Page 79 of Warrior's Cross

Julian turned his chin slightly to glare at the man. “You jump from a fucking twenty-foot brick wall and see how daintily you land,” he challenged. “And stop calling me sir, goddamn it,” he added crankily.

He tried to stand from the counter stool, but the unwieldy walking boot on his newly broken left foot got caught in the bottom rung, and he had to kick at the stool and curse before he was free.

Neither Preston nor Blake laughed as he struggled. They knew better.

“When is your fucking help getting here?” Julian demanded as he thumped away from the center island and looked out the large bay window of the breakfast room.

“He’s cranky, is he?” Blake asked Preston in a low voice.

Julian turned in time to see Preston merely raise one eyebrow and take another conveniently timed sip of coffee.

Blake’s smile faded as he glanced at Julian and met his eyes.

Julian knew the man well enough to know that he wasn’t as cheerful or as cheeky as he seemed this morning. They were preparing to uproot his entire life. It was a heavy day in more ways than one.

Julian sighed softly and reminded himself to go easy on his friend.

It wasn’t going to be fun.

“I have a list of addresses,” Blake told them as he pushed a piece of paper across the counter and slid it in front of Preston. “You can take my Escalade. Less trips,” he added as he placed the keys next to the paper.

“Yes, sir,” Preston acknowledged with a nod as he glanced over the list and then folded it into his pocket. He looked over to Julian as he stood, then back at Blake before turning and heading toward the foyer.

Julian frowned, wondering what the odd look had been for. He shrugged it off, though. “Where are we starting?” he asked Blake softly.

“Bottom floor, I guess,” Blake answered with a sigh. “We need to find creative places to hide shit. Just in case.”

Julian nodded and cleared his throat. “You may want to get dressed first,” he reminded as he turned back around and looked out at the misty morning.

The buzzer rang at almost exactly the time Blake warned Cameron it would. He shoved his wallet into his jeans and grabbed his keys, and then he was out the door, leaving behind forlorn yips and yaps as he hurried down the stairs.

He stopped still at the glass door when he saw Preston outside, surprised and confused to see the man. He pushed through the door.

“Preston?”

“Good morning, sir,” Preston greeted as he stepped slightly to the side and waved his hand at the huge black SUV parked at the curb.

Cameron glanced to the truck and saw Charles wave at him from the back. He shot another look at Preston. If Julian’s driver was going to be at Blake’s, that meant—

“We have several more stops to make, sir,” Preston said to him pointedly. He walked swiftly to the back door of the Escalade and opened it for him.

Swallowing hard, Cameron shoved his hands in his pockets and followed, climbing into the truck with no comment, instead nodding to the others Preston had already picked up, all of whom were in various stages of wakefulness. When Preston closed the door, it echoed in Cameron’s ears. He closed his eyes.

He had a sudden feeling that today was going to very uncomfortable.

The rest of the ride to pick up the other volunteers and take them to Blake’s house was a quiet, unsettling one, but Blake was waiting on the great stone steps of his home to greet them when the car pulled up in his driveway.

“Good morning!” he called cheerfully. “I have coffee and breakfast of sorts in the kitchen,” he offered as he shook each of their hands in turn. “Morning, Cam,” he said with a smile as he took Cameron’s hand. “Thank you for coming.”

Cameron nodded slowly and studied Blake. It occurred to him that Blake might not know he and Julian had broken it off. Surely if he’d known, and if Julian really was here, Blake wouldn’t have put Cameron in this situation. Right? He offeredhalf a smile and followed the rest inside. His stomach was already churning.

As they walked through the house, it became obvious that a little work had already been done. There were bare spots on the walls where paintings had hung, shelves where knickknacks might once have sat.

The formal rooms near the front of the home looked as if a herd of elephants had tried to play chess with the furniture, but nothing appeared to have been moved out of any of them yet.

As they neared the kitchen, a repetitive banging echoed in an adjoining room. As Blake passed by he began to snicker, and he stood at the doorway to the kitchen and ushered everyone by while looking past them toward the noise.

“Come eat breakfast, Jules. Those things can wait,” he called out.

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