Page 104 of Warrior's Cross

The strength of Julian’s injured arms began to give out, and Lancaster pressed down on him, turning the gun slowly toward his forehead. Julian gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to find the strength to fight back.

“Help him!” Blake shouted as he struggled to cut through the last zip tie.

Cameron looked desperately around the office for something, anything, to use as a weapon. Before he could move, though, Lancaster grunted in pain and went rolling off Julian’s body, landing spread-eagled on his back beside Julian on the cold concrete. Cameron had no idea what had happened, and from the stunned look on Julian’s face as he lay on the ground, he wasn’t quite sure, either.

Lancaster rolled to his knees, doubled up and obviously hurt. He grunted as he stared out the door of the office, and as he crouched and held his hand to his shoulder, the filing cabinet near Lancaster’s head burst open with a crash and rattle as the silenced round hit.

A hail of bullets followed, the silenced pops making little sound in the cavernous warehouse, but the sound of the barrage in the office bounced off the corrugated tin of the roof and walls and rang in Cameron’s ears. His instinctive reaction was to duck and cover his head as he stumbled a few steps away into the corner of the room. Lancaster ducked as well, and Blake tackled Cameron to the ground and shielded him as the room exploded around them.

When the assault ended, no one in the ruined office moved.

An eerie silence fell in the warehouse, and when Blake finally raised his head to allow Cameron to look around, dust and bits of shredded paper and cardboard were just beginning to settle.

The adrenaline began to leak away as Cameron stared, and the cold seeped in again. He started shaking as Blake helped him off the ground, and they surveyed the damage together.

Lancaster lay on his back, bleeding and staring at the ceiling unblinkingly. Preston stood in the doorway, calmly reloading what appeared to be a high-powered rifle with a scope. Julian lay at his feet, still covering his head and curled protectively as bits of shredded newspaper floated down around him.

“You could have given me a better shot, sir,” Preston told Julian calmly.

“Sorry,” Julian groaned weakly as he uncovered his head and let his arms fall to his chest. “Is he dead?” he asked with a hint of dread in his voice.

Cameron’s eyes tracked to Lancaster’s body, and his eyes widened. Lancaster certainly looked dead. Cameron looked back at Preston just in time to see the man cock his head and heft the rifle off his shoulder, pointing it at Lancaster with one hand. Then he pulled the trigger, letting off a short burst of silenced rounds. Lancaster’s lifeless body jumped as the bullets hit home, and Cameron jumped as well with a torn gasp.

“He is now,” Preston answered succinctly as he re-shouldered the rifle and smiled.

“Thank you for being thorough,” Julian grunted as he rolled onto his side and clutched at his ribs.

“As ever, sir,” Preston responded politely before setting the rifle against the doorframe and kneeling next to Julian. He gripped the knife handle that stuck out of Julian’s side and gave it a wicked yank.

Julian cursed weakly and lowered his head as Preston stuffed a handkerchief under the vest to stop the bleeding. Preston stood once more, turning to look at Blake and Cameron and nodding at them as if greeting someone in the park. He thenturned his attention to the cage in the corner, where Smith and Wesson were making a cacophony of horrible sounds.

“Jesus Christ!” Blake breathed in horror as he stood. “Preston, what the hell?”

“There comes a time in this job where being honorable has no place,” Preston announced as he carefully stepped over the debris on the floor. “That’s why he needs me,” he told them with an evil smirk as he stepped over Julian toward the cage.

Blake stared at both men for a long moment and then moved to help Julian to his feet. As soon as Julian was standing, Blake grabbed him by the shoulders to look at him. “You son of a bitch,” he snapped, and then he swung at him, sending him reeling backward through the darkened doorway. “I’ll kill you myself!” Blake shouted as he grabbed at Julian’s black shirt and made to hit him again.

“No! Blake!” Cameron cried out in surprise. Hadn’t they had enough violence for one night?

Julian wasn’t even able to put up a hand to defend himself. He weaved dangerously and collapsed backward. Blake stopped his swing, moving to catch the bigger man as he fell.

“Damn it,” Blake muttered as he lowered Julian’s unconscious body to the ground. “How does he always manage to avoid the second hit?” he asked Preston in annoyance.

“Loss of blood, sir,” Preston answered calmly as he released Smith and Wesson from their cage.

Blake and Preston got Julian sitting on the bed so they could carefully remove his boots. The hospital had given him scrubs to wear home, draping a couple blankets over his shoulders to keep him warm as he moved from hospital to vehicle and vehicle to apartment. His chest was otherwise bare, due to the bulkysling on his arm and the bandages wrapped high around his ribs to cover the wound on the opposite side. His arm was broken, but it wasn’t a bad break. The bullet that had hit him had gone through the meat of his upper arm; it was painful, but it wasn’t a bad wound either.

The stab wound in his side had been the real worry. He had lost a lot of blood, and the knife had done damage not only to the soft tissue, but to the ribs as well. He was just lucky the blade had missed his lungs. It hurt him to breathe and move, but he would certainly live.

Cameron had come out of the terrifying evening with a wide assortment of bruises, a split lip, lacerations on the wrist that was attached to the chair while he struggled to reach the knife, and a real after-the-fact nervous breakdown.

But now he was mostly calm and numb, having cried himself out at the hospital and finally getting somewhat warm. He watched Julian as the other men stepped back, and he tried to resist the urge to step closer. Instead he just stood back and watched as Julian stared blankly.

The other man had half-drowsed, half-stared on the way home from the hospital. Possibly shock, the doctor had said. Definitely morphine.

He’d yet to say a word to any of them or even look at Cameron.

“I’m going to get the stuff from the hospital,” Blake said quietly, and he left the room. He was still angry, Cameron could tell. He had been moving and speaking gently ever since hitting Julian at the warehouse, trying not to display any more of the anger, but the restraint merely served to make it more obvious.

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