Page 10 of Warrior's Cross

His mind wandered back to the thought that this Julian might be the “escort”—a crazy thought, for sure. But with looks like that, Cameron could imagine the man would command whatever money he wanted. It would explain why he was so well off but had to jump up and run at the ring of a cell phone.

Nose wrinkling, Cameron told himself to quit being silly. He put the check in the folder and headed back out, stopping at several tables along the way before heading toward the window table.

Both Julian and the woman were standing; he was helping her into her coat. She placed her scarf around her neck and gave him an improperly long farewell kiss, then whispered something into his ear as she slid her hand into the pocket of his suit coat and placed something inside it. She practically looked through Cameron as she turned away and walked toward the door. The heads of several men in the restaurant turned to watch her go.

The display didn’t do too much for dispelling Cameron’s little theory, even though he supposed if the woman were paying for sex, Julian would probably have left with her.

Julian waited until she left the restaurant before he returned to his seat, discreetly wiping her lipstick off his lips and cheek with his napkin. He reached into his pocket and extracted a piece of paper. He tilted his head as he read it, shook his head, and tossed it carelessly onto the table.

Cameron waited until he was done to approach with the check. He set the folder at Julian’s elbow before silently picking up the woman’s plate. He resisted the urge—only barely—to make eye contact again.

Or to glance at the slip of paper.

“Would you do me a favor if I asked it of you?” Julian inquired quietly.

Now Cameron couldn’t resist, and any unfounded thoughts about the man’s profession melted into the background, overpowered by the man himself. He turned his chin to look at Julian as he straightened slowly. His answer wasn’t the ready-to-please answer he’d usually give. It was simply, after studying Julian for a few breaths, “Maybe.”

Julian produced a small electronic device, seemingly from nowhere, and he slid it onto the table, his palm on top of it as he looked up at Cameron. “Can you give this to Mr. Nichols after I’m gone?” he asked. “Without anyone seeing you do it?” he added pointedly.

It wasn’t at all what Cameron expected to hear. His eyes flickered from Julian to his hand, flat on the table. Without speaking, he reached to take up Julian’s plate with one hand, set it on top of the woman’s plate already in his hand, and reached again to pick up the linen napkin, dragging the cloth over Julian’s hand. “Let me just get this out of your way.”

Julian watched him as their hands touched, and he nodded, his eyes as unreadable as ever. “Thank you,” he murmured sincerely.

Cameron gathered the item in the napkin, holding it securely.

“You’re welcome,” he offered, looking at Julian directly and enjoying the way it made him feel just to meet the man’s eyes.

Julian reached under his jacket for his wallet and extracted several bills, never looking away. He slid them into the leather folder and offered it before Cameron could even turn away.

Cameron shoved the bunched-up napkin into his pocket and reached to take the folder. He finally dragged his eyes from Julian and noted the heavy falling snow outside the window. “Be careful out there,” he said, knowing he meant more than one thing by it when he walked away.

It was late before Cameron had time to seek out Blake Nichols in his office. The little recorder burned a hole in his pocket all evening, and despite pulling it out and studying it, wondering what it meant, Cameron hadn’t found the nerve to turn it on. He turned the corner, stopped at the office door, and knocked quietly.

“Enter,” Blake called from inside his office.

Cameron opened the door and stepped inside. “Evening, Blake,” he greeted. Blake had threatened him into dropping the “Mr. Nichols” almost six years ago.

Blake looked up from the papers on his desk and smiled widely.

“Good evening, Cameron,” he greeted in the same friendly manner he always did. “What can I do for you? How’s the night going?”

“Really well,” Cameron said, smiling. “I think all three parties went off great, the people were happy... and they drank a lot of wine,” he added with a knowing smile.

“Wonderful,” Blake commented wryly. “The better the tips, right?” he joked as he picked up his pen and tapped it against the papers on his desk. “Was that all?” he asked, still friendly and open but obviously distracted.

Cameron hesitantly slid his hand into his pocket and took the three steps to Blake’s desk. “He asked me to give this to you.” He pulled out the recorder and set it down.

Blake looked down at the recorder, his body suddenly noticeably tense when he glanced back up at Cameron. “He?” he questioned softly without touching the recorder.

Cameron shifted uncomfortably. “Him. Julian.”

One of Blake’s eyebrows edged up, and he looked down at the recorder again. “Did you listen to it?” he asked evenly.

Cameron shook his head, looking at Blake steadily.

Blake hummed thoughtfully and picked up the recorder, turning it over to examine it before pressing the rewind button briefly and then hitting play. Julian’s deceptively soft, deep voice filtered out of the tiny speaker almost immediately:

“I trust you know never to come back here.”

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