Page 48 of Warrior's Cross

“I’ll be in every couple hours to check on him. He should sleep well into tomorrow.” She gave him another smile and left just as quietly as she’d come.

Julian stood for several more moments before he gently took Cameron’s hand and sank into the chair beside the bed to wait.

The night passed mostly undisturbed, and although the noise around them picked up come morning, the closed door to the room kept most of it out as the sun reached the angle to shine in the window and fall across the blanket that covered Cameron.

Julian slumped in the chair next to the bed, finally having fallen asleep just thirty minutes before sunrise. He jerked awake and sat up as the sun hit him, blinking away the grogginess as he looked around.

When he relaxed and looked back down, Cameron was watching him.

“Hi,” Julian greeted in surprise.

Cameron’s mouth opened just enough that he could moisten his lower lip with his tongue. His reply was barely audible. “Hi.”

“You scared me,” Julian whispered immediately, unable to think of anything else to say.

Cameron’s eyes widened slightly. “Sorry,” he whispered, fingers tightening on the blanket.

Julian reached up and ran his fingers through Cameron’s hair. “Go back to sleep,” he urged softly.

Eyes fluttering, Cameron turned his head just slightly against Julian’s fingers. He pulled in a very slow breath, his lungs still clogged with fluid. “Okay,” he managed in a thread of his normal voice before dropping off quickly.

Julian watched him silently as he felt the minutes ticking by, knowing he needed to leave very soon. Finally, he stood up and turned around to find Preston standing silently in the doorway.

“Your appointment, sir,” the man reminded. Julian nodded.

Cameron slept peacefully, half in the sunshine. He was still pale and very ill, but something about him looked better. Julian watched him longingly for a moment, and then he swept out of the room with Preston at his heels.

Julian rested his head against the damp brick wall behind him and closed his eyes. Preston stood beside him, calmly loading a spare clip as they waited.

“I’m certain you could postpone your appointment until tomorrow, sir,” Preston said softly as the clink of each round snapping into the clip echoed through the early morning.

“We know where he is right now,” Julian argued without opening his eyes. “We won’t tomorrow.”

“We’ll know again soon,” Preston pointed out confidently.

Julian opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to look at his companion. The man’s icy blue eyes were as emotionless asever, but Julian knew him well enough to see a hint of worry in his expression.

“You’re tired,” Preston observed as he pushed the last round into the clip and slid it into his pocket. “Mistakes could be made.”

Julian nodded distractedly. He was thinking more of Cameron lying unconscious in the hospital than about the job at hand. Which was bad, to say the least.

The man they targeted wasn’t atypical, as far as Julian’s targets went. He was crooked and probably skimming off the wrong people.

He’d definitely pissedsomeoneoff. He was nervous and paranoid. He had bodyguards. He had security coming out his ass. He took a different route to work every morning, and he split his nights between four different condos throughout the city.

Julian didn’t know what he did or why he needed to be confronted.

His job today was not to kill the man. They were there to scare him and drive him further into his shell. From the little Julian had observed of him, they were probably going to cause a nervous breakdown. But mental defects as the end result of his work were not his problem.

Whether the man ended up six feet under or in therapy was not his concern unless his orders specifically said to put him there.

“Sir?” Preston prodded gently.

Julian nodded and rubbed his tired eyes, trying to banish the vision of Cameron from them so he could focus on work. “You know the plan?” he asked hoarsely.

“Yes, sir. It’s not a very good one,” Preston observed neutrally.

“We’re taking a few shots at him to scare him. It takes more skill to miss intentionally than it does to hit the target,” Julian reminded.

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