Warrior's Cross (38 page)

It was only sometimes that he couldn’t handle being alone and had to call a friend for company to get his mind off what he’d lost. That friend was usually Blake, because he knew what Cameron was going through. Julian Cross had been a hard man to find and an even harder man to lose.

Warrior’s Cross 269

THERE was a soft knock on the door, almost drowned out by the noise inside the apartment. The only reason Cameron heard it was because the dogs suddenly careened out of the kitchen toward the door.

With a soft, inquisitive grunt, Cameron set the pork chops he’d pulled out of the fridge in the sink and headed to the door. Out of long habit he looked through the peep-hole first. There was no one in the view, but another soft knock followed as he peered out.

Cameron frowned as he pulled back from the door. He wasn’t sure he liked this. Why wouldn’t someone stand in front of the door?

Sometimes he could be too paranoid, he told himself. The building had security, after all. Shaking his head, he flipped the deadlock and opened the door a bit, standing half behind it.

“Hello, Cameron,” a soft, accented voice greeted from beside the door, its source still out of sight.

A breath caught in Cameron’s throat, and his fingers clenched on the edge of the door. That voice. It was so close to….

How could someone be so cruel? Anger flaring, Cameron threw the door open so hard it slammed against the wall as he stepped out into the hall to see who was deliberately yanking his chain. “Who the hell do you think…?”

Arlo Lancaster leaned against the wall next to the door, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pea-coat as he watched Cameron with dark eyes. He had an ugly scar along his left eye; it had to be the shot Julian had taken that he’d hoped killed him. He smiled wickedly when he met Cameron’s eyes.

Fear made Cameron go cold all over. This was a nightmare he’d tried very hard not to think about. He couldn’t even manage to protest when Arlo ushered him back inside his apartment.

“You’ve changed things since the last time I was here,” Lancaster murmured from behind him as he closed the door.

That statement chilled Cameron to the bone all over again, and he was sure it showed, because he could feel the blood drain from his face.

He shifted uncomfortably and took a few wooden steps away from the other man. “New paint,” he said as his mind started scrambling. What 270

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was he supposed to do? There was no one to help him, and no one to miss him for at least two days, when he was supposed to show up at Tuesdays for dinner with Blake.

Lancaster nodded and grinned. “Where is he?” he asked politely.

Cameron’s mouth went dry and pain shot through him like lightning. “He’s dead,” he answered in a choked voice.

Lancaster’s lips curved into a slight, almost fond smile as he nodded his head thoughtfully. “Hasn’t contacted you after all, has he?”

he murmured almost to himself. “Good thing I have a Plan B,” he told Cameron with a wry grin. “I’ll take you with me, anyway. My bet is he was just done with you, but you know. Can’t be too careful. Would you care to put food out for the animals before we go?” he offered in amusement. “You may be gone quite a while,” he added dryly.

Cameron’s stomach twisted. “What for?” he asked. As he started thinking about it, the hair on the back of his neck prickled. Could Julian really be alive?

Lancaster’s smile melted away, leaving him looking hard and dangerous, even more so when a gun appeared in his hand. “I don’t care if your animals starve,” he snarled. “Move.”

Cameron nodded slowly, clenching his hands when they started to shake. “The food’s in the kitchen,” he said, gesturing slightly before he started moving, watching Lancaster. “Should I pack a bag?” he asked as he poured out extra food and water.

Lancaster gave a derogatory laugh. “We’ll buy you a toothbrush,”

he drawled as he kept the silenced gun trained on Cameron. “Now assume the position, my friend,” he ordered with a wave of his free hand at the nearest wall.

Cameron’s shoulders snapped back. “Excuse me?”

“Hands flat on the wall, feet apart,” Lancaster barked impatiently.

“Get moving, Jacobs.”

Keeping his eyes on the gun, Cameron moved as instructed, though his chin stayed turned to watch Lancaster as his palms settled against the wall, and he widened his stance carefully.

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Lancaster placed his gun in the back of his waistband and moved behind Cameron. “Move and I’ll snap your neck,” he assured Cameron as he put his hand on the back of Cameron’s head and pushed it to lower it. He began to slide his hands down the sides of Cameron’s body, then one palm moved to his chest and the other to his spine as he patted him down.

Letting his head fall forward, Cameron kept his back rigid, eyes closing as he realized what Lancaster was doing.

“Hiding anything?” Lancaster asked him in a sarcastic, teasing tone.

Cameron grimaced. He almost wished he was. “No,” he answered truthfully.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Lancaster drawled politely as he continued with the pat-down. A little bit of Julian’s professional manner showed in his protégé as Lancaster searched Cameron thoroughly and quickly.

Somewhat relieved by the clinical touches, Cameron nonetheless frowned at the wall. Lancaster stood again and backed away when he was done, giving Cameron a pat on the back to let him know he could relax.

“Lead on,” he ordered as he gestured to the door. Cameron hesitated, but the gun at his back was reason enough to make his feet start moving. When Cameron got to the door, Lancaster murmured,

“Try anything, and the dogs are the first to be shot.”

Cameron shot a look of pure loathing over his shoulder as he opened the door. “You really think he’s still alive?” he asked. “If he was he’d have… contacted me,” he told Lancaster shakily.

“Oh, yeah?” Lancaster responded knowingly. “What makes you say that?”

“He loved me,” Cameron insisted in a rough whisper. “He would have let me know he was alive.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lancaster drawled with a slow, malicious smirk. “Love is just a word most of the time,” he claimed as he shoved 272

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Cameron out into the hall. “If you were one of us, you’d know that already.”

ARLO LANCASTER roughly yanked the blindfold off Cameron’s head, and Cameron blinked in the low light, trying to get his eyes to adjust to his new surroundings. After getting into the back of a van with no windows, Lancaster had tied the piece of cloth over his eyes and trussed him up like a Christmas tree. Then they’d driven for what seemed like forever. Cameron had lost count of the turns and stops. For all he knew, Lancaster had merely driven around the block fifty times and they were still in his neighborhood. Or they could be in Milwaukee.

They were definitely in a large building, though, one with few windows and a lot of dust. It appeared to be a warehouse, long abandoned. And it was cold. Cameron hadn’t been given the option of grabbing his coat, and he was already chilled from riding in the van. It was settling into his bones, making him shiver.

The huge room was full of wooden crates, and the floor was littered with wooden shavings used for packaging. In the back there was an office, illuminated by a weak light. Lancaster shoved at Cameron’s back and started him walking toward it.

As they got closer, Cameron realized that someone else was already in the office. His breath caught painfully in his chest when he met Blake Nichols’ eyes.

Blake growled softly, tugging at the ties that bound him to the metal chair in which he sat, and he glared past Cameron’s shoulder at Lancaster. “I told you,” he said in a rough voice. “Cameron had nothing to do with any of this.”

“Well, he does now,” Lancaster answered cheerfully. He gave Cameron another rough shove between the shoulder blades, pushing him into the office. “You know how to use those?” he asked tauntingly as he nodded at a pile of opaque plastic strips that sat on the chair beside Blake.

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“Yeah,” Cameron muttered. “They’re zip ties.”

“Very good,” Lancaster laughed. “Use them,” he ordered.

Cameron bristled. “You want me to zip-tie
myself
to the chair.”

“Yes, darling, and be quick about it, hmm?” Lancaster cooed. “I’m sure we’ll have company soon enough.”

Cameron reluctantly walked over to the chair and picked up the zip ties. “What do you want tied down?” he asked, resentment clear in his voice.

“Ankles to the chair legs, wrists to the arms,” Lancaster ordered seriously. “Be speedy about it.”

Cameron frowned but sat down with a thump and zip-tied his ankles over his jeans. He took another strap and laid it over his left wrist and pulled it closed enough that his hand could move but not pull out of the plastic loop. “Sorry,” he said unrepentantly. “I’m out of hands.”

“Cross’ loss,” Lancaster responded as he walked over and zip-tied Cameron’s other hand, tight enough that it cut into Cameron’s wrist.

“Goddammit!” Cameron hissed, his fingers going rigid with the pressure.

“Quit whining,” Lancaster huffed as he stood again and backhanded Cameron.

Cameron yelped in pain as his head snapped to the side with the force of the blow. When he looked back, there was a trickle of blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.

“Leave him the fuck alone,” Blake snarled.

“You should have kept Julian away from him,” Lancaster chastised as he moved away.

Blake’s dirt-streaked face reddened slightly, and he looked at Cameron guiltily. “You really think Julian’s still alive?” he asked Lancaster disbelievingly. “You don’t think he’d have shown up by now?” he practically shouted.

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“I think neither one of you knew him half as well as you thought you did,” Lancaster answered as he threw himself into an old desk chair, causing it to slide and spin slightly. He pulled out his gun and began idly checking it over.

“He was my best friend,” Blake argued in a pained voice.

“Yeah?” Lancaster asked tauntingly. “Mine too,” he responded coldly as the smile on his face dropped suddenly. He stood and began pacing back and forth slowly. “You even know his real name?” he challenged. “Where he’s really from? Hmm?”

Blake swallowed with difficulty and glanced at Cameron, and then he lowered his eyes instead of answering. Finally, he just shook his head.

“Yeah,” Lancaster agreed. “No one does, Nichols. No one but Preston. And no one else will,” he claimed simply. “When I met him, he was living in London, and he was speaking German with a perfect accent,” he told them in amusement. “Finally, he came out with this random Irish one day and told me he was tired. The only person he’ll ever really give a damn about is Preston. Remember that.”

He stopped suddenly and cocked his head at Cameron, then lurched out of his chair and took an alarmingly quick couple of steps and bent closer, grabbing at the necklace around Cameron’s neck.

Cameron’s eyes widened in fear as he felt the yank on the chain around his neck. “No. Don’t….”

Lancaster looked up at him as he held the trinket in the palm of his hand, his dark eyes masked by the low light. He gave the chain a yank and snapped the clasp.

“Dammit!” Cameron hissed as the chain cut into his neck painfully, and then the comforting weight of the pendant was gone and in Lancaster’s hand. Cameron stared at it. He’d not taken it off, not once. Ever. Even after he’d pushed Julian away. Even after he’d watched them bury him.

Lancaster straightened and took a few steps away, closer to the light, as he looked at the pendant. He looked up at him again, anger Warrior’s Cross 275

flaring in his eyes as he clenched it in his fist. “Do you have any idea what this is?” he asked with a snarl.

Cameron flinched and stared at Lancaster’s hand. His eyes darted up to face the anger in the other man’s eyes. He didn’t understand it, but it frightened him more than any emotion Julian had ever displayed.

“Julian gave it to me,” he answered in a whisper.

“No shit,” Lancaster snapped as he took the pendant and held his hand up as if he wanted to throw it out the door into the empty warehouse. The emotions warred briefly on his face, but in the end he couldn’t do it like he so obviously wanted to. Instead, he looked back down at it and then tossed it into Cameron’s lap disgustedly as he turned away.

Letting out a shaky breath, Cameron looked down at the necklace that lay draped precariously over his thigh. Without thinking he strained to reach it with one hand, but there was no way to touch it. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down.

“What the hell did Jules see in someone like you?” Lancaster wondered quietly to himself as he walked away, looking out at the quiet warehouse with a shake of his head.

Cameron pulled up his head to watch the other man, who had no way of knowing Cameron still asked himself the same question, even now after Julian had been gone for so long.

“What is it?” he asked thickly, looking back down at the necklace.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, not from Lancaster. But to this point he’d thought it meant something only to Julian.

Lancaster turned slightly and looked back at him with obvious contempt. He looked away again, as if answering the question while looking at Cameron was just too much for him. “The stone is to be given from one warrior to another,” he answered bitterly. “It’s called a warrior’s cross. Symbolizes the fucking bond between us, and the cross we all have to bear for being what we are.”

Cameron’s brow wrinkled. He wasn’t a warrior. Not even close.

“He said it was worn for protection,” he objected.

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“Yeah?” Lancaster asked through gritted teeth. “That’s what I told him when I gave it to him.”

Cameron’s head snapped up and he stared at Lancaster in disbelief.

Lancaster stood with his back to Cameron, staring out over the darkened warehouse.

“Now I won’t feel too guilty killing the bastard,” he murmured.