by Abigail Roux
Cameron shifted forward now that he had Blake’s attention. “You wanted the comparisons on the wine vendors? The house wine supplier jumped the price per bottle by twenty dollars?”
“Right, right,” Blake responded with a nod. He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Switch to someone cheaper; call their bluff.”
Cameron winced. “We don’t want to piss the supplier off. We have a lot of regulars who drink the house wine every time they come in.”
Blake smiled slowly. “Anyone in particular you’re thinking of?” he asked.
Cameron blinked several times. “Particular?” he echoed. “Uh. Well… I guess so,” he admitted as his cheeks colored. “But a lot of other customers really do drink it too.”
Blake continued to smile, watching Cameron and waiting for him to say what he really wanted to say.
“Blake, I… I have a question, but I don’t… I don’t want to pry, you know, too much,” Cameron waffled.
“So I’ll tell you when you cross a line,” Blake invited with a wave of his hand.
Cameron screwed up his courage. He’d come this far; he might as well ask. “Julian said that he’d do something here in the restaurant—about me—but that you told him he couldn’t,” he said in a rush.
Blake stared at him blankly for a moment before frowning slightly. “Remind me,” he requested finally.
“He said… he said he’d wanted to get down on his knees and beg me to go home with him.” Cameron winced once the words were out. It sounded silly now, but he was having a really difficult time absorbing it. He hoped Blake would be able to confirm Julian’s sincerity.
Blake laughed, quickly covering his smile with his hand as he turned in his chair. “Did you want me to let him?” he asked in amusement.
Cameron’s eyes widened. “It’s true? Really?”
“Well, he did say it,” Blake affirmed with a nod, still smirking. “Whether he’d really do it, I don’t know,” he added. “But I’ve learned to anticipate him.”
“Anticipation denotes expectation based on previous performance,” Cameron said weakly, leaning back in his chair, flustered.
Blake continued to smile as he looked Cameron over. “What’s brought this on, Cam?” he asked with a hint of concern.
“It just surprised me,” Cameron admitted. “I mean, really surprised me. No one’s ever—”
“Cameron, back up,” Blake said softly. “Pretend that I have no idea what you’re talking about, okay? When did Julian tell you this? Have you become seriously involved with him?” he asked in surprise.
“He told me a few weeks, ah, well, a month ago or so. And as to serious? I’m not quite sure,” Cameron said as his brow furrowed.
Blake cocked his head and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “You’ve been seeing him for over a month?” he asked finally.
Cameron nodded slowly. “Sort of,” he murmured.
“He must be pretty serious about you,” Blake murmured as he continued to look at Cameron thoughtfully.
“What?” Cameron asked. “Is that a surprise?” Now he wondered just how good of friends Blake and Julian really were.
“Honestly?” Blake said as he leaned forward and frowned. “Yeah, it is.” He looked at Cameron as if just realizing what he’d said, and he held out a hand. “I mean, not because it’s you,” he said quickly. “Jules just isn’t the long-term type, usually.”
Cameron managed a half-hearted smile, though Blake’s words echoed in his ears. Jules? He couldn’t imagine anyone calling Julian that. “A month is hardly long term,” he argued weakly.
“Then you still have a lot to learn about Julian Cross,” Blake advised with a kind smile.
“Believe me, I know that,” Cameron murmured.
“You want to talk about it?” Blake asked carefully.
“Yes, but I’m not going to,” Cameron answered, shifting his weight to stand. “If he wants me to know something, he’ll tell me.” He hoped.
Blake rested his chin in his hand and raised an eyebrow at him. Cameron crossed his arms and tried not to shuffle, but it didn’t take long for him to relent. “Okay, so he won’t. But he won’t appreciate me asking you instead of him.”
“Asking me what?” Blake asked nonchalantly.
“Anything remotely personal,” Cameron replied.
“I wouldn’t answer anything he wouldn’t want me telling,” Blake offered, his brow furrowing worriedly. “Are you afraid of him?” he asked.
Cameron’s shoulders immediately straightened. “No, I’m not. He asked me that too,” he said. “Why do you ask that?”
“A lot of people are,” Blake answered carelessly.
Cameron gave Blake an obstinate glare. Blake looked back at him in surprise, and Cameron’s eyebrow jutted up in response. “And?” Cameron asked.
Blake shrugged, his eyes straying to the silent television briefly. “Most people are,” he corrected, watching Cameron carefully.
Cameron’s shoulder edged up. “Well, I’m not,” he stated.
Blake nodded and then smiled widely. “Good. So why does it bother you that he wanted to make a fool of himself in public for you?” he asked in an entirely different tone. An amused tone.
“But that’s—that’s crazy!” Cameron exclaimed. “Not only crazy, but it would get him, and me, all sorts of attention. I don’t want to sha—” He cut himself off with a surprised blink. Where did that come from?
“I’m sorry. Don’t want to what?” Blake asked.
Cameron flushed and sank back into the chair. “Shit, I’ve got it bad,” he murmured.
“I can see that,” Blake agreed with a laugh. His smile faded, and he leaned back in his chair again, bringing his hands together against his stomach as he looked at Cameron thoughtfully. “Try to fall slower,” he advised, that tone now serious.
Cameron went still. “Are you going to tell me why you say that?” he asked, meeting Blake’s eyes.
Blake tapped his finger against the back of his hand. “You told me you didn’t want to know,” he pointed out.
After a long moment of quiet, Cameron nodded and stood. “Yeah. I did.” He moved to the door.
“Cameron?” Blake said softly.
Cameron turned his chin to look over his shoulder as he paused with his hand on the doorknob.
“I hear there’s been trouble with the vineyards this year,” Blake said to him. “Keep the house wine. We’ll stick with them for a bit longer.”
The corner of Cameron’s mouth turned up. “Good night, Blake.”
“Sleep well, Cam,” Blake responded with a sigh.
Cameron nodded and stepped out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him. He stood there a moment, then opened the door again and stuck his head back in. Blake hadn’t moved. He still sat there looking at Cameron expectantly.
“What does the name of the restaurant have to do with the god of war?” Cameron asked him curiously.
Blake snorted. “Google it, Cam,” he advised with a smirk. “Good night.”
Cameron grunted in annoyance and closed the door again. He dropped his head back against the door and decided it was time to go home.
As the weeks passed, Julian spent Tuesday nights after the restaurant closed at Cameron’s, and he showed up every Friday morning like clockwork, staying as long as he was able. Sometimes it was early Saturday morning before he left.
Now, another Tuesday had come around, and it was two nights before Valentine’s Day.
The restaurant’s décor was classy, as always, but now fresh roses in a myriad of reds, pinks and whites filled vases around the floor, and all the ladies took a few home with them. The dessert menu featured triple the number of items, strolling violinists promoted the romantic atmosphere, and the staff had a hard time keeping champagne cold because the bottles were going out so fast. Tuesdays was booked to capacity with a waiting list every day of the week.
When Julian stepped into the restaurant, he lost his usual air of myste
ry for a brief moment as he looked around at his surroundings with wide eyes. He hadn’t expected the restaurant to be decked out like it was. He recovered quickly, though, and schooled his face back to its polite mask.
Keri, well used to seeing him, greeted him with a smile and invited him in, leading him to one of the quieter alcoves. Julian was silent as he followed, and he reached out discreetly to snag one of the roses from a vase as he passed. As Keri showed him his table, he produced it out of the folds of his coat as if by magic and handed it to her with a small smile.
She smiled widely and thanked him before telling him Miri would be right with him, and then she took up the extra place setting and was on her way. Julian watched her go before he shifted to steal another rose and seated himself. He couldn’t help but be disappointed that he wasn’t in Cameron’s section, but sometimes it was fun to watch him from afar. He supposed he could live with the nosy waitress for tonight. Perhaps she’d be too busy to pry. Julian was feeling very amenable tonight.
It wasn’t long before Miri appeared. “Good evening, sir. Your regular?” she asked.
“If you please,” Julian answered with a nod. He produced the rose he’d hidden with a flourish and handed it to her with a tiny smile. “Thank you.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said, smiling a little more than usual. “I’ll be back with your wine in a bit.” As she walked toward the service area, she passed Blake, who said a few words to her. She nodded in response and went on her way, and Blake made his way to Julian’s table, pulled out the opposite chair, and sat down heavily.
“Damn Valentine’s crap,” Blake muttered to Julian as soon as he was seated.
Julian raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. “Scrooge,” he accused softly.
Blake turned up his nose. “Christmas is my kind of holiday. Valentine’s? I’m running out of creative jewelry to buy, you know?” he said defensively. “And the goddamned violinists are giving me a migraine,” he went on grumpily. “Unfortunately, I make enough money on a single holiday to carry me through at least a month, if not more.”
“Yeah,” Julian murmured. “Me too.” He sighed as he looked away. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t worked on a holiday. Holidays made people careless; they thought everyone took a break. Julian found a tiny, perverse bit of pleasure in proving them wrong.
Blake sniffed and sprawled back in his chair. “However, you have a reason to like holidays now, don’t you?” he murmured, his twinkling eyes belying the disgruntled face. “Someone to spend them with?”
Julian looked back at Blake carefully and grunted at him. “I’m going to steal him away from you,” he threatened under his breath, an impossible promise, he knew, even as he joked about it.
Blake actually chuckled. “He’d probably go too,” he allowed.
A smile flickered across Julian’s lips, but he didn’t say anything in response. “Do I need to give you a rose, as well?” he finally teased.
“That would go over well,” Blake said, leaning forward. “About as well as you getting down on your knees here in the restaurant to declare your undying devotion to my best waiter.”
Julian glared at his friend in warning. “He’s been talking, has he?” he asked softly.
“Just to me,” Blake admitted. “You really shook him up with that, you know? I wasn’t sure he was taking it that well.”
Julian narrowed his eyes and then looked away. He’d wondered that himself at the time. Cameron had been really surprised. He hadn’t taken it as the lighthearted joke it was meant to be.
Blake tipped his head to one side, the teasing light fading from his eyes and his tone. When he spoke, his voice was low and serious. “Why did you tell him that, Julian? Trying to get him into bed?”
“You know me better than that,” Julian chastised sharply, his focus snapping back to Blake.
Blake raised an eyebrow in question. “Don’t fuck around with him if you’re not serious, Julian. He’s too good a man to deserve what’ll happen if you have to dump him and take off. You know how realistic that scenario is.”
Julian looked back at him with a momentary surge of anger, an emotion that seeped out of his black eyes almost immediately. He looked down at the table sadly. He couldn’t be mad at Blake for pointing out what was simple reality. He knew better than to think he could have Cameron in his life without it causing problems, but…
Julian frowned. He’d lost his appetite along with his good mood.
“Julian, come on. Don’t give me that kicked puppy look. I’m just looking out for both of you. You can make it work. Lord knows, if anybody deserves some happiness, it’s you. Just… be careful. Please,” Blake implored quietly.
Julian pressed his lips together tightly and looked back up at Blake. “I don’t think I’ll be eating tonight,” he murmured. “Can you get Cameron for me? I’d like to say hello before I go.”
Blake frowned. “Cameron’s not here.”
Julian didn’t even twitch in response. He merely looked at Blake without blinking for a moment. “Where is he?” he asked softly, searching his memory to find if Cameron had mentioned anything unusual the last time they were together.
“He’s at home, I assume. He called in sick all weekend and today,” Blake said. “When was the last time you saw him? Didn’t you know he was sick?”
“Friday afternoon,” Julian answered hoarsely. “He was fine.” He stared at Blake intently and asked, “Are you sure he’s sick?” His pulse began to pick up as a nameless dread stirred in his gut.
“I sort of thought maybe he was shacked up with you somewhere and just didn’t want to tell me,” Blake admitted. He looked up to see Miri approaching with a bottle of wine. “Miri, have you heard from Cameron?”
“Not since Sunday morning,” she answered as she pulled out a corkscrew. “He called and left me a message, asked me to pick up his dogs.” She glanced up at Blake and then over to Julian. “Why?”
“Did you see him?” Julian demanded of her. Now his mind was starting to conjure scenarios he really, truly didn’t want to imagine Cameron being involved in.
Miri looked to Blake in concern, but answered Julian. “No, he wasn’t there when I stopped by. I just took the dogs and left.”
“He was too sick to care for his dogs, but he went out?” Julian asked in a low voice.
“He didn’t sound well on the phone,” Miri said with a shrug. “He sounded exhausted, and his voice was hoarse. I figured he went to the doctor or the drugstore or something. He left the door unlocked for me.”
Julian looked away from her to stare at the linen tablecloth. His mind raced, trying to remember how Cameron had been the previous Friday and fighting down the panic that leading his life could create. Had someone found out about Cameron? Was he hurt?
Blake looked at Julian hard for a moment. “Thank you, Miri. I’ll pour the wine,” he said pleasantly.
She left the bottle and went off to another table after casting another curious glance Julian’s way.
“You think he’s not sick?” Blake asked.
“I think I need to go,” Julian answered as he stood abruptly, unable to sit still any longer.
Blake stayed seated casually, but he watched Julian with a sincere worry in his eyes. “Call me,” he requested simply.
But Julian was already moving calmly toward the door. He kept his head down, but stayed alert to his surroundings as he went. If anyone followed him, he would know it. He waited until he was outside the building before he broke into a run.
Even as fit as he was, he found himself out of breath when he reached Cameron’s building, darting in through the entryway as a woman exited. Sprinting up the stairs didn’t help, and by the time he found himself at Cameron’s door he was fighting back the very real urge to panic. He banged on the door as calmly as he was able.
There was no answer.
Julian waited three breaths and then banged again, looking up and down the hallway carefully.
Still n
o answer.
He dug in his pocket for the small leather case he always kept with him. He opened it hastily and extracted two small utensils from the lock-pick set before remembering he actually had a key. He shoved the set back in his pocket and searched for the key with a quiet curse. After a brief moment of fumbling, he had the door unlocked, and he pushed it open carefully, practically vibrating with the urge to throw caution out the window and storm into the apartment.
But Julian was nothing if not cautious. He drew his gun.
He carefully surveyed the interior before entering. The main room was lit with only one lamp, and the kitchen was dark. The large space was very obviously empty. It was odd walking into Cameron’s apartment without being barraged by little white fluffy things. And it was cold. Very cold.