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“May those who love us love us,” Lancaster said suddenly as he held up his wine. “And those that don’t love us, may God turn their hearts. And if He doesn’t turn their hearts, may He turn their ankles, so we’ll know them by their limping.”
Julian pursed his lips, leaning forward slowly and finally resting his elbows on the table as he looked across at the other man. His dinner companion leaned forward to meet him with relish.
“You really think this is how it works?” Julian asked in a low, dangerous voice. The Irish accent sent a shiver through Cameron’s body, and he couldn’t help but stare at Julian, wondering how many other things he had never known about the man. “You think you can come into my city without retribution?” Julian continued. “You think you’ll make it to dessert?” he practically snarled.
Lancaster’s smile vanished, and he gave one quick nod of his head.
“You should have thought of that before you taught me everything you knew,” he murmured in a voice to match. “The special?” he asked in a completely different tone as he sat back. He nodded again. “We’ll both have the special,” he told Cameron with a smug, satisfied smile.
Cameron’s eyes bounced back and forth between them, and he could only nod jerkily. “The salad will be out shortly,” he said. It came out weak to his ears. He collected the menus and turned away. As he did so, he saw Julian raise his own wine-glass and hold it up to Lancaster. “To your limp, Arlo,” he said solemnly.
Behind him, a small clank and a grunt of pain signified that one of the men he’d left behind had just kicked the other under the table.
If he hadn’t been so terrified, Cameron might have laughed.
“WHY are you here?” Julian asked through gritted teeth.
“Because your time has run out,” Arlo answered bluntly. “You’ve been doing the wrong work for the wrong people, mate. Informing for the police? Sound familiar?” he asked cheekily.
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“We all do what we have to,” Julian responded in a low voice.
Arlo knew more than even Julian had suspected he would.
“But you didn’t have to, Jules,” Arlo argued, the smile still on his face. “You don’t need the money. You don’t even need the work anymore. The only reason you still do it is because you enjoy it,” he accused knowingly.
Julian gritted his teeth harder and lowered his head slightly, refusing to look away.
“You enjoy the stalking. The fear. You enjoy the killing, and you always will. You’re not one of the fucking good guys, so why try to tell yourself you are?”
Julian sat back slightly, taking in a deep breath. The hell of it was that Arlo was right. He enjoyed what he did. He was good at it and always had been. He had, in the end, been given a choice. Remain one of the bad guys or be loved. And he had walked away from love. He’d chosen to be a killer rather than to be with Cameron.
“Were you behind the big fucking dog?” he finally asked Arlo.
Arlo actually laughed. “No,” he answered with a gleeful shake of his head. “But I heard about it.” He practically giggled. “Juvenile, but still slightly brilliant.”
Julian sighed and took a long sip of wine.
“If I don’t take you, someone else will,” Arlo told him, suddenly serious again. “It’s just a matter of time.”
Julian met his eyes and nodded. “Someone else,” he repeated grimly. “The man who hired you. Tell me who he is,” he demanded.
“You know I can get to him. You won’t have to do this.”
Arlo responded with a slow, wicked grin. “What makes you think I don’t want to?” he asked.
TWENTY minutes after taking their orders, Cameron arrived at the table with the two entrées. The mood at the table had gone steadily Warrior’s Cross 249
downhill, but somehow it helped Cameron maintain his distance. It was like a husband and wife squabbling. He wouldn’t get involved then, and he wouldn’t get involved now. But he still had to listen.
He lifted the two covered plates and approached the table. When he set the dinners in front of them, Lancaster gave it a sniff and quirked an eyebrow. “What is this, exactly?” he asked Julian.
“Shut up and enjoy it,” Julian snarled.
Lancaster looked from him to Cameron. “What is this?”
Cameron blinked at him for a moment before answering.
“Snapping turtle soufflé and Southern red-eye gravy with pommes frites.”
“Jesus Christ, Jules,” Lancaster groaned as he sat back and glared.
“You want to go into tonight with nothing but a few hundred dollars of wine in you, be my fucking guest,” Julian muttered.
“I can get you another entrée,” Cameron felt compelled to offer.
Lancaster was watching as Julian started to eat, and he wrinkled his nose distastefully. “This is fine,” he muttered. “Thank you,” he gritted out.
“This was always your problem, you know that?” Julian said to him heatedly as he dropped his fork onto his plate with a clatter.
Cameron had rarely seen this level of emotion from him, especially in public. “You were all show and no real substance. You never fucking did your research.”
“I found you, didn’t I?” Lancaster shot back.
Cameron withdrew without his usual reminder to flag him down if they needed anything. No way was he interfering in that conversation.
“Eat your fucking dinner,” he heard Julian snarl again as he left.
It would have been comical if Julian hadn’t sounded so furious.
Cameron tended to his other tables and kept an eye on that one, just in case violence erupted. He didn’t think it would—he thought Julian had nearly limitless control—but tonight it seemed like Julian’s anger bordered on rage.
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When Cameron glanced back several minutes later, he saw Lancaster upend the wine bottle over his glass and shake it. He dreaded going back to the table, but he knew he had no choice.
“More wine?” he asked quietly as he stepped up beside the table.
Both men answered at the same time, Julian with a resounding
“No” and Lancaster with a cheerful “Please!”
The waiter raised a doubtful eyebrow, suddenly seeing the morbid humor of the situation. It wasn’t at all funny. These two men were at each other’s throats, but there was an element to it that made him want to laugh hysterically. “How about I take your plates while you decide?”
he offered tentatively.
Julian sat back and crossed his arms over his chest, watching Lancaster through narrowed eyes. Lancaster mirrored him and cocked his head to the side. “Dessert?” he asked with a smirk.
“Go fuck yourself,” Julian answered calmly.
Cameron had no idea what to say and wished he could just walk away. Instead he started picking up both plates and soufflé ramekins.
Lancaster glanced up at him and narrowed his eyes. “You’re the bloke who claimed he didn’t know Julian,” he said. “‘Never heard of him’. Funny that, because my sources told me you two were a bit of a thing,” he continued as he leaned more across the table toward Julian and grinned. “That research thing again,” he mused with a shake of his head.
Cameron couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Julian. He willed Julian to believe that he hadn’t told Lancaster anything. God, if Julian thought he’d betrayed him on top of everything else…
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Cameron managed to get out.
“Yeah, I can tell,” Lancaster laughed wryly. “Don’t worry about it, mate,” he sighed as Julian remained tense and silent. “He doesn’t really care what you do anymore,” he announced as he met Julian’s eyes.
“I’ve been stalking you for weeks, and Jules here hasn’t said word one about it. You’ve got new things going, don’t you, Jules?” he asked maliciously. “No need to bother with the cast-offs.”
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Cameron flinched before he could stop himself. Julian, stone-faced as ever, glared at Lancaster without ever bothering to look at Cameron.
“Come on, Jules,” Lancaster invited, still smiling the same charming, almost boyish smile even though his eyes glinted dangerously. “Tell him about it. Tell him about what and who you were doing. Why you never saw him on Sundays and Thursdays. Where you went on Saturday nights after you left him.”
“We’ll take the check,” Julian responded through gritted teeth.
Cameron fled immediately. Once he made it to the service area, he set down the dishes with a clatter and leaned against the counter, shaking and biting his lip hard, trying not to let the tears that threatened loose.
Miri came over and took his arm. “Cam? What do you want us to do?”
He forced himself to straighten and rub his eyes while he took several deep breaths. “You’re staying here, and I’m delivering this check. And hopefully, they’re leaving Tuesdays and not coming back.”
Inside, Cameron was a mess. He’d trusted that there hadn’t been any others while Julian was with him, and he still believed that, perhaps naïvely so. The man was just trying to get a reaction from him. But he didn’t want to think about who might have come
after
him. A man like Julian could have anything and anyone he wanted. And that, more than anything, was what hurt. That after he’d driven Julian away, he could have been so easily replaced.
Trying to shore up what courage he had left, Cameron collected the ticket, slid it into a leather folder, and went to get rid of them. He needed them gone so he could go find somewhere to fall apart again, worrying about the man he’d given up the right to love.
When Cameron returned to his customers, Lancaster was still leaning over the table, looking at Julian intently. “So,” he was saying in a low voice, “who gets to leave first, eh? Do you want the advantage of time, possibility of losing me and running back to that hidden fortress of yours? Or would you rather I go first, give you the rush of wondering if there’s an ambush waiting?” he asked with relish. “So many ways to die tonight,” he mused almost serenely.
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“You shouldn’t enjoy what you do too much,” Julian advised. “It makes you stupid.”
Lancaster threw his head back and laughed.
Cameron slid the leather folder onto the table, collected the other plates and flatware, and stepped away from the table, trying his best to keep his eyes off both men and avoid their attention as he placed the dishes on a waiting tray.
Lancaster sat back and put his hands behind his head, watching Cameron in amusement. “I’ll go first then,” he decided after a moment, still looking at Cameron speculatively. “You’ll want to say goodbye, after all,” he said as he stood and buttoned his suit jacket. He smirked down at Julian, who sat unmoving, watching him. “This was fun,” he announced. “I’ll let word get around,” he promised in a lower voice, leaning over Julian and placing a hand on his shoulder as he spoke into his ear. “They’ll know you were man enough to pay for your own last meal.”
Julian nodded slightly. “You do that,” he muttered.
Lancaster took a step away from the table, stopped short, and put his hand on Cameron’s arm. Cameron flinched. “My condolences for your loss,” Lancaster offered seriously, ignoring Cameron’s reaction, and then he turned and began walking away.
Cameron didn’t move as he watched him leave the restaurant. He wasn’t sure what to think anymore, except that Julian was in a hell of a lot of trouble. Visibly shaken, he turned to face Julian.
Julian was shaking his head as he stood and pulled his black leather billfold out from his breast pocket. “Fucking wine,” he whispered, still in the Irish accent. Cameron was beginning to think it was real. He’d never seen Julian quite so unraveled.
He met Cameron’s eyes briefly before looking back at the money in his hands. “He was lying,” he added as he began counting out the money to pay the bill.
Cameron watched him, aware of the longing and upset in his expression and not caring about hiding it anymore. “Lying about what?” he asked in a pained voice.
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Julian looked up at him as if surprised that he’d actually spoken.
“There being anyone other than you,” he answered bluntly.
Cameron inhaled sharply and wrapped his arms around his middle, his eyes remaining locked on Julian the whole time. He had to step back, or he’d never be able to look away. And he realized with a painful jolt that this just might be his last chance. “I’m sorry,” he said abruptly. “For what I said.”
Julian looked at him closely and gave a slight jerk of his head to the side in response before looking back down at the money he was counting. “Is that because I’m about to die?” he asked calmly.
Cameron couldn’t stop the soft whimper this time. “No. Because I was afraid. Because you didn’t deserve it,” he said pleadingly, willing Julian to understand.
“Yes, I did,” Julian assured him with a small nod. He placed the rest of the bills on the table and then looked up as he buttoned his jacket. He looked heartbreakingly sad, which scared Cameron even more. “Will you tell Blake something for me?” he asked softly.
Cameron gave a small nod.
“Tell him to run like hell if I don’t come back.”
Cameron swallowed on the knot in his throat and nodded again.
“He’ll be waiting for you, won’t he? Lancaster. He wants to kill you.”
Julian nodded minutely. “Tell Blake I’ll come here if I’m able,” he requested hoarsely.
Cameron could see the tangible defeat on Julian’s shoulders, and it made him angry. Julian had always been strong and stoic, and this ghost of who he had been was wrong. So very wrong.
“You’ve given up,” he said accusingly. “What happened to ‘I’m good at what I do’?” he demanded.
“He’s good at what he does as well,” Julian responded calmly.
“There’s a price that comes with doing what I do,” he explained distantly. “We all pay it in the end. Just tell Blake,” he requested, barely able to say the words.
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Cameron was struck speechless by the mixture of defeat and longing and fear in the black depths of Julian’s eyes. His heart broke with an almost physical pain as he realized what he had truly done to the man, a man who had once been so magnificent. It had never been Julian who’d been capable of breaking anything in their relationship, Cameron realized. He’d had all the power all along.