Table Of ContentPublished by
Dreamspinner Press
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Suite 244-149
Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warrior’s Cross
Copyright © 2009 by Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Cover Art by Anne Cain [email protected]
Cover Design by Mara McKennen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information
storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where
permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press,
4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/
ISBN: 978-1-61581-029-1
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
August, 2009
eBook edition available
eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-030-7
To the mysteries in life.
Warrior’s Cross 1
“CAM? He’s back.”
The waiter looked up from the bottle of wine he was corking.
“He?”
Miri Taylor rolled her expressive eyes and tipped her head to one
side, sending the long blonde tail of hair off her shoulder. “Yes. He.
You know; tall, dark, devastatingly handsome, always comes alone on
Tuesday nights, always writing in the little notepad—”
“Always orders the special and no dessert. Yes, I remember,”
Cameron Jacobs answered hastily, going back to the bottle in an effort
to hide the little jump in his nerves.
“Well, Mr. Nichols put him in your section again,” Miri informed
him with a smirk. “Did you ask for him to be seated in your section?
That’s like six times in a row!”
“Is it?” Cameron asked nonchalantly, although for the past month
and a half he had looked forward to Tuesday nights like nothing else
for that very reason. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” he lied. “I do
work sixty-plus hours a week, you know,” he reminded her. “I don’t
always remember everyone.”
“Yes, you do,” Miri argued.
Cameron gave her a sideways glance and tried not to smile.
“Well, you’d better get out there,” she urged as she glanced
through the slats of the fashionable wooden shutters that hid the service
area from the rest of the restaurant. “That man is so fine,” she muttered
to herself.
2 Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Cameron stifled a laugh. He finished with the bottle and took a
deep breath to calm the sudden racing of his heart. “Put this back in the
cooler, would you?” he requested as he handed Miri the bottle and
headed out to the floor.
Carefully recessed lights, candles on every table, and tiny,
twinkling lights reflecting off the soaring glass ceiling lit the dining
room. Large, clear windows along one wall offered a look at Chicago’s
sparkling skyline, and tables dressed with fine linen, crystal, and china
were spread about the ample space on varying levels. Soft jazz filled
the air, just under the quiet buzz of voices highlighted by the clinks of
utensils on plates and the scratch of chairs moving on the floor. Keri,
the restaurant’s chief hostess, escorted a couple from the full waiting
area to a solitary open table while many other patrons waited patiently,
plied with champagne and light hors d’oeuvres.
Because at the four-star restaurant named Tuesdays, the food and
service were said to be impeccable.
Cameron moved silently through the tables, his slight frame
ghosting along in the all-black wait staff uniform. He wasn’t the type of
man one tended to notice right off; he was trim and a little wiry, of
average height and build, and he kept his brown hair cut short and neat.
His quiet personality and tendency toward introversion made him
naturally discreet while working, and his pleasant but unremarkable
appearance made him perfect for scooting behind chairs and reaching
around people with plates, coming and going without garnering
attention or interrupting a patron’s meal.
He was perfect for what he did, and he enjoyed it. But tonight
there was a little more to it.
Pausing near a burbling fountain, Cameron looked across the room
at his goal: a quiet alcove for two, where one man sat alone.
He’d been coming to the restaurant sporadically since it had
opened eight years ago, but in the past year or so he’d become a
regular. Met at the door of Tuesdays by the restaurant’s owner every
time he came to eat, he always sat at the same table. He was there once
a week, always on a Tuesday, whether by design Cameron couldn’t
have guessed. He always ordered the special—without looking at what
it might be that day—and the house wine, but declined dessert.
Warrior’s Cross 3
Cameron knew these details like he knew hundreds of other tidbits
about his regular patrons, people who frequented the fine restaurant and
valued the renowned service. It was one of the many traits that made
him excellent at his job.
His competence gave him confidence he wouldn’t otherwise have
had. Here at Tuesdays, he could handle these repeated encounters with
the mysterious him.
Cameron came to a silent halt at the table and spoke softly. “Good
evening, sir. The evening special and house wine?” he offered
knowingly. It was the same thing he asked every week. He’d stopped
introducing himself several months ago.
The dark man looked up at Cameron’s approach and nodded
wordlessly. Cameron bowed slightly and collected the untouched
menu. The patron had always been this way. The first night Cameron
had served him, a long finger had jabbed at the specials card and the
house wine listing. He had never said a word then or since—at least not
to Cameron—only nodding or shaking his head. Cameron never
pressed him, and he’d started making an effort to ask questions in a
way the man could answer without much trouble. He’d wondered more
than once if the man could speak at all.
“Bring an extra glass, please,” the man asked abruptly as Cameron
turned away. His voice was barely there, much quieter than his large
frame and dark, slightly ominous looks suggested it would be. It was as
if it had wilted from disuse.
Cameron turned back, eyes a little wider than usual. “Of course,”
he said, hoping the surprise didn’t show. “Anything else?” he asked
before inwardly berating himself for sounding like an idiot as he stared
at his normally silent customer.
The man shook his head curtly, the motion one sharp jerk of his
chin to the left.
“Yes, sir,” Cameron murmured, and he went on his way.
The man’s voice, hoarse and raspy, echoed in his head. Cameron
was sure he’d never forget the sound of it. And another glass? The
enigmatic customer was one of the staff’s favorite mysteries and thus a
near endless source of gossip and intrigue. Each person had a theory,
4 Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
fantasy, or story about him. If anyone had seen the man speak to him, it
would send the entire wait staff into a tizzy. Every little tidbit they
could glean simply fueled their interest.
Cameron’s heart beat a little faster as he thought about the extra
glass, and he wasn’t quite sure why. He collected the wine and the
glasses from the bar, checked to make sure there were no smudges on
the crystal, and returned to the table, the whole time telling himself to
be cool. There was nothing to get excited about, he repeated silently as
he deftly set down the glasses and started uncorking the wine.
The patron’s eyes followed his movements unerringly. “I’ll do that
tonight,” he said, his voice low, though a bit stronger than before.
“Thank you,” he added as he raised his head and looked at Cameron
with dark, shadowed eyes. They reflected the candlelight like polished
obsidian.
Cameron’s hands stilled, and after a moment spent caught in the
man’s gaze, he offered the linen-wrapped bottle.
The man took it and nodded. “Thank you, Cameron,” he said
softly. There was a hint of a polite dismissal in the words.
Cameron stared for a moment before snapping out of it. “You’re
welcome,” he said as he placed the corkscrew within reach before
stepping away. Hearing his name on the man’s lips made him shiver. It
was… seductive. Without ever meaning to be, Cameron was sure.
The man waited until Cameron moved away before he deftly
uncorked the bottle and poured himself an unseemly full glass. He
looked up at the empty glass on the other side of the table for a long,
motionless moment, then leaned over and poured a dainty glassful for
the absent person who would sit across from him.
“Cam, what’s he doing?” Miri demanded curiously as soon as
Cameron returned to the service area.
Cameron deliberately avoided looking out into the dining area,
instead going to work on filling a bread-basket. “What do you mean?”
he asked, feigning ignorance in the hope that his own curiosity
wouldn’t show.
Warrior’s Cross 5
“He’s got two glasses tonight. Is he meeting someone? Was he
talking to you? What’d he say?” Miri asked excitedly.
“Don’t you have work to do?” Cameron coaxed. He didn’t want
her to know that as soon as he’d heard the mystery man’s voice, he’d
fallen just a little more for him. It had been a long time coming, he
knew. It was embarrassing enough to have a crush on a patron. It was
worse to have a crush on someone who’d never actually spoken to you
before.
Miri huffed and crossed her arms. “Well, it’s a slow night. You
could share a little, you know? That guy is the biggest mystery most of
us have going! Let me live vicariously!”
Cameron wouldn’t admit he felt the same way. He prided himself
on his professionalism, and gossiping about patrons was not something
he did or intended to start doing. “There’s nothing to share,” he
insisted. “He asked for an extra glass; that’s all.”
Miri puffed her bottom lip out petulantly and turned to look out
into the dining room. At the mostly hidden table for two in the far
alcove, the mysterious man lifted his glass, toasted the one across from
him, and then took a genteel sip of the expensive wine.
“That’s really weird,” Miri muttered as she watched.
“I’ve got work to do,” Cameron said quickly before he could cave
and go to look. He lifted a crystal water pitcher in one hand and the
bread basket in the other and then fled the prep area to the floor, filling
water glasses and making inquiries as he slowly worked his way toward
the man who sat alone with his two glasses of wine.
Upon arrival, Cameron set down the basket and filled the water
glasses. Both of them.
No matter how much he wanted to, Cameron couldn’t come up
with a question to ask in hopes the man would speak again. He’d seen
other servers try to engage him in conversation, and it always made the
dark man look annoyed or frustrated. Perhaps that was why he stayed in
Cameron’s sections now, because Cameron never pressed him.
Cameron turned to leave, giving the man his privacy once more.
“How long have you worked here?” the man asked suddenly.
6 Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Arrested, Cameron turned to face him, trying not to show his
continuing surprise. “Since Tuesdays opened eight years ago,” he
replied warily, wondering why the man would ask.
The dark man looked at him steadily, his face expressionless and
shadowed by the low mood lighting. “Do you enjoy what you do?” he
asked.
Cameron felt unable to escape, pinned by those black eyes. He
tried to avert his gaze by studying the man’s face instead, something he
had never allowed himself to do at such proximity. It was all hard lines:
a high forehead, triangular jaw, sharp cheekbones. This close, he was
even more handsome than Cameron had thought. His close-cropped
dark hair was just barely graying at the temples, and his neatly trimmed
mustache and beard were impeccable. He always wore dark clothing,
blacks and charcoal grays, which did little to disguise his tall, muscular
body once he shed his heavy winter coat. That color—or lack thereof—
suited him in a way Cameron couldn’t quite identify.
He was like a dark angel, to Cameron’s mind.
After a moment, Cameron focused on answering the question.
“Yes,” he said. “I do enjoy it. Why else stay so long?”
The man’s eyes slid away, and he turned to look back at the
untouched wine glass. “Why, indeed,” he agreed, the words clearly
signaling the end of the conversation.
Cameron glanced to the second wine glass and back to the man.
When dining here, the man had always been silent and polite, but
surprisingly approachable in his own way, once Cameron got used to
him. Tonight he just seemed… off. The fact he was speaking at all
made this evening an unusual thrill. But the change in the man’s routine
also worried him.
“Are you… is everything all right?” Cameron ventured in a hushed
voice.
The man looked back at him as if surprised to see Cameron still
standing there. He answered with a curt nod and looked away once
more. This time the dismissal was clear.
