calf. Julian tilted his head and said something in response.

Coughing slightly, Cameron picked up the drink. He headed back over to the table, delivering it silently, trying not to listen to the end of their conversation and failing.

“Do I look like a whore?” the woman asked him before he could back away from the table. Cameron’s eyes widened, and he could only blink at her.

Julian barked a laugh and shook his head. The sound sent a jolt through Cameron’s gut, and he found himself flustered again despite telling himself he wouldn’t be. Cameron glanced quickly to Julian, who was looking out the window, probably to hide his smile. It made him unbelievably gorgeous. His dark eyes watched Cameron’s reaction in the reflection on the glass.

Despite his surprise and the sudden heat under his collar, Cameron tore his attention away from the man’s transformed face, tipped his head, and answered with the first thing that came to mind. “If you are, ma’am, there’s no way I could afford you.” Cameron bowed slightly and turned away, hoping his haste wasn’t overt as he fled the table. His heart pounded so hard that he felt lightheaded. He stopped at a nearby table of several people to answer questions.

“At least you’re an expensive whore instead of a gold-digging married woman,” Julian said to the woman with a smirk while Cameron was still within hearing range.

The woman sighed loudly and shook her head. “I thought they said you were professional about these things,” she groused. Julian remained silent, merely raising an eyebrow in response. She sighed heavily again and began tapping her wedding ring against her glass nervously. “So, how do we go about this?” she asked.

“Leave that to me,” Julian responded, his voice low and calm. “You’ve already done your part simply by coming here. As soon as I receive payment, we continue.”

“And if I change my mind at the last moment?” she asked with a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

“Will you?” Julian asked her in that oddly calm, smooth voice.

She stared at him and then looked down at her drink with a frown. She inhaled deeply and then shook her head. “No,” she answered. “No, I want to do this.”

Julian nodded wordlessly. “Then enjoy your dinner,” he suggested, “and stop worrying about what comes next.”

Making his way back to the service area, Cameron didn’t know what to think about what he had overheard. The woman was obviously joking about being a prostitute. There was no way she would advertise so blatantly if she really were one. He stepped through the doors and walked over to the counter, thinking that he certainly hoped it was a joke. Julian was too gorgeous a man to pay for sex. Then he stopped still, staring at the wall. What if Julian wasn’t the one paying? That last snatch of conversation he’d heard certainly sounded incriminating.

“What’s wrong with you?” Miri asked as she whisked by him.

Cameron shook himself. “Uh. Just thinking,” he said weakly. “I’m okay.”

Miri stopped and looked at him doubtfully. Cameron waved her off. “Just got too much going on,” he said. “Go on.”

“All right,” she responded with a frown as she took her next tray of food and made her way back out into the dining room.

Fifteen minutes later, Cameron emerged with both dinners, setting the tray down expertly before moving to place their plates. He glanced between them to wait for their attention.

Julian watched him as he worked, his eyes following unerringly as his dinner mate looked out the window and rambled about how much she hated Chicago winters. As Cameron arranged the china, he noticed Julian watching him closely and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Thank you,” Julian said to him, the soft words and intent look in his eyes making Cameron feel like the only person Julian saw at that moment was him.

Cameron straightened, smiled nervously, and nodded as he tried to tell himself that he was imagining these things and to calm down.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.

“Are you always this pleasant?” the woman asked Julian dryly.

“Not often,” Julian answered without taking his eyes off Cameron.

Cameron stepped back with the tray, glancing to the woman before looking back at Julian. “Enjoy your meal,” he said solely to the dark man, feeling a jump in his pulse at his own boldness. Then he edged back from the table.

Julian’s black, unreadable eyes followed his movements, and Cameron paused for a moment, feeling that odd flutter strengthen; then the woman’s chattering voice broke the moment, and he turned to leave.

“If you’ll bring the check back with you,” Julian requested softly.

Cameron looked back at Julian, nodded obediently, and departed; he didn’t even realize he was smiling until he got into the back and one of his fellow waiters gave him a strange look. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

Charles shook his head and grinned impishly. “You’re so completely screwed,” he said with a laugh before moving on with his own tray of food.

Cameron sighed and rolled his eyes. Miri had obviously been talking. He got the check together as requested, despite several of the others chattering around him as they took advantage of a lull in the Saturday night crowd. He wasn’t flustered, just... fascinated, right?

Yes.

He sighed, forcing himself to be honest, at least with himself. He was infatuated. Maybe it was the voice; it was always low and husky, sometimes practically not there. And that one laugh he’d heard...

His mind wandered back to the thought that this Julian might be the “escort”—a crazy thought, for sure. But with looks like that, Cameron could imagine the man would command whatever money he wanted. It would explain why he was so well off but had to jump up and run at the ring of a cell phone.

Nose wrinkling, Cameron told himself to quit being silly. He put the check in the folder and headed back out, stopping at several tables along the way before heading toward the window table.

Both Julian and the woman were standing; he was helping her into her coat. She placed her scarf around her neck and gave him an improperly long farewell kiss, then whispered something into his ear as she slid her hand into the pocket of his suit coat and placed something inside it. She practically looked through Cameron as she turned away and walked toward the door. The heads of several men in the restaurant turned to watch her go.

The display didn’t do too much for dispelling Cameron’s little theory, even though he supposed if the woman were paying for sex, Julian would probably have left with her.

Julian waited until she left the restaurant before he returned to his seat, discreetly wiping her lipstick off his lips and cheek with his napkin. He reached into his pocket and extracted a piece of paper. He tilted his head as he read it, shook his head, and tossed it carelessly onto the table.

Cameron waited until he was done to approach with the check. He set the folder at Julian’s elbow before silently picking up the woman’s plate. He resisted the urge—only barely—to make eye contact again.

Or to glance at the slip of paper.

“Would you do me a favor if I asked it of you?” Julian inquired quietly.

Now Cameron couldn’t resist, and any unfounded thoughts about the man’s profession melted into the background, overpowered by the man himself. He turned his chin to look at Julian as he straightened slowly. His answer wasn’t the ready-to-please answer he’d usually give. It was simply, after studying Julian for a few breaths, “Maybe.”

Julian produced a small electronic device, seemingly from nowhere, and he slid it onto the table, his palm on top of it as he looked up at Cameron. “Can you give this to Mr. Nichols after I’m gone?” he asked. “Without anyone seeing you do it?” he added pointedly.

It wasn’t at all what Cameron expected to hear. His eyes flickered from Julian to his hand, flat on the table. Without speaking, he reached to take up Julian’s plate with one hand, set it on top of the woman’s plate already in his hand, and reached again to pick up the linen napkin, dragging the cloth over Julian’s hand. “Let me just get this out of your way.”

Julian watched him as their hands touched, and he nodded, his eyes as unreadable as ever. “Thank you,” he murmured sincerely.

Cameron gathered the item in the napkin, holding it securely.

“You’re welcome,” he offered, looking at Julian directly and enjoying the way it made him feel just to meet the man’s eyes.

Julian reached under his jacket for his wallet and extracted several bills, never looking away. He slid them into the leather folder and offered it before Cameron could even turn away.

Cameron shoved the bunched-up napkin into his pocket and reached to take the folder. He finally dragged his eyes from Julian and noted the heavy falling snow outside the window. “Be careful out there,” he said, knowing he meant more than one thing by it when he walked away.

It was late before Cameron had time to seek out Blake Nichols in his office. The little recorder burned a hole in his pocket all evening, and despite pulling it out and studying it, wondering what it meant, Cameron hadn’t found the nerve to turn it on. He turned the corner, stopped at the office door, and knocked quietly.

“Enter,” Blake called from inside his office.

Cameron opened the door and stepped inside. “Evening, Blake,” he greeted. Blake had threatened him into dropping the “Mr. Nichols” almost six years ago.

Blake looked up from the papers on his desk and smiled widely.

“Good evening, Cameron,” he greeted in the same friendly manner he always did. “What can I do for you? How’s the night going?”

“Really well,” Cameron said, smiling. “I think all three parties went off great, the people were happy... and they drank a lot of wine,” he added with a knowing smile.

“Wonderful,” Blake commented wryly. “The better the tips, right?” he joked as he picked up his pen and tapped it against the papers on his desk. “Was that all?” he asked, still friendly and open but obviously distracted.

Cameron hesitantly slid his hand into his pocket and took the three steps to Blake’s desk. “He asked me to give this to you.” He pulled out the recorder and set it down.

Blake looked down at the recorder, his body suddenly noticeably tense when he glanced back up at Cameron. “He?” he questioned softly without touching the recorder.

Cameron shifted uncomfortably. “Him. Julian.”

One of Blake’s eyebrows edged up, and he looked down at the recorder again. “Did you listen to it?” he asked evenly.

Cameron shook his head, looking at Blake steadily.

Blake hummed thoughtfully and picked up the recorder, turning it over to examine it before pressing the rewind button briefly and then hitting play. Julian’s deceptively soft, deep voice filtered out of the tiny speaker almost immediately:

“I trust you know never to come back here.”

“Of course. In twenty-four hours I’ll be in the Caymans, mourning my dead husband. I have no reason to come back.”

“Good. Finish your meal.”

Blake cut off the recorder with a click and looked up at Cameron with a small smile. “Thank you, Cameron,” he said in a pleased voice. “You didn’t hear that,” he instructed with a grin.

Cameron shrugged. “I don’t hear a lot of things,” he said with a small smile, though he thought the exchange exceedingly odd. A lot of people talked about delicate things at restaurants, forgetting the help that moved around them silently. He didn’t know what was going on, and he didn’t think he wanted to know.

“Well, you’ve done your good deed for the week, at any rate,” Blake informed him as he picked up the phone at his elbow and dialed. “What did you think of the woman?” he asked slyly as he waited for an answer.

Cameron’s lips twitched. “She asked me if she looked like a whore,” he said significantly.

“She might as well be,” Blake grumbled good-naturedly. “We’ll see how she likes a nice eight-by-ten cell,” he added with relish. “Don’t put me on hold!” he shouted into the phone, and then he cursed under his breath and looked back up at Cameron. “Julian, huh?” he asked with a small, knowing smirk.

“That’s what she called him,” Cameron offered weakly. “You asked—”

“That is his name,” Blake assured him. “What do you think of him ?” he asked, the smirk growing into one of his signature mischievous grins.

“Think of him ?” Cameron echoed with a slight crack to his voice.

His mind raced as he tried to think of something appropriate. “Uh. He tips really well, and he doesn’t ask for outlandish things. He’s a good customer,” he finally said, not sure what he could say without revealing how he felt.

“He certainly is,” Blake agreed with a nod, though his smile didn’t fade. “Did he say anything to you about this?” he asked as he waved at the recorder on the desk. “Or did he just thrust it at you and grunt like he usually does?”

Cameron thought about it, his eyes going out of focus. “He asked me if I would do him a favor if he asked. I said maybe.” He shrugged again.

“Slightly foolhardy of you, considering the man asking the favor,” Blake chastised as he tapped his pen impatiently, still holding the phone to one ear.

Cameron snapped out of it and answered without thinking it through. “What about him? It’s not like I know him. I mean, if a gorgeous woman asked you for a favor, wouldn’t you say yes?”

“Probably.” Blake laughed softly. “Ha!” he exclaimed suddenly. “No no no; don’t put me on hold,” he growled into the phone. He looked up at Cameron and grinned wickedly. “Go ahead and take off, Cam,” he advised with a jerk of his head. “Let the others clean up tonight.”

“Okay,” Cameron responded in amused confusion. Blake was obviously doing something he was enjoying immensely, and when Blake was enjoying himself, it was hard not to be amused.

He gave Blake one last look as the man turned away and started talking. At least Blake hadn’t teased him after that “gorgeous” line. As he walked down the hall and toward the kitchen to get his coat, Cameron told himself to stop thinking about the man named Julian. He rolled his eyes. As if that would do any good now.

The man known as Julian Cross paced restlessly as he waited for midnight. He held his phone in his hand, had been holding it long enough that it had grown warm, in fact, and he glanced at the time display every few seconds as the hour neared. Finally he allowed himself to dial Blake Nichols’ number.

“I wondered how long you’d wait,” Blake said in greeting.

“Shut up,” Julian grumbled as he forced himself to stop pacing. “Did you get it?” he asked worriedly. He’d harbored doubts about using the waiter as a delivery service, but Blake had more than once assured him the man was reliable and discreet, and Julian’s own slight infatuation had pushed him into being incautious. He’d been fretting over it ever since—something he wasn’t prone to do.

“It’s safe right here in my hot little hands,” Blake answered. He paused. “Did you really think Cameron wouldn’t bring it to me?”

“Hey,” Julian grunted in annoyance. “When something leaves my hands, I worry, okay? That’s what I do. I don’t trust you or your harebrained ideas any farther than I can throw you.”

Blake chuckled. “Well, you can stop worrying. Cameron delivered it just like he said he would. He didn’t even listen to it first.” He paused again. “Why’d you ask him? Why not bring it to me directly? You knew I was in my office.”

Julian pressed his lips together and then pursed them thoughtfully.

He thought about pointing out that there was always the possibility that he was being followed and traipsing back into the private offices to see Blake whenever he wanted probably wasn’t a good idea. But Blake already knew that. He was simply poking at one of Julian’s very few vulnerable spots. Blake knew Julian was interested in Cameron, and he just couldn’t help himself from teasing Julian mercilessly about it.

“He’s more fun to look at than you are,” Julian finally answered instead of giving a more serious answer.

Blake’s laugh rang out. “You’re an ass,” he responded delightedly. “Oh, by the way, did you know you’re gorgeous ?”

“Yes, I was aware,” Julian answered without missing a beat. He waited a moment before he gave a suspicious, “Why?”

A snicker came across the line. “Never mind. I made the call, and they’ll get this thing to the right people. Good job, by the way. She wasn’t as smart as we gave her credit for, huh?”

“Not nearly.” Julian groaned. “I’m almost embarrassed I put so much effort into her. Did you know she wrote me a fucking check? Talk about a paper trail.”

“What’d you do with it?” Blake asked in amusement.

“Burned it when I got home.”

“Well, lessons learned,” Blake replied easily. “Will you be here next week? It’s a holiday, you know. I’ll be out of town.”

“If you’ll be out of town, why do you care where I’ll be?” Julian countered.

“I don’t want to think about you sitting in that mausoleum of a house alone on Christmas Eve,” Blake answered sincerely.

“How sweet,” Julian responded flatly. He sighed softly and looked out at the falling snow. “But since you won’t be here, regardless, again I ask: what do you care?”

“Jackass,” Blake accused fondly.

“Yeah. There’s always Christmas Mass,” Julian muttered.

“That doesn’t count as company,” Blake pointed out.

“Yes, well, it’ll do,” Julian assured him, thinking to himself that if he could muster the nerve, he could probably find himself some of Blake’s brand of company. His mind turned again toward thoughts of a dark-haired, blue-eyed waiter.

“Take care of yourself, Julian,” Blake advised knowingly. “Unless something breaks, you’re free ’til Christmas. Good night.”

“Sweet dreams, you bastard,” Julian offered with a small smile.

“Of course they will be. Emily’s back from Paris,” Blake said with a laugh, and he hung up.

Julian smiled and shook his head. He folded his phone and tossed it onto the nearest piece of furniture, wondering what in the hell he was going to do with himself for the next several days without any jobs to work or research. He stared out at the snow, pondering the memory of the way the waiter’s lips had curved into a smile when he’d watched the snow falling outside of Tuesdays.

He growled slightly, shaking his head in defeat. He thought about that man far too much for it to be healthy. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, if Cameron would respond favorably if he made a move.

Julian cocked his head and stared out the window, letting himself wonder and think about a man he didn’t really know.