Page 100 of Warrior's Cross

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” Lancaster drawled politely as he continued with the pat-down. A little bit of Julian’s professional manner showed in his protégé as Lancaster searched Cameron thoroughly and quickly.

Somewhat relieved by the clinical touches, Cameron nonetheless frowned at the wall. Lancaster stood again and backed away when he was done, giving Cameron a pat on the back to let him know he could relax.

“Lead on,” he ordered as he gestured to the door. Cameron hesitated, but the gun at his back was reason enough to make his feet start moving. When Cameron got to the door, Lancaster murmured,

“Try anything, and the dogs are the first to be shot.”

Cameron shot a look of pure loathing over his shoulder as he opened the door. “You really think he’s still alive?” he asked. “If he was he’d have... contacted me,” he told Lancaster shakily.

“Oh, yeah?” Lancaster responded knowingly. “What makes you say that?”

“He loved me,” Cameron insisted in a rough whisper. “He would have let me know he was alive.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Lancaster drawled with a slow, malicious smirk. “Love is just a word most of the time,” he claimed as he shoved Cameron out into the hall. “If you were one of us, you’d know that already.”

Arlo Lancaster roughly yanked the blindfold off Cameron’s head, and Cameron blinked in the low light, trying to get hiseyes to adjust to his new surroundings. After getting into the back of a van with no windows, Lancaster had tied the piece of cloth over his eyes and trussed him up like a Christmas tree. Then they’d driven for what seemed like forever. Cameron had lost count of the turns and stops. For all he knew, Lancaster had merely driven around the block fifty times and they were still in his neighborhood. Or they could be in Milwaukee.

They were definitely in a large building, though, one with few windows and a lot of dust. It appeared to be a warehouse, long abandoned. And it was cold. Cameron hadn’t been given the option of grabbing his coat, and he was already chilled from riding in the van. It was settling into his bones, making him shiver.

The huge room was full of wooden crates, and the floor was littered with wooden shavings used for packaging. In the back there was an office, illuminated by a weak light. Lancaster shoved at Cameron’s back and started him walking toward it.

As they got closer, Cameron realized that someone else was already in the office. His breath caught painfully in his chest when he met Blake Nichols’ eyes.

Blake growled softly, tugging at the ties that bound him to the metal chair in which he sat, and he glared past Cameron’s shoulder at Lancaster. “I told you,” he said in a rough voice. “Cameron had nothing to do with any of this.”

“Well, he does now,” Lancaster answered cheerfully. He gave Cameron another rough shove between the shoulder blades, pushing him into the office. “You know how to use those?” he asked tauntingly as he nodded at a pile of opaque plastic strips that sat on the chair beside Blake.

“Yeah,” Cameron muttered. “They’re zip ties.”

“Very good,” Lancaster laughed. “Use them,” he ordered.

Cameron bristled. “You want me to zip-tiemyselfto the chair.”

“Yes, darling, and be quick about it, hmm?” Lancaster cooed. “I’m sure we’ll have company soon enough.”

Cameron reluctantly walked over to the chair and picked up the zip ties. “What do you want tied down?” he asked, resentment clear in his voice.

“Ankles to the chair legs, wrists to the arms,” Lancaster ordered seriously. “Be speedy about it.”

Cameron frowned but sat down with a thump and zip-tied his ankles over his jeans. He took another strap and laid it over his left wrist and pulled it closed enough that his hand could move but not pull out of the plastic loop. “Sorry,” he said unrepentantly. “I’m out of hands.”

“Cross’ loss,” Lancaster responded as he walked over and zip-tied Cameron’s other hand, tight enough that it cut into Cameron’s wrist.

“Goddamn it!” Cameron hissed, his fingers going rigid with the pressure.

“Quit whining,” Lancaster huffed as he stood again and backhanded Cameron.

Cameron yelped in pain as his head snapped to the side with the force of the blow. When he looked back, there was a trickle of blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.

“Leave him the fuck alone,” Blake snarled.

“You should have kept Julian away from him,” Lancaster chastised as he moved away.

Blake’s dirt-streaked face reddened slightly, and he looked at Cameron guiltily. “You really think Julian’s still alive?” he asked Lancaster disbelievingly. “You don’t think he’d have shown up by now?” he practically shouted.

“I think neither one of you knew him half as well as you thought you did,” Lancaster answered as he threw himself into an old desk chair, causing it to slide and spin slightly. He pulled out his gun and began idly checking it over.

“He was my best friend,” Blake argued in a pained voice.

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