Warrior's Cross

by Abigail Roux

  Blake frowned. “You want him to be miserable? Or at least, as unhappy as you?”

  Julian shook his head. “I want to want him to be miserable,” he clarified dejectedly. “I just can’t bring myself to do it.”

  Blake would have laughed, but Julian was so obviously hurting he couldn’t find it in himself to see much humor in it. “What happened, Julian? You both seemed… happy.”

  Julian fished a beer out of the cooler and let the lid fall shut, and then he straightened and turned to look at Blake, his eyes full of sadness. “I scared him,” he explained with a helpless shrug. “And he sent me away.”

  Blake slumped a bit at the counter. “I’m sorry, Julian,” he said, knowing full well it wouldn’t help. “I really thought—”

  “So did I,” Julian whispered as he popped the top off the beer and downed a long drink of it.

  “You know, normal people use bottle openers,” Blake pointed out wryly as he looked at the bottle cap Julian had tossed on the counter.

  “I have little use for normal people,” Julian responded coldly as he stared at the countertop, not seeing it.

  Blake sat silently as Julian continued to drink, keeping him company as the night stretched on.

  Tuesdays was about an hour from closing, and filled tables were few and far between. Cameron focused on cleaning up after a party that had stayed late. He stacked plates on his tray and slid glasses carefully onto the rolling cart nearby before glancing out the window.

  Spring was in full swing outside, all signs of snow and ice gone. His mouth quirked. Most people figured that being “up north” meant Chicago had lovely springs and autumns. It did, he supposed, but surrounded by concrete, glass, and asphalt, he figured it might as well be June by now. But once outside when the sun set, a lovely crisp cool would blow in, circulating off the lake, and that seemed to bring the sleepy city back to life.

  As Cameron returned his attention to cleaning the table, a man entered the restaurant and looked around quickly as he unwrapped the thin scarf from his neck. He wore a black pea-coat and his dark hair was unruly from the windy night. He stepped up to Keri at the hostess stand and requested a quiet table.

  “Preferably in one of the alcoves,” he added in a posh British accent.

  Keri led him to a quiet table, leaving the menu and promising quick service. She got Cameron’s attention, and he nodded. He walked back to the service area to wash his hands before heading back out to the table.

  “Good evening, sir. My name is Cameron, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” he offered pleasantly. He rattled off the night’s special and showed the man the other menus. “Would you like some time?” he asked after he was done.

  “No, thank you,” the man answered with a smile as he looked up at Cameron appraisingly. “I’ll take the special and the house wine,” he ordered, relaxed and smiling as he spoke.

  Cameron blinked as the casual phrase struck a nerve. “Of course,” he covered with just the slightest hitch. “I’ll get that order in for you right away,” he assured the man before turning to depart.

  True to his words, Cameron returned within minutes with a fine crystal glass and a bottle of wine that he deftly opened. He poured a bit into the glass for the man to taste and waited, still musing over how one innocent phrase hit him so hard even after all the time that had passed.

  The man tasted the wine and nodded his approval as he set the glass down and looked up at Cameron, measuring him silently.

  “Are Tuesdays always this busy?” he asked finally.

  “Busy?” Cameron picked up the glass to fill it halfway. “Early, usually. This time of night, not so much. If you want to eat earlier in the evenings, we do accept reservations.”

  The man smiled and laughed softly, a surprisingly deep, rich sound. “I always have reservations,” he quipped.

  Cameron frowned a bit and looked at the man directly. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before,” he said apologetically.

  The man looked up at him and snorted in amusement. “That joke must not translate across the pond,” he said with a slight shrug. “No, I’ve only been in here a few times. Mostly private parties or in the bar for a quick bite,” he added.

  Cameron nodded briefly and set down the glass and bottle, though he took another look at the man to be sure. “Enjoy the wine. Your dinner should be out shortly,” he said.

  “Thank you,” the man drawled as he watched Cameron’s movements carefully. “Has Mr. Bailey come in tonight?” he asked casually.

  Cameron stopped and turned back, his thoughts scurrying quickly. Bailey. He had heard that name somewhere before, hadn’t he? He couldn’t place it as a customer, though.

  “I’m sorry. Can you describe him for me?” he asked politely.

  The man looked up at him thoughtfully and then shook his head. “I must have you mistaken for someone else,” he finally concluded in an easy drawl. “Mr. Bailey was well-known to the man I was thinking of. He visited him in hospital a while back.” He narrowed his eyes, and Cameron was struck suddenly by how similar this man’s eyes were to Julian’s. They weren’t even the same color, more a light brown or maybe hazel, but there was the same intelligent, calculating quality to them. “Perhaps you knew him as Julian?” the man said abruptly.

  Cameron’s stomach seemed to drop into his toes, and he prayed that his face didn’t betray his physical reaction. He shook his head slowly. “I do know many of the repeat customers,” he murmured, knowing he was a terrible liar. Cameron figured sticking to the truth was the best, if at all possible, but he didn’t know what to think of this man. There was something slightly… hard-edged and predatory about him. “But I’m afraid neither name rings a bell,” he added in the hope that the lie would go undetected.

  The man looked up at him with a slight smile still on his lips and he nodded. “My mistake,” he offered smoothly. “Suppose I’ll just have to find him another way,” he said almost happily.

  With no verbal acknowledgment required, Cameron turned and walked back to the service area without slowing his pace. When he got out of sight, he leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath.

  Even if the man was looking to find Julian, Cameron couldn’t help him. Not now. He didn’t know how to get in touch with him, and he couldn’t have found the house again if his life depended on it. He sighed, pushing away the sudden, familiar pang of loneliness. He was surprised to find that he was slightly jealous as well. The man sitting out there was looking for his ex-lover, and Cameron knew nothing about him now. He closed his eyes, reminding himself yet again that it was no longer his business to know anything about Julian.

  He delivered the meal not long after, setting it in front of the man with a minimum of fuss. “Please let me know if you need anything,” Cameron told him softly.

  “Oh, I certainly will,” the man murmured in a low drawl, looking up at Cameron and smiling his charming smile.

  Cameron suppressed the tiny flash of warmth he felt at someone—a handsome someone—smiling at him like that, despite how the man’s very presence also bothered him. He had purposely avoided anything resembling a relationship since Julian had walked away. It was the first real attention he’d allowed himself to notice in months. That it didn’t feel quite right spooked him.

  He lifted the tray and folded the stand against his thigh, trying not to glance again at the man.

  “Do you work here every night?” the man asked casually as he spread his napkin in his lap.

  Warning bells went off in Cameron’s head. The last time he’d answered questions like these, it had led him to Julian. And as wonderful as that had been, it had ended very badly. “I work a variable schedule,” he answered. “That’s the restaurant business for you,” he added with a shrug. He stepped back to leave.

  “Yeah, the restaurant business,” the man echoed thoughtfully. “I hear it’s a killer,” he said slowly as he looked up at Cameron with his odd, sparkling eyes.

 
; Cameron slowly looked up at the man and thought that maybe he now knew how other people felt when faced with Julian: intimidated and frightened by the dull grind of uncertainty and fear in his gut. How could someone be so polite and outwardly pleasant, but still cause that feeling? Was this how Julian operated with other people?

  “It can be, sir,” Cameron acknowledged with only the slightest waver in his voice. “Enjoy your meal,” he forced out as he moved away, heading straight for the service area.

  “He’s kinda cute,” one of the waitresses commented to him as soon as he stepped into the back. “Cam, why do you get all the hot, lone guys? Are they all gay?” she asked jokingly.

  Startled, Cameron looked over at her with wide eyes. “Something’s off about him, Sylvia,” he said to her.

  “What do you mean?” Sylvia asked in confusion as Miri stepped up beside Cameron and peered out the window into the dining room.

  Cameron closed his eyes, unable to believe he was saying this. “He kinda scares me.”

  Miri and Sylvia both turned around to look at him incredulously.

  “That guy?” Sylvia asked in disbelief as she looked back through the blinds. “He hasn’t stopped smiling since he got in here!” she protested.

  Cameron nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. He rubbed his arms as if he were cold. “I don’t know,” he muttered.

  “What’d he do?” Miri asked him as she stood on her toes and looked out the window again.

  Cameron tipped his head and mentally arranged what he wanted to say. “He asked about another customer, but I guess that’s not too out of line.”

  “And that scared you?” Miri asked doubtfully.

  “Some of the things he said,” Cameron murmured. He sighed and glanced to Miri. “He asked about Julian.”

  “What?” Miri asked in disbelief. She frowned and turned to look back at the man again. “Maybe he’s… his brother?” she posed hopefully. “Kinda looks like him.”

  Cameron slanted her a sharp look, his jaw set. She shrugged and winced. Cameron rubbed a hand over his eyes. “All right,” he said tiredly. “Go back to work,” he told them with a frown. They both nodded as Sylvia risked one last glance at the man in the dining area. Cameron allowed himself a moment to openly hurt at the mere thought of Julian, and then he forced himself to get back to work as well. About fifteen minutes later, he made his way out with a water pitcher to freshen the man’s glass.

  “I hope your entrée pleased you,” he murmured, having to say something.

  “It was very good,” the man answered in a low voice. He was watching Cameron in a way strikingly similar to how Julian had always followed his movements. There was definitely a predatory hint to it. But while with Julian’s eyes following him Cameron had felt flattered and excited, now he just felt pinned and suffocated.

  “Would you like to have dessert tonight?” Cameron asked after filling the water glass, trying to shake the discomfort.

  The man smiled crookedly. It gave him a slightly rakish, almost mischievous air. “What are my choices?” he asked in a somewhat suggestive tone.

  Cameron’s back stiffened. He knew he wasn’t misreading the man now. “English trifle with caramel, vanilla bean crème brûlée, Dutch chocolate pyramid, or strawberries and cream,” he answered, telling himself to ignore what the man was suggesting.

  The man’s lips twitched in amusement. “Maybe another time,” he decided softly. “I wouldn’t want to keep you any later,” he drawled as he nodded at the huge wrought-iron clock in the entryway of the restaurant.

  His words struck Cameron just as hard as all his other actions had. It was almost the same thing Julian had said to him all those months ago.

  Glancing toward the clock to dispel the feelings, Cameron saw it was almost eleven. Normally he’d have assured a customer that he could stay as long as he liked. But tonight…

  “May I bring you the check?” he asked.

  “Please,” the man answered, his speculative eyes never leaving Cameron.

  Cameron nodded and left, swallowing hard once he was turned away. This man really gave him a bad feeling. He wished he knew why; and he wished, not for the first time, that he could get in touch with Julian. He wanted that feeling of safety and security he’d experienced in Julian’s arms.

  He supposed, if it was a real emergency, he could contact Blake. But Blake was harder to reach than he had been six weeks ago. He didn’t come to the restaurant anymore. He hadn’t been there since the day he’d moved. He merely called occasionally to check in, never talking for more than a minute or two. Cameron had his number, but he felt stupid, going to all that trouble over a diner who was hitting on him.

  Cameron pushed through the service area doors and called up and printed the check, his hands shaking the whole time. He was just being paranoid, he tried to tell himself. He was allowing his experience with Julian to get to him, still suffering from the barely healed wound to his heart. Now Cameron just wanted this man who’d brought up painful memories to go away.

  He walked back to the table silently and set down the leather folder. The man immediately slid a credit card on top of it, his eyes on Cameron, who avoided them. Cameron took the folder and headed over to the bar to run the card and print the signature slip.

  He wasn’t really paying much attention, but when the confirmation flashed across the computer screen, the man’s name caught his eye. Arlo Lancaster.

  Lancaster.

  Cameron swallowed hard. That was the man Miri talked about not too long ago. She’d said Blake warned Julian about him. Now truly upset, Cameron was thankful he’d kept his mouth shut. He’d hurt Julian enough as it was. He didn’t need to be giving out information about him to people he needed to who made him need to “watch his back” as well.

  He nearly crumpled the signature slip, but managed to get it into the folder with his trembling fingers. Cameron wanted—needed—to get this man out of the restaurant and call Blake. He took the leather folder over to the table and set it down along with an ink pen before stepping back to wait, hands clasped tightly behind his back.

  Lancaster signed the slip, leaving a generous tip, one on the level of Julian’s tips. He slid his card back into his wallet and then stood as he replaced his wallet under his jacket. A leather strap was clearly visible under the jacket, as was the hilt of the gun that rested in the holster. He wasn’t a big man, wiry and perhaps the same height as Cameron, but despite his average size Cameron noted Lancaster exuded the same feeling Julian had.

  But Lancaster truly scared him.

  “Thank you for the dinner, Cameron,” he offered as he readjusted his jacket and smiled.

  Cameron went absolutely cold. It was all he could do to manage a polite nod.

  Lancaster either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the effect his words and actions had, and he moved past Cameron as he walked toward the door. Cameron had the very terrifying thought that he had just dodged a bullet.

  Once Lancaster was out the door, Cameron went to the front office, found Blake’s new number, and called him at home.

  “Yes?” Blake answered gruffly on the second ring.

  “It’s Cameron,” Cameron said shakily.

  “What’s wrong?” Blake asked immediately, though his voice was still calm.

  “Arlo Lancaster just had dinner.”

  Blake was silent for a long time, so long that Cameron thought the connection might have dropped. Then Blake cleared his throat. “I’m not going to ask why you felt the need to call me,” he finally said. “Don’t worry about it, Cameron,” he ordered, though his voice was kind. “Just be alert walking home tonight.”

  “Alert?” Cameron asked in surprise. “You mean he—”

  “Don’t leave for another hour. But when you do, go straight home,” Blake said, his tone stern. “And do it quickly when you go. No cabs. Walk like you usually do.”

  Cameron stared at the wall and bit his lip. “Okay,” he said quietly.

  “Good ni
ght, Cameron,” Blake offered gently.

  “Good night, Blake.” Cameron hung up the receiver and looked at it for a long time as his mind raced in circles before leaving the office.

  Cameron left Tuesdays a little after midnight like Blake had instructed. It was amazing how such a short amount of time with Julian had made Cameron so paranoid. Even here in the city, he’d never been truly afraid, and he felt he was usually a confident man. But not now. Not in this situation. He was frightened and growing more so by the minute. He’d never been afraid for himself before now. Only for Julian.

  He walked out of the building into the warm, slightly stuffy air and started walking home, just like he always did. It wasn’t long before the rustle of soft footsteps accompanied his own.