Samurai Game

CHAPTER 2

At long last the game was on. Azami “Thorn” Yoshiie allowed herself one small smile as she stepped out of the single-engine plane she’d piloted, landing at the tiny airport of Superior. She’d flown over the Lolo National Forest, taking her time, quartering the acreage where she knew the homes of GhostWalker Teams One and Two were located.

Jack and Ken Norton, two members of Team Two, owned twenty-four hundred acres surrounded by national forest and they had leased it to the two GhostWalker teams, forming a nearly impenetrable fortress. From the air, even the houses were nearly impossible to spot. The soldiers had taken great care to incorporate their surroundings, using mountains and trees to hide their existence from the outside world.

Her two most trusted men accompanied her, flanking either side of her, but a foot away, giving all three plenty of room to maneuver should they have need to do so. Daiki and Eiji Yoshiie were both broad-shouldered men, although Daiki stood a head taller than Eiji and a good foot taller than Thorn. Both were impressive warriors, missing little when it came to details. She needed her best for this job, men who were calm, quick-thinking on their feet, and without fear. They were walking into the lion’s den and worse-sticking their heads right into its mouth. They were also her adopted brothers, and she trusted them as she did no others.

“Before we go any further,” she said softly, “I need to ask one more time if you’re both fully committed to this mission. This will be the most dangerous operation we’ve done to date. Nothing else compares with this. Every man, woman, and child in this compound is enhanced as well as psychic. We don’t know what gifts they have and we’ll be under constant surveillance as well as intense scrutiny.”

Daiki frowned at her. “Why is there doubt in your mind, Azami?”

“You are at the most risk, Daiki, because of the role you must always play. Our company has grown far beyond what we imagined and there is more than enough money for both of you to bow out now, before it’s too late. As head of the company, you’re a target anyway, but when you walk into the lion’s den with me, you and Eiji will have less of a chance against enhanced, experienced soldiers. You’ve read their files. You know what we face. These men are some of the most dangerous men on the face of the earth today. Even factions of their own government fear them. They will strike against you first, my brother.”

“We vowed to help you, Azami,” Eiji pointed out.

“And I released you from that vow long ago,” she reminded. “I am enhanced, as they are. I have psychic gifts, as they do. This isn’t the same as the other jobs we’ve worked on.”

Daiki shrugged. “These people could be innocents and we don’t want to make any mistakes. We need to know who our enemies are.” He looked his sister in the eye. “We made this vow to our father, not to you. You cannot release us. You never asked this task of us.”

“We do not wish to be released, Azami,” Eiji added. “It is important that you know that. I am prepared to die. Death means nothing to me. If fate wishes it so, then so be it, but I will work to stop this evil. Like Daiki and our father, I saw what that man did to an innocent child.”

“We are sworn to stamp out evil,” Daiki continued. “Our father’s legacy lives in all of us. He took us in, gave us life when we would have lived as slaves in the sex trade. He gave us his name and his heritage. He taught us the way of the samurai. We have thrived in business following his way. We cannot step off the path when it becomes dangerous. We have prepared for this day.”

Thorn took a deep breath, pride for her brothers slipping into her heart. She took another deep breath, drawing in the crisp air coming off the surrounding mountains. She saw the freedom and beauty of nature and always found she felt completely free when she was away from the cities and out in the open. She’d learned calm, to be centered, to know her way and have confidence in herself, but Whitney was a personal demon she’d never been able to fully exorcise in the way that she should. Confronting his evil was necessary, but still, at night-when she was alone-the thought of him, those terrible memories of her years with him, still gave her nightmares.

“Azami?” Daiki inquired softly.

She could hear the genuine concern in his voice, and as always, when one of her brothers showed her unexpected affection, she was touched. She sent him a small, quick smile of reassurance, keeping her features serene. She could tell Eiji and Daiki were both worried about her. They’d been with her since the day they had been with their father and had seen the occupants of a rented car dump her out on the street in one of the worst parts of Kinshicho in eastern Tokyo. Whitney had disposed of her in a place known for pimps, sex trafficking, and pedophiles, just as her brothers’ parents had abandoned them. She had been eight years old and her body had been covered in scars already. She’d weighed forty-seven pounds, and the signs of torture, abuse, and multiple operations were significant-signs that she had been systematically experimented on by a madman.

Mamoru Yoshiie had lifted her gently into his arms and looked into her eyes for a long time before he’d nodded, as if seeing something in her that was worth saving. No one had ever made her feel as if she was worth anything until that simple nod. He had taken her home to live with him and his adopted sons. From that day, Yoshiie had raised her as if she were a beloved daughter, not a throwaway found on the dirty streets.

“It’s beautiful here. I don’t know why I didn’t expect that.” It was her way of reassuring them, pointing out the beauty of their surroundings as their father had done when her nightmares had awakened the entire household night after night. He would carry her outside where she could breathe, and sit with her, pointing out the distant mountains and the sky overhead. The boys would crowd close, touching her shoulder in that same calm reassurance.

They were walking straight into what might be the heart of an enemy camp. It wouldn’t be the first time, and hopefully, it wouldn’t be the last. There was little intelligence on the compound, and even sending a satellite to spy over the Lolo National Forest hadn’t yielded much in the way of data. She had no idea if this particular group of GhostWalkers worked closely with Whitney or not-but his daughter and grandson were somewhere up in those mountains. Lily Whitney-Miller was married to a GhostWalker. She had worked with her father on some of the experiments. If anyone knew Whitney’s location, it would be his daughter.

“These people are professionals with abilities similar to mine,” she reiterated quietly. “Do not take chances. If things go bad, don’t worry about me, just get out fast.”

Daiki frowned at her. “You are repeating yourself, Azami,” he reprimanded. “Are you certain you’re ready to do this?”

“I’ve waited all my life for this moment. Whitney is a monster and he has to be stopped,” she replied. “It is my destiny to find a way to cut him off from those he manipulates into aiding him, and then I will be able to stop him.”

“We’ve had years to practice our roles,” Eiji pointed out. “We’ve played this out in front of the entire world and we won’t make a mistake. Believe in the skills our father taught us, little sister.”

Daiki bent close. “We are brilliant businessmen to the world, but our father taught us the way to live, to be, and we are extraordinary warriors. We will not fail you or ourselves.”

“Heads up,” Eiji warned.

“Mr. Yoshiie?”

Thorn turned slowly, her breath hissing out at her reaction to that low masculine voice. Serenity, she reminded herself as a powerfully built, coffee-skinned man with heavy muscles and an easy, fluid walk approached. His dark eyes were filled with intelligence and his curly black hair invited a woman to run her fingers through it.

Thorn was rarely shaken by anything, especially by the appearance of a man-after all, she’d trained with very fit men for years-but for some reason, this man shook her when no one ever did. He walked with the confidence of a GhostWalker, very skilled, an exceptional warrior who knew his worth. Sam “Knight” Johnson.

She’d studied his file in great detail. He was renowned for his hand-to-hand combat skills and he’d been a member of the team that had gone into the Congo to rescue Ken Norton. There was nothing in his files to indicate what psychic skills he had or what Whitney had done to enhance him, but the way he walked, fluid, his body flowing over the ground, made her think of a great jungle cat. She noticed he made no noise when he walked and when he stopped, he went absolutely still.

Sam Johnson had multiple degrees in molecular biology, biochemistry, and astrophysics as well as nuclear physics. He’d been an orphan, raised in numerous foster homes before General Theodore Ranier and his wife, Delia, had recognized the extraordinary intelligence of the boy who had stolen their car. The general talked the court into allowing him to be responsible for Sam, and then he and his wife had taken the boy in. It was the general who had seen to it that Sam was educated. Only after satisfying General Ranier’s demand for a higher education did Sam make the decision to follow in the general’s footsteps and join the army.

His career had been-extraordinary. He was highly decorated and had run multiple covert operations successfully, building a reputation in the Rangers before joining the GhostWalker program. There he had received additional specialized training as well as enhancements, once again performing with excellence, honor, and courage. He had run numerous missions in Yemen, searching, finding, and taking out high-profile al-Qaeda targets, again without any recognition or fanfare. He was brilliant, an amazing soldier, and had contributed significantly to his country’s safety, and yet this was the man Whitney was so willing to sacrifice.

“Welcome to Superior,” Sam said with a slight bow. “Thank you so much for coming.”

His bow, though Americanized, was not in the least awkward, she decided. She could see why the GhostWalkers would send him as an emissary. He was almost courtly, his manners impeccable. Intelligence shone in his eyes and, she reminded herself, he was a GhostWalker, capable of things no one would ever believe.

If both Teams One and Two trusted this man to vet visitors, she would have to be very careful. It didn’t help that his voice nearly mesmerized her-and maybe that was an enhancement right there. He was the enemy. She had to think of all of them as her enemy. She kept her eyes downcast, presenting one of her best disguises, hiding in plain sight. Few people ever looked past the powerful Daiki Yoshiie, part owner of the largest international telecommunications company in the world. He was a billionaire and a trusted man in the world of business. Like the samurai of old, his word was his bond. Few knew that it was his adopted sister, Azami, who was the brains behind the company and that she developed all the audio communications for the satellites while Eiji developed the lens.

Sam had to force himself not to stare at the woman. She stood between the two men, but slightly behind them, which bothered him on some strange, elemental level he didn’t know existed. She was very small, and unlike the traditional businesswomen of Japan who usually wore skirts, she wore the same navy, pin-striped suit as her male counterparts. He’d studied the films on all of them, and she often wore this severe-looking suit, although for him, it made her all the more feminine. Her complexion was smooth, petal soft, her mouth shaped like a little perfect bow. He loved the way she wore her long hair swept up and held by multiple ornate pins, with several long silky strands tumbling to her shoulders and down her back, an invitation for a man to want to take all those pins out just to see that mass of black hair cascade to her waist.

She looked young and innocent and fresh, almost as if she’d been secreted away in a convent her entire childhood and was just coming out into the world for the first time. She appeared quite traditional and far too young for a man as weathered and hardened as he was, with her downcast eyes and long, feathery lashes. His heart slammed hard in his chest and his blood rushed hot through his veins. He kept an expressionless face, grateful for the years of training. He’d never been so aware of anyone in his life.

“I’m Sam Johnson.” He didn’t offer his hand, but bowed a second time, this time to her-that small woman who packed such a punch he felt her like an electrical current running through his bloodstream.

The taller of the two men stepped forward with a slight bow. “I am Daiki Yoshiie. This is my brother, Eiji, and my sister, Azami Yoshiie.”

The woman cast her eyes to the ground, but not before he saw something dark and intelligent swirling there. In one brief glance, she had appeared to take in everything about her surroundings. When she bowed, she looked more a regal princess than the demure woman walking two steps behind the powerful men who ran Samurai Telecommunications.

Sam studied the trio without appearing to do so. He was good at sizing up the enemy, which was exactly why he’d been sent to pick up the three VIPs. Outsiders were rarely allowed inside the compound. The risk of allowing anyone inside where security precautions could be determined was great, but they needed these people and, after all, they were computer nerds-right? His radar had gone off the moment he approached them, and he had no idea why. They looked exactly as they had in every news report and interview they’d done, yet they gave off some strange vibe that set the hair on the back of his neck up just like hackles.

Sam watched the way they moved, that easy flow across the ground. Perfect balance, feet under shoulders, rolling muscles. Even the woman-as small as she was-had that same flow of a fighter. Whoever these people were, they were not just computer nerds. They didn’t spend days and nights in front of a screen or sitting in a chair. Yet even that could be accounted for. Their father had been a famed swordsman and ran a school training students in martial arts. It would stand to reason that all three would be skilled, but his gut didn’t accept the explanation.

Possible Charlie. He raised the alarm reluctantly, sending the alert to his two team members lying up on the rooftops, both armed and very dangerous.

It was the woman whose gaze jumped to his face. She felt that small pulse of energy where neither man had. That meant… Sam refused to look away from her. This woman had secrets, and it was up to him to protect the two GhostWalker teams and their families relying on his judgment. She aroused his interest; more than that, she intrigued him, but the safety of the compound came first, and she definitely was far more than she appeared with her business suit and her demure expression. A man could get trapped in those dark, liquid eyes, so velvet soft and inviting, filled with intelligence and piercingly bright. Her dark eyes slipped from his gaze and shifted toward the rooftops. Oh, yeah, she was sharp, this one.

What had she missed? Thorn took another slow, careful sweep of the airport and the outlying buildings. Nothing seemed out of place, but Sam was not alone and he’d definitely communicated telepathically with someone else. The spike in the electrical current had been sharp, a certain sign of psychic energy. Although it had been far too long since she’d felt such a surge, there was no way she didn’t recognize it. She’d spent a good portion of her childhood feeling that spike when Whitney experimented with the other girls, using her body as his lab rat.

She could almost smell psychic energy. She associated that spike and scent with acute pain. She wanted to press her hand to her stomach to still the sudden churning. She thought she was past all that. All the years her adopted father had put into training her in the way of the samurai. She should feel at peace anywhere she was. She accepted death as part of life. She wasn’t afraid of this man or anyone else, but those childhood memories were forever entrenched in her brain.

The lives of both Daiki and Eiji were in her hands. They trusted her-trusted her judgment. Had she started this game before she was ready? It was war, pure and simple. She had declared war on Peter Whitney, and all of them would be at risk until it was finished. He had tortured her, used her for his ghastly experiments, and then disposed of her when he thought her of no more use to him.

Many times her adopted father had pointed out to her the huge mistake Whitney had made. Whitney had seemed omnipotent-godlike-to the orphan girls he controlled in his laboratory, yet had not known the considerable power Thorn wielded. She had been a child but she had managed to keep her psychic gifts secret from him-in effect, she’d defeated him. There was honor in what she’d accomplished, Yoshiie had assured her. She hoped he would think what she was doing now was honorable.

“We so appreciate you making the trip,” Sam said, keeping his voice low, showing no emotion, but he watched them closely. Lily had outstanding intelligence on anyone she did business with. She would never have invited these three to the compound if she had any suspicions. “We’ve arranged for you to stay with us. Do you have your bags?”

He shoved his hand through the thick mass of curls on his head, watch facing out, scanning the faces of each of the three VIPs from Samurai Telecommunications. If these three were imposters, the facial recognition program would catch it immediately. He couldn’t explain what made him so uneasy, particularly about the woman. There were no covert looks, nothing to make him worry, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about them. He was careful, watching them closely, and he couldn’t discern a signal between them, but he was certain something unseen by him had passed between them.

“We do not want to impose on your kindness. We will stay in the local hotel,” Daiki said with a small smile.

“Unfortunately, our home is miles up the mountain, Mr. Yoshiie,” Sam said. “Trying to get you back and forth would eat up most of the work time. It would really be more convenient for you-and for us-if you stayed with us. We have accommodations apart from the main house. You would have plenty of privacy.” He wanted them where he could see them at all times, and he wanted Lily to send him the results of the facial scans immediately.

Again, he didn’t see them exchange any signal, nor was there a sharp spike in the energy around them as if they were speaking telepathically, but his brain refused to settle. Every nerve ending was on high alert. He watched them all very closely, observing their interaction, and there wasn’t a single thing out of place, not one, yet he found himself more certain than ever that something wasn’t right.

As strange as it seemed, he was coming to believe that it was the woman, not Daiki, who was in charge. There was absolutely no reason why he would feel that way. The reputation of the Samurai Telecommunications company was spotless, and always, it was Daiki at the helm, Eiji and Azami flanking him, but Sam found he didn’t believe it. They were almost too smooth.

Of course they would be, he argued silently with himself, they had gone to high-security companies all over the world; yet he found himself certain that the woman was the boss, not the imposing male doing all the talking, which was shocking. Samurai Telecommunications was in the news all the time. It was an international corporation with offices in London, Tokyo, Washington, DC, and San Francisco. They were investing in Africa as well as making headlines by investing in Turkey. Eiji was usually the spokesperson, but Daiki was the undisputed leader and lauded to be the brains. Azami was always with them, but clearly in the background.

Even with Dr. Lily Whitney-Miller, who was an acknowledged genius, Sam was used to being the smartest person in the room, often overlooked because he was a soldier, and people automatically discounted the brains of a soldier. He had the feeling Azami Yoshiie might be the smartest person in the room wherever she was-and those around her overlooked her because she was a woman. She stayed in the background deliberately, just as he often did. He found he could gather more intelligence that way, and he would bet his last dime that she used exactly the same tactic.

He wasn’t certain why he was so on edge or felt as if they were in the opening gambit of a lethal chess game, but his alarm system was shrieking at him-loud.

Lily says all three are who they say they are. Nicolas “Nico” Trevane relayed Lily’s assurances. He was the undisputed best shot of the team, a sniper renowned for making impossible shots and the man Sam most wanted as a backup at that moment.

It was Sam’s call then. Bring them up? Or dump the high-resolution satellite for the time being? Sam let his breath out slowly. There was no doubt the woman felt that small surge when Nico relayed Lily’s acknowledgment of the three identities. Her gaze had jumped to his and then once more did a careful survey of the rooftops.

The first and second GhostWalker teams had made their homes in Montana, high in the mountains, their lands bordered by the Lolo National Forest. They were completely self-sufficient and could live for years off the land if they needed to do so. They had an impressive arsenal built up between the two teams as well as vehicles for winter, small planes, and a helicopter. Lily’s money had been put to good use. This high-resolution satellite would allow amazing surveillance. They had far too many enemies. They needed a secure way to check every order as well as to communicate with the other two teams making their fortress in San Francisco.

“This way,” Sam directed, making up his mind.

Again a flutter of indecision settled in his gut. This had never happened before. Sam always recognized an enemy. His eyes were enhanced. He saw tiny details others missed. He was highly skilled in recognizing lies. Their facial expressions remained serene, not giving away anything, yet some tiny flicker of signals his brain caught but he hadn’t yet defined told him something was off.

As a rule, he was a gentleman and would offer to carry the woman’s bag, but he wanted his hands free. He hoped Nico or Kadan “Bishop” Montague, a powerful anchor and shield, lying up on the rooftops with a sniper rifle, would take note of that precaution. They both knew him, knew the way he worked. Anything out of the ordinary would alert them to possible danger.

Thorn curled her fingers around the handle of her small travel bag. She couldn’t spot the shooters, but she knew they were there-she felt them now. The taste of psychic energy was in her mouth, impossible to ignore. Once she entered the SUV that would take them to the very lair of the GhostWalkers, she would no longer have a choice, not without killing someone. She would be fully committing her brothers to their course of action. Neither Daiki nor Eiji was enhanced, although they were well versed in the way of the samurai-Mamoru Yoshiie and his school had seen to that. They were extraordinary warriors, and she knew she could count on them. They had worked smoothly together over the last few years, but this would be their most dangerous mission yet. Did she have the right to risk their lives?

“Ma’am?” Sam prompted.

She sent him a small, demure smile, her gaze flicking to his. The moment their eyes met, she felt that hard punch in her stomach. A million butterflies took wing. He definitely had an effect on her. She gripped the handle of her bag and lifted it, indicating she would follow him.

It was now or never. She had already set her plan in motion. She had to know all the players, and this man was a sacrifice, a “knight” in Whitney’s game to be given to a ruthless killer to be tortured before he was disposed of. It was possible she could make him an ally. In any case, if she managed to pull this off, she would have eyes and ears in Lily Whitney’s camp here in Montana, and the GhostWalker teams would want the satellite software installed in their San Francisco fortress as well. This would be her biggest step in her war against Whitney, and his own daughter could very well be his downfall.

GhostWalkers, as a rule, could detect one another fairly easily, and they always felt psychic energy when it was used. She had learned she was an exception-even Whitney hadn’t known she had powerful psychic gifts. So far, that single distinction hadn’t let her down, but Sam Johnson might prove to be the one person who was able to “feel” her psychic energy even when she wasn’t using it. She knew that was part of the code of identity. They all “felt” that subtle pulse their bodies gave off when they were in close vicinity to one another. She controlled that pulse, just as she could control her heart and lungs.

Sam led the way to the SUV. Had Nico and the Bishop not been watching his back, he would have had a difficult time leading the way across the open parking lot to his vehicle. The sense of danger grew instead of dissipated. Every step raised the hair on the back of his neck, but he never broke stride or gave away that he was worried. The trio acted the part of businessmen, but somehow they didn’t feel that way to him. Every sense remained alert, and he actually felt the pulsing of the venom sacs implanted along his wrist from one of Whitney’s insane experiments. For his body to react with such intensity, he was certain he wasn’t wrong-that something was not right about their three guests.

The facial recognition program would be nearly impossible to beat and certainly would have detected one of them as being imposter, raising the alert immediately, but Lily had confirmed the identities of all three. Clearly, the taller man was really Daiki Yoshiie, founder of Samurai Telecommunications, and the other two were his adopted brother and sister. The company had risen fast, gaining an impeccable reputation internationally. It was said that the company was run by the code of Bushido and that their word was gold.

Sam knew the exact position of all three of the visitors. They had fanned out as they followed, the woman directly behind him. None of them made noise when they walked, not the slap of the soles of their feet, not the soft brush of the material of their clothing. Still, he “saw” them. He had the ability to “feel” and map out anything behind him. He practiced each step in his mind. At the first sign of attack, he would step back and to his left, crowding Eiji, while he disposed of the woman first, believing she was the real threat. He would have to follow through, snapping Eiji’s neck and using him as a shield against Daiki’s attack. It would have to be one move, not two, killing Azami and then Eiji immediately after.

Nico would definitely take out Daiki. Still, Sam was armed and he added the second move, shooting Daiki the moment he had disposed of Eiji. He practiced over and over in his mind until he knew every move smoothly. All the while he kept his breathing easy and his stride casual. They crossed the parking lot without incident.

Unlocking the SUV, he opened the front passenger door. Daiki slipped inside, much to Sam’s consternation. He had expected the woman to take the front seat. She flashed him one look, her expression covered by the sweep of her lashes, and went around the vehicle to take the seat behind the driver. A muscle twitched in Sam’s jaw. He wanted the woman where he could see her. The two men didn’t raise his hackles in the same way she did. The last thing he wanted was for her to be sitting behind him.

Sam took Daiki’s bag and stowed it in the back, then gathered Eiji’s as well and placed it carefully in the storage space. There were three rows of seats in the SUV, making the luggage space small, but the visitors seemed to be traveling light. Azami had kept her bag very neatly with her. He would have liked to get a feel for the weight of that bag. She was definitely the threat his body was reacting to.

He had been fully briefed on them. Little was known of Azami before Mamoru Yoshiie had adopted her. Rumors flew about Yoshiie, yet nothing was concrete. He was reputed to be a direct descendent of a famous samurai and his family had passed down to him all the fighting skills and way of life of the samurai. He was known as a master craftsman of sword making. He seemed a quiet, gentle man who led a family life. He had a good reputation from all who knew him, and yet the rumors persisted until the man was shrouded in myth, becoming a thing of legend.

It was whispered in Japan that Mamoru Yoshiie earned his real living as an assassin. The yakuza were rarely spoken of, especially in polite company, and when it was implied Yoshiie had some association with them, that had been firmly denied by the yakuza itself. They left the man strictly alone and some said it was Yoshiie one went to if they were in trouble with the local crime lord. Sam doubted if any of it was true until he’d met Yoshiie’s adopted daughter and his sons. All three moved with the skill of a consummate fighter.

“We were expecting at least two bodyguards to accompany you,” Sam directed his statement to Daiki. “We do have accommodations for them as well if you would feel more comfortable.”

“Azami and Eiji are my bodyguards when we are installing software for a satellite as important as this one. We know that most companies do not want strangers living and working where sensitive material might be exposed. We endeavor to make our clients as comfortable as possible.”

That made sense and it explained the way Azami’s eyes had continually swept the small airport and the roofs of the buildings, but it didn’t explain the way his body reacted so strongly to her.

“Why are we waiting?” Azami inquired very politely.

Sam couldn’t keep his gaze from shifting to the rearview mirror. Azami wasn’t looking at him-or Daiki. She peered through the tinted windows, obviously expecting trouble.

“We know a man of Daiki’s stature has enemies,” Sam said, his tone very matter-of-fact. “We had men in position to cover anyone taking undue notice of your arrival. They’ll be here in a moment or two.”

He kept his glaze glued to the rearview mirror, observing Azami’s reaction to the news. She turned her head slowly and met his eyes in the mirror. He felt the impact all the way to his toes. His blood went hot, rushing through his veins, flooding his groin with need. He kept his expression composed, but only with effort. She was potent, that sweet, demure-looking bodyguard sitting directly behind him. He had no doubt she could take off his head in seconds. So much for the intellectual, computer-nerd types.

She inclined her head, regal princess to the peasant who had just scored. She had known his men were out there all right-she wasn’t in the least surprised-but she didn’t like them climbing into the SUV and seating themselves directly behind her and Eiji, neatly flanking them, taking away any advantage they may have had.

Nico and Kadan both carried large, solid briefcases, clearly housing their sniper rifles. Neither tried to hide the fact as they slipped inside. Sam kept his eyes locked with Azami’s. She didn’t even turn her head or flick a glance toward the two men as they entered-and that was more the mark of a professional than anything else could have been. She was too sure of herself. Sam swore to himself. They were in real trouble, but he couldn’t figure out how or why.

These were businesspeople. They were known throughout the international community as well as having been vetted by every separate military, CIA, and Homeland Security committee that could possibly investigate them. They were under intense scrutiny, just by the fact that they produced and sold high-resolution satellites. Their software and their satellites were considered the best in the world. How could every agency have made such a mistake?

Sam wanted to doubt himself, he really did. The woman was the first one who had really intrigued him, both mentally and physically. Maybe it was the challenge, but deep down, he knew this woman’s destiny was tangled with his. Good or bad, they were somehow intertwined. He’d rather their relationship was positive, but that nagging radar of his wouldn’t shut up. Something was very off about all three visitors.

“Kadan Montague and Nicolas Trevane,” he offered by way of introduction after he’d identified their guests.

All three gave a slight head bow toward the newcomers. Azami continued to look at Sam through the mirror, her eyes like that of a cat, tilted and wide, fringed with feathery black lashes that swept down demurely when her brother turned his head to look at her. Sam wasn’t buying the act. He started the SUV, sending up a silent prayer that Nico and Kadan wouldn’t be lulled into a false sense of security by Lily’s positive IDs. The back of his neck itched. Azami Yoshiie was more than a damned bodyguard, and it was going to require a fair amount of discipline to keep his mind on his driving.

The mountain road was hazardous, the switchbacks tight and the road narrow once they were away from the small town. Sam set his teeth and drove. He could feel his heart beating in his chest and he did a little slow breathing. It made sense that Daiki Yoshiie would travel with bodyguards who could protect him as well as teach clients the installation and use of the necessary software for their products. Being bodyguards explained the way they all three moved, and if half of the rumors circulating about Mamoru Yoshiie were true, he would have taught his children to defend themselves. So if it all made sense, then why was he so uneasy?

“Would you like music?” he asked Daiki politely. Making casual conversation was usually quite easy for him, but he felt he had the proverbial sword poised at his neck, making it a little more difficult to think up topics of interest.

“It is not necessary,” Daiki replied with equal politeness. “I do not require music or conversation to be comfortable. I enjoy the surroundings, and your mountains are quite beautiful.”

“And remote,” Eiji added. “This road does not appear as if it gets much traffic.”

Sam had veered off the main road leading to the Lolo National Forest, to take a private road most of those residing in the complex of homes within the fortress used. The road was a little steeper than the other one, but it cut through the thicker forest, the canopy of trees forming a natural ceiling above them, hiding them from possible eyes in the sky.

“The compound is remote,” Sam said. “It affords us privacy. The research is very delicate and security is tight.”

“I understand Dr. Miller resides on the premises of her research center,” Daiki continued.

Sam sent him a sharp glance and looked in the rearview mirror. Both Kadan and Nico looked as if they were lounging lazily in the far backseats, but he knew their expressions very well. The moment Lily was mentioned in conjunction with her residence, both had gone to full alert. At all costs, Lily’s son needed to be protected from any outsiders. He had been born with exceptional qualities, and everyone knew her father, Peter Whitney, would do anything to get his hands on the boy or at least gather evidence that the child was different.

“Have you met Lily?” Sam asked, knowing the answer. He’d been in Pakistan hunting high-profile al-Qaeda targets when the four GhostWalker teams had made the decision to acquire a high-resolution satellite of their own.

The money in the GhostWalker fund allowed the astonishingly expensive but necessary purchase, but it was the security that concerned all four teams. They had known someone from Samurai Telecommunications would have to spend time at both compounds while they learned to handle the satellite.

“She came in with her husband to our DC office several times,” Daiki said. “An extremely brilliant woman.”

Why the hell did he feel so damned edgy? That was Lily. Anyone meeting her nearly always used that adjective to describe her, yet Sam’s radar wouldn’t stop shrieking at him. If anything, it was in full-blown alarm mode. He glanced in the mirror again, then to his right and left. If someone had been behind him, he should have seen dust. Still…

“Do you have someone following us?” Sam asked simultaneously with Azami.

His breath caught in his throat as his eyes met hers in the mirror. He saw the same shock and surprise in her eyes that were in his. She felt that same wariness and wrongly had put it down to his crew. If the threat wasn’t emanating from her or her men, then where the hell was it coming from?