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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.

    Warrior’s Cross 29

    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.

    30
    Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux

    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.”
    “Of course.