Warrior's Cross (28 page)

Cameron frowned, his laughter dying. “Julian?” His lover didn’t talk about his work except in the vaguest of terms with him. He didn’t want Julian to be angry later because he’d allowed him to ramble like this.

“Hmm?” Julian responded dazedly.

“Do you know what you’re talking about?” Cameron asked tentatively.

“Usually,” Julian answered in an innocent voice.

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Cameron snorted. “What about now?”

“I’m pretty sure. There was nothing but a dog,” Julian answered in the same tone.

“Right.” Cameron shook his head. Cameron knew Julian wouldn’t want him to hear him like this. “All right. Time to sleep, lover,” he murmured.

Julian’s eyes closed obediently, and his fingers tightened against the fabric of Cameron’s jeans. “It’s changing, Cameron,” he murmured.

“They’re starting to eat their own.”

Cameron really hoped Julian wasn’t talking about dogs. “Just be careful,” he whispered, starting to pet Julian’s hair again. It sounded like Julian was being threatened, and that hit Cameron in the gut.

Julian was silent, his breathing even and steady for several minutes. He opened his eyes again slowly. “Would you ever leave Chicago?” he asked softly. His words were still slow, but he was obviously putting more effort into making sense.

“Never really thought about it,” Cameron admitted as he peered down at Julian. He’d thought the other man had finally fallen asleep.

“I’ve lived here all my life, and I’ve had no reason to leave. Why?”

Julian stared off into the distance for a long, silent moment before closing his eyes again. “My arm hurts,” he finally murmured in place of an answer.

Confused, Cameron let it go, instead shushing him gently again.

“Go to sleep. It’ll be better in the morning.”

“No, it won’t,” Julian practically whined. “They hurt for fucking days.”

Cameron sighed. “I guess you’ve had a tetanus shot before, huh?

Are you sure I can’t get you anything to help?”

“They gave me painkillers,” Julian answered slowly, as if measuring his words now to keep from slurring. He’d apparently forgotten he’d already told Cameron that. “Preston left an hour ago to get me ice,” he added. “Ice!” he suddenly shouted accusingly at the Warrior’s Cross 197

closed double doors, and then he buried his face against Cameron’s thigh and groaned miserably.

“Were you this cranky when you really got shot?” Cameron asked, amusement tinting his voice.

“I really got shot this time,” Julian insisted, his voice muffled.

“I mean shot-shot. With the gun,” Cameron corrected patiently.

“Getting shot with a gun is easier,” Julian claimed.

“Easier?” Cameron exclaimed in disbelief.

“People don’t laugh at you when you get shot-shot,” Julian spat as he raised his head.

“Julian,” Cameron said quietly. “I don’t want you hurt at all. I don’t care if it’s a gunshot wound or a paper cut.”

“Paper cuts hurt too,” Julian pointed out as his eyes closed once more.

“Yeah, I know,” Cameron murmured, resigning himself to holding Julian for however long it took for him to get to sleep. “You going to rest or should I get Preston to bring you some ice?”

“Rest,” Julian repeated obediently. “Cameron?” he added in a near whisper, his voice going hoarse in a manner reminiscent of the way he had spoken when he’d first said anything to him.

“Yeah?” Cameron brushed his fingers lightly over Julian’s cheek.

“If I had to pick up and leave,” Julian said in a hushed voice,

“would you go with me?”

Cameron’s pulse sped, and he had to draw in a long breath as several thoughts buzzed through his mind. But what it boiled down to was… he loved Julian. “Yeah. I think I would.”

Julian’s body seemed to relax slightly, and he sighed loudly. “Next time someone tries to kill me with a dog,” he muttered.

Cameron smiled tremulously, glad Julian couldn’t see it. “Okay,”

he breathed agreeably.

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CAMERON took a couple vacation days from work and stayed at Julian’s house most of that weekend, venturing out only to return to his place and feed the puppies. He found himself spending most of the time trying desperately not to laugh about how miserable Julian was because of his shots and the dog bites. There was something so wrong yet so funny about such a large, stoic man whimpering about being drugged and sore.

While Julian slept off the misery, Cameron spent the rest of his time trying not to piss off Smith and Wesson, trying to get Preston to say more than a few words at a time, and trying not to worry about the things Julian had said when he’d been suffering from the effects of the painkillers.

He’d also explored Julian’s house a little, feeling almost like a small child who was up past his bedtime and snooping. He discovered there were a total of four people on staff at the house: Preston, the butler, a maid, and a cook. They were all friendly, if reserved.

On Monday Julian was up and about but doing nothing more intense than showing Cameron a secret passage that went from the study to the kitchen. It had made him laugh like a little kid as he showed Cameron how to get in and out of it.

They’d spoken no angry words, they’d not dealt with secrets or mysteries, and the most stressful thing they’d done was play with Smith and Wesson, an activity that often included screaming at the top of your lungs when one of the cats got tired of being poked and latched onto a toe or other suitably tender area.

It had been fun, spending time with Julian somewhere different but still
safe
. Thinking that, Cameron found himself more disturbed than ever.

BACK to work, Cameron smoothly delivered dinner to a couple dining out on a quiet Tuesday night, answering their questions about the gourmet selections and promising to check on them soon. When he Warrior’s Cross 199

returned to the service area, Miri was waiting for him. It was her first night back after a week off to visit her family.

“How was your weekend?” she asked him pointedly.

Cameron peered at her, wondering where the attitude was coming from. “It was fine. Quiet. I took the weekend off. How was your visit home?”

“Cam,” she said in a low, serious voice. “Don’t avoid the subject I’m tactfully trying to address, okay? Did you talk with him?”

“A little,” Cameron admitted. Although he’d never minded Miri’s curiosity before, now he was uneasy. Julian had been right all those months ago; she was damn nosy.

“And?” she prodded

“Look, I appreciate that you’re concerned,” Cameron said to her in growing annoyance. He’d just gotten comfortable with Julian again. He didn’t need Miri bringing up more tricky questions. “But it’s really not any of your business who he is or what he does.”

Miri narrowed her eyes and looked at him closely. “Did you even ask him who he is?” she asked after a moment of studying him.

“I know who he is,” Cameron said quietly. “He’s my lover, and that’s enough for me.”

Miri sighed and closed her eyes as another waiter brushed past them carrying a large tray. She waited until they were alone once more and stepped closer to Cameron. “Is he married?” she asked worriedly.

“No!” Cameron said. “He’s not married, he’s not closeted, he’s not a crook, and he’s not a danger to me,” he told her, repeating himself diligently.

“He broke his arm that one time and gets all those bruises from dealing antiques?” Miri asked flatly.

“He kickboxes,” Cameron told her, shocking himself with the lie that came so quickly to his lips. “Look, just drop it, okay?” he asked in a pained voice as he threw down his towel in frustration. “I’m happy right now. Can’t you be satisfied with that?”

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She winced and reached out and took his hand gently. “I want you to be happy,” she insisted. “But what sort of relationship can you possibly have if you know nothing about him?” she asked. “He’s the big, bad rich guy, and you’re the poor little waiter he keeps on the side?”

Cameron sighed in exasperation and turned away from her. Every time she questioned him, all his insecurities and worries flooded back, no matter how much he tried to remember Julian’s soft words and reassurances. He stalked toward the employee workroom, knowing without a doubt that Miri would follow him.

She did, hustling after him and talking as she followed. “So far all I’ve seen is that he comes here every week and barely speaks to you, and when he was with people he knew, high-class type people, he
told
you not to speak to him, like he’s embarrassed to be with you,” she rambled. “Plus, you don’t even know how to get in touch with him!

You were at death’s door, you were so sick that one time, and he didn’t even know it!”

“He was out of town—” Cameron began to explain, but what Miri said was true. Julian hadn’t ever offered a phone number, and Cameron knew why, at least vaguely. Julian was trying to protect him. Right?

“He wasn’t out of town when you were sick,” Miri muttered. “He was here, eating dinner with Blake. Another one of his high-class friends.”

Cameron refused to answer until they were in the workroom with the door shut firmly behind them. “That’s not how it is,” he insisted.

His voice was stronger now as he felt a flare of anger. He was angry because, deep down, he wasn’t certain of anything he was defending.

And he was scared. Scared of the secrets. Scared of what might happen.

He wasn’t even sure what else.

He’d seen Julian’s temper. He’d seen Julian’s strength; the quick bursts of speed and power he used to manhandle Cameron. And Cameron didn’t even want to delve into the issue of how used to being in control Julian was. Cameron had never tried to take the reins, but would Julian even allow it if he did? To this point Cameron had never been afraid of Julian. But knowing the little he did now, he had to admit it would be easy to be scared.

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Miri met his eyes worriedly. “I know you’re head over heels, Cam,” she said gently. “But can you really handle him?” she asked doubtfully. “I mean…”

Cameron practically sagged in front of her and leaned back against the wall, distraught. What little Julian had told him about what might happen swirled in his mind. He knew, without a doubt, that Julian would never hurt him physically. But mentally? Emotionally?

“I don’t know,” he whispered with a helpless shrug. “But I’m sure as hell going to try.”

Miri sighed softly and shook her head, the corner of her mouth twitching with a slight smile. “You’re in love,” she announced, as if just discovering the fact. “I’m happy for you, Cam. Just don’t get your heart broken, okay?” she requested softly as she turned to go.

Cameron slowly leaned against the wall as Miri walked away, frustration and helplessness swirling around him. He was certainly in love. And he was afraid, the way he’d been feeling lately, that his heart was breaking anyway.

Nearly ten minutes later, the door opened slightly and Miri stuck her head back in. “It’s Tuesday,” she reminded him softly. “He’s here.”

Cameron shuddered. He couldn’t go out there and face Julian tonight. He couldn’t go out there and look Julian in the eye and be able to tell him that he was okay when he really wasn’t. Julian could see through him like glass. Just last night, he’d been fine. And now…

He tried to pull himself together, rubbing his face with the heels of his hands until his eyes were red from the abuse. He didn’t even notice when someone else entered the workroom a couple of minutes later.

“Cam?”

He looked up to see one of his fellow waiters standing there, looking at him in concern.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked.

Rubbing at his face with his hand again, Cameron shook his head.

“I… I’m just not feeling right,” he stuttered, trying to stall and decide 202

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whether to go out and alert Julian to the problem or just hide back here like a coward. He liked the sound of cowardice tonight.

“You don’t look good. Why don’t you go home? I’ll take care of your tables,” Charles offered.

Cameron nodded slowly, mulling it over. “I think I might just do that,” he croaked. “Thanks, Charles.”

Charles frowned worriedly but nodded, then turned to go, closing the door quietly behind him. Cameron took in a shuddering breath.

He knew if he came back at Julian with yet more worries and insecurities so soon after their last discussion, Julian would be irritated.

More than irritated. He could almost see the exasperation that would be on his lover’s face.

He needed to talk to Julian, but he needed to do it when he had all his ducks in a row. Right now, his ducks were all over the fucking pond.

CAMERON sat in the workroom for longer than he’d intended. He finally realized that if he didn’t do something soon, either Blake or Julian would find him. He left without speaking to anyone, got his jacket, and fled quietly out the service entrance.

It was late, far later than he’d realized, and he was utterly exhausted. He feared it wouldn’t take but one look at Julian to send him into another fit of uncertainty, and he hated that. Cameron knew Julian didn’t like his insecurities, and he wondered how long his lover would be so understanding of them before he got fed up. He rubbed at his eyes as he walked down the street, not really paying much attention to where he was walking.

“Do I scare you?” Julian’s voice asked out of the darkness of the alley Cameron was passing.

That Cameron actually jumped in fright didn’t help. He stood gasping before he could turn and look for Julian in the shadows.

“Julian?” he hissed. “What the hell kind of question is that to ask out of Warrior’s Cross 203

the dark? You just scared the shit out of me. And how’d you even know I was here?” he demanded.

“It’s what I do. Do I scare you when I’m not lurking in alleyways?” Julian posed seriously as he stepped out into the light, not even bothering to apologize.

Cameron swallowed hard. He couldn’t get any words past his lips.

He truly believed it wasn’t Julian that scared him, but the entire situation. The secrecy and the obvious danger. Everything that surrounded the other man. And then there was the question of whether Julian was even one of the “good guys.” But how was Cameron supposed to separate the man from his life?