Warrior's Cross (27 page)

Preston didn’t say another word. He merely nodded and turned on his heel, looking disturbingly military when he did it, and led the way down the stairs to the car that waited. He opened the rear door for Cameron and stood rigidly beside it.

Cameron paused for a moment, but shrugged off the weird feeling and climbed in. “Thank you,” he said, wondering what was going on.

Julian wasn’t in the car like Cameron had expected him to be, and Preston offered no explanation as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. As he pulled out into the heavy traffic, his ice-blue eyes slid sideways to check Cameron in the rearview mirror, and he gave him what could have been meant to be a reassuring smile.

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The driver reminded Cameron a lot of Julian. They looked nothing alike, obviously. Where Julian was large and bulky, Preston was wiry and hard-looking. Where Julian was dark and warm, Preston was pale and cool. But they had the same capable, unflappable air to them.

Cameron was almost certain, as he watched Preston, that there was some sort of military training behind it. He knew Blake had been a medic in some branch of the military years ago. Perhaps that was how they all knew one another. He would have to come up with the nerve to ask Julian.

Relaxing a bit into the luxurious seat, Cameron turned his eyes to watch the city pass by. It wasn’t long before the built-up areas began to fade away, replaced by the large old homes Cameron remembered from his last trip in Julian’s Lexus.

This time, in the daylight, he could see more, and the sight was even more impressive. He’d never seen houses like this in his life, even on television. It occurred to him that Julian must not be just well-off, but extremely wealthy. Just the property taxes on these places would drain most people’s bank accounts in no time, Cameron was sure. He shook his head. It just didn’t seem like Julian to be… posh. He wasn’t.

He was just Julian.

Soon enough, Preston pulled up to the iron gate that protected Julian’s driveway. He rolled down the window, letting in some chilly morning air and a few stray snowflakes as he swiped the card that sent the gate sliding open. When he pulled up to the front of the house, he hopped out quickly and came around to open Cameron’s door wordlessly.

Cameron climbed out and stood quietly as Preston shut the door and started up the steps. He figured he’d better follow, and he had to hop quickly to catch up. Preston ushered him into the large foyer, and the door shut behind them with a foreboding echo.

“This way, please,” Preston requested, and he made his way toward the massive staircase.

On more familiar ground, Cameron followed him up the stairs and down the hall to Julian’s little suite of rooms, brow furrowing along the way. “Preston, what’s—”

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“He doesn’t exactly know I went to get you, sir,” Preston answered with a twitch of his lips that betrayed some amusement. “I’m not even sure he’s aware today is Friday,” he confided as they got to the set of closed heavy double doors of Julian’s bedroom.

Cameron’s eyes widened. “Aware… What’s going on? What

happened?”

Preston actually smirked, a reaction he obviously tried to suppress.

He reached over and shoved the doors open, and he waved Cameron into the room.

The curtains in Julian’s bedroom were drawn, and the little bit of dull morning sunlight managing to leak around the edges was the only light in the room. It was still easy enough to make out the two huge cats on the bed, their tails flipping in annoyance at the disturbance. Beneath them, under a quilt and several pillows, was a lump that had to be Julian, curled on his side and unmoving.

“Is… is he okay?” Cameron asked shakily, trying very hard not to run right to the bed.

In response, Preston cleared his throat against a slight laugh. The figure in the bed groaned and shifted just enough to disturb the cats, who both meowed plaintively as their tails twitched harder.

“Preston,” Julian’s hoarse voice said from under one of the pillows. “Please kill me,” he requested miserably.

“I’m sorry, sir, but that will have to wait. You have a visitor,”

Preston responded with a grin at Cameron. He nodded his head, urging him to go further into the room.

The unusual humor from Preston got a half-smile out of Cameron, and he shook his head as he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, trying not to disturb the nearby cats. “Julian?”

Julian shifted slightly under the quilt, and his hand moved slowly to push the edge of a pillow up to reveal one dark eye blinking up at Cameron blearily.

“Cameron?” he asked in confusion, his voice almost comically muffled by his quilt.

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“Yeah,” Cameron said quietly, reaching to pull the quilt down slightly. He pushed the pillow away from Julian’s head and smoothed back his hair. He was pale under the flush of what was probably a fever. “What’s wrong?” Cameron asked worriedly.

Julian answered with a plaintive groan and closed his eyes. “I’m dying,” he answered, his voice just on the verge of a whine. “What are you doing here?” he asked with the oddest hint of hope in his voice.

“Ah, I’m not really sure?” Cameron tried, glancing to Preston.

“You asked me to bring him, sir,” Preston offered helpfully.

“Don’t you remember?” he asked, barely restraining a laugh as he turned and left the room, closing the doors behind him.

“I did?” Julian asked Cameron as he opened his eyes again and blinked slowly. At the end of the bed, one of the cats stood and stretched languidly before it began stalking his way slowly toward Cameron.

“Julian—” Cameron looked from the door to the cat to his lover and back to the cat, just in case. He had only had one experience with the two animals, but he had seen just how mean and possessive they actually were. He thought he’d be safe as long as he didn’t move closer to Julian. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you sick?” He laid a hand against Julian’s forehead. He felt fevered as well as looking it, and Cameron frowned harder.

“They shot me,” Julian answered, his voice actually cracking and ending in a squeak.

Cameron blinked. “Shot? Again?”

Julian shook his head and groaned, beginning to struggle to drag the quilt off his shoulders. When he pulled it all the way down, Cameron could see his bare shoulder and chest were clearly bruised and battered, with several red welts that looked like scratches that hadn’t quite broken the skin. His forearms were bandaged heavily and his hands were bruised and badly scratched. On the upper part of his right arm was a single Care Bears Band-Aid, and he pointed at it petulantly with the other hand.

“Shot,” he spat as he pointed at it again emphatically.

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Cameron stared at the Band-Aid for a long moment and then bit his bottom lip. Now, he knew why Preston was trying so hard not to laugh. “That’s just… terrible,” he managed to get out before he had to clamp his lips shut again.

The cat began to walk his way up Julian’s body, crouching on his master’s hip as Julian waved his hand. His tail twitched back and forth, sliding against Cameron’s arm as it did so.

“It’s not funny,” Julian insisted miserably. “Bad kitty!” he shouted suddenly, just before the cat pounced on him, batting at the whites of the bandages on Julian’s waving fingers and then attacking his face and biting Julian’s chin before hopping to the other side of the bed to lick himself clean.

Cameron couldn’t help it. His laughter rang out, and he almost fell off the bed as Julian burrowed back under his bedcovers for protection.

There was another tussle as the other cat joined in, pouncing on Julian’s feet as he moved beneath the covers.

“Bad kitties,” Julian muttered pitifully.

Smiling, Cameron watched his normally stoic lover so helpless and pitiful, and he found it oddly endearing. He savored it. “You’re not feeling that bad,” he remarked. “Not if you’re wrestling with those monsters.”

“They’re evil,” Julian insisted as he tucked his toes under Wesson’s loudly purring body, causing the cat to give a throaty meow of complaint.

“But you love them,” Cameron pointed out in amusement.

Julian sighed tiredly and closed his eyes, his body relaxing and going limp in the bed. “How can two tiny little shots make your entire body so bloody sore?” he asked Cameron miserably as his words slurred together.

Cameron bit his lip. “What sort of shots did they give you?” he asked in a voice that wavered with amusement.

“Tetanus and rabies,” Julian answered grumpily. His accent began to morph into something that sounded almost foreign. As if there was a Warrior’s Cross 193

hint of New England to it, maybe. “Fucking rabies. Like I’m a fucking dog.”

Cameron bit his lips hard to keep from laughing. “Anything I can do to help?” he asked after he was sure he could form the words.

“No,” Julian groaned. “My arm hurts. My leg hurts. My head hurts. My ass hurts,” he rattled off in complaint as he fussed with his pillow and wallowed miserably.

Shaking his head tolerantly, Cameron reached out to comb his fingers through Julian’s hair. “Poor baby. Your ass hurts, and I didn’t even get to contribute.”

“I can’t believe he brought you here,” Julian grumbled against his pillow.

Cameron frowned. “He said you asked him to.”

“He’s a lying bastard,” Julian claimed grumpily. “Why would I want you to see me like this?” he asked as he finally looked up at Cameron with glazed black eyes.

“Why wouldn’t you? You’ve seen me a hell of a lot worse,”

Cameron said, frowning slightly. He leaned over to kiss the corner of Julian’s eye. “You don’t have to be Mr. Tough Guy all the time.”

“Yes, but…” Julian groaned softly and shifted in bed. “I’m cranky,” he admitted. “And drugged,” he added with a point of one long, scarred finger toward a bottle of painkillers on the bedside table.

“You’re allowed,” Cameron said as he cocked his head at the bottle. He shifted slightly. “You really want me to go?”

Julian looked up at him again and pursed his lips, frowning. “Not really,” he answered finally. “If you lift my arm for me I might hug you,” he added with a small smile.

Cameron stood up, kicked off his shoes, and climbed onto the bed next to Julian. He stayed sitting up and leaned against the headboard.

“C’mere and let me hold you,” he suggested. “I promise I won’t tell.”

Julian looked around warily as if not quite trusting the situation.

Cameron didn’t imagine Julian got many offers of comfort when he was miserable like this. He struggled to push himself up from the 194

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mattress, the muscles in his back and left arm bunching with the extra effort, and he held his right arm to his body protectively as he slid a little on the bed. When he moved, the sheets fell down even more, revealing a large piece of gauze taped to his lower thigh, just above his knee. It was stark white against his skin, with a hint of red spreading through the center. He lowered himself slowly and laid his cheek on Cameron’s thigh with a sound that was nearly a whimper.

Cameron sighed and shook his head slightly as he rubbed one hand up and down Julian’s back slowly, the other beginning to twirl through his hair. “You’re bleeding,” he murmured sadly. “What really happened, Julian?”

“There wasn’t supposed to be a dog,” Julian insisted gruffly.

“A dog?” Cameron looked at the bandages and then at Julian’s arm. “You got attacked by a dog? Seriously? Was it Cujo?”

“It was a big dog,” Julian insisted. He pointed at his bite wound and displayed the defensive marks on his arms. The teeth appeared to have sunk into the muscle of his quad and taken out a chunk of it before the dog went for his throat. He’d gotten his arms up in time, and they’d taken the punishment meant for his jugular. “He didn’t even have to stand on his tip-toes,” he insisted as his eyes seemed to close against his will.

Cameron petted him soothingly. “I’m sure he was very big. And scary,” he murmured. It was on the tip of his tongue to question Julian further, but he couldn’t do it. Not when Julian was so obviously not in control of his senses.

“There wasn’t supposed to be a dog,” Julian repeated slowly.

“They had to know there was a dog,” he muttered to himself. “That’s something you’re supposed to tell people.”

Cameron had no idea what to say, and none of what Julian was telling him was making much sense to him. “Shhhh,” he urged softly.

“Sleep.” He kept petting gently.

“I think they tried to kill me, Cam,” Julian mumbled, using Cameron’s nickname for the first time that Cameron had ever heard.

“Death by dog. Big-ass fucking dog.”

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Both Cameron’s brows rose, and he chewed his lip again. Julian had to be talking about work. Nothing else made sense. “Who would think that would kill you, Julian? You’re better than any dog.” Okay, so, he had no idea what he was talking about. But he believed in Julian’s skill, nonetheless.

“He was like Rin Tin Tin on speed,” Julian said, his words running even more. “Preston wouldn’t shoot him.”

“Well,” Cameron said, face screwing up, “I’m not sure I could shoot a dog either.”

“He was eating me!” Julian insisted pitifully. “I had to get a shot!

Two shots! And I have to go back for more rabies shots! I’m probably going to wake up with fur,” he claimed, his oddly accented words beginning to truly slur with exhaustion and misery on top of the effects of the medication.

“So did you shoot him?” Cameron asked awkwardly before running his fingers across Julian’s cheek.

“No,” Julian answered grudgingly. “He was just doing his job,” he sighed, as if that was the only thing he could say to console himself for not killing the animal that mauled him. “Preston fired into the air, and it scared him. The dog, not Preston. And then he ran off to go find Blake and left me there. Bleeding. Preston did. Not the dog,” he told Cameron very seriously. “And then Blake laughed at me.”

Cameron covered his mouth, shaking with silent laughter.

“I think they set me up,” Julian said suddenly. He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly. “There was nothing there but a dog.”