Page 3 of Warrior's Cross

And more importantly, why was he doing it? What was different about tonight? It was obvious that no one would be joining him, so who was the glass for? With a quiet sigh, Cameron shrugged off the questions and headed to the kitchen to check on the special.

It was about ten minutes after leaving him that Cameron arrived back at the table with the tray, setting it on a stand and serving, trying not to let his eyes settle on the man despite the urge to study him up close again.

As Cameron placed the plate in front of him, the man’s suit coat emitted a discreet dinging sound. He reached into his inner pocket and withdrew a cell phone, looked at the display briefly, and then looked up at Cameron.

“Could you bring the check, please?” he requested with a sigh of what might have been annoyance. It was, perhaps, the first hint of emotion he’d ever displayed to Cameron.

Cameron raised an eyebrow and nodded. “I can box this for you,” he offered.

“No, thank you,” the man responded as he replaced his phone. “Just the check. Quickly, please.”

“Yes, sir,” Cameron said, gathering the empty tray and leaving the dining room to fetch the requested item. He was back with it in only a few minutes, and he offered the black leather folder silently.

The glass across the table from the dark man sat undisturbed, a third full. His own glass was empty, and his food only slightly touched. He had obviously eaten what he could as he waited. He took the check with a nod.

Cameron stepped back to wait so he could complete the transaction as quickly as possible. He watched silently as the man reached into his suit jacket and removed a leather billfold. He withdrew three bills, slid them into the folder, and handed it back to Cameron.

“I won’t be needing any change,” he said. Cameron could barely hear his voice even though the background noise was slight. “Thank you for the advice,” the man said as he stood and reached for his overcoat.

Cameron had never been this close to him when he was on his feet.

He guessed the man was taller by at least four inches, perhaps even more. As he shrugged into his heavy overcoat, the black wool had the effect of making him appear even larger than he already was, and the overall impression was that he simply towered over Cameron.

Confused and slightly distracted by his physical presence, Cameron just nodded. He had no idea what advice he may have given the man, but he wasn’t about to question him. He actually had to tip his head back a little to look up at him. “Have a good night,” he offered.

His voice was flustered.

The man gathered his belongings. He nodded at Cameron as he buttoned his overcoat. “Tuesdays are always good nights,” he murmured.

Cameron tipped his head to one side, even more confused, but he knew better than to say anything else. He wasn’t sure his tongue could actually form any more words anyway.

With a last nod, the man walked away from the table and Cameron, who watched until he was out the door.

Out of sorts, Cameron shook his head and cleared the table, the folder securely at the small of his back. Once he finishedwith the dishes, he went to settle the receipt and found three hundred dollars.

One hundred would have covered the dinner, wine, and a pleasant tip.

Cameron stood there looking at the money, wondering just what had happened tonight.

Cameron spoke pleasantly with an older couple that dined at Tuesdays a few times a month before turning to head out of the dining room. The dinner crowd had thinned to almost nothing around nine, and business had slowed accordingly. Although the restaurant stayed open until midnight, Cameron knew it wouldn’t pick up again. He had time now to work on his receipts. But that just meant he had time to think, as well.

It was Tuesday night, and he kept thinking about the Tuesday night two weeks ago that had rocked his world. He’d gone over it in his mind, closing his eyes to hear the dark rasp of the man’s voice. When he hadn’t come to dinner last week, breaking a months-long streak, Cameron was terribly disappointed.

He still wondered what had happened to the mysterious patron and if he would see him again. All Cameron knew for sure was that he would’ve liked to have heard his voice again.

Now it seemed another Tuesday had passed without him.

Him. He of the tall, dark, and handsome variety, who stuck in Cameron’s head like some sort of brooding fantasy. Cameron sighed.

Fantasy. A man like that was certainly nothing but a fantasy to Cameron, someone who was too far out of his league in every way.

As he pondered, he heard Keri greet a new guest, followed instantly by the distinct voice of Blake Nichols, the owner ofTuesdays, greeting the same person warmly. When Cameron moved to peer through the fronds of the large plant next to him, he saw Blake shaking the guest’s hand and directing Keri to lead him to an alcove table.

It took Cameron a long moment to actually realize who he was seeing. It washim.

Cameron stared for a long moment, unable to make himself move as his heart rate picked up. After a few frozen moments, he shook himself, entered the prep area, and picked up a bottle of house wine and a clean glass before moving to the table.

As he got closer, he could see that the man wasn’t quite himself tonight. There was a tight line of stitches above his left eye and his right arm was in a sling. He was carefully shrugging out of the restrictive brace when Cameron approached the table.

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