Samurai Game

CHAPTER 4

Sam pushed the rifle slowly into deeper brush, careful not to rustle any leaves. He waited until the guns were once again quiet. “I’m standing up now. No one get crazy on me.”

His heart drummed out the time in his chest. This was the single moment no one ever wanted to live in. Life or death? There were at least seven to ten of the enemy, not including the second Jeep full of mercenaries. Any one of them could get trigger happy and his life would end in a hail of bullets. He really didn’t want to go out that way. Taking a deep breath, he let it out and slowly stood, both hands raised high. His gaze moved fast over the entire area, noting positions of the enemy. There weren’t as many as he’d first thought-or Azami was making the most of her time.

Do you need me to create a distraction? I can lead some of them off you.

No, don’t do anything yet. When I need you, I’ll give you the signal, but don’t let them know you’re close-not yet.

“Link your fingers behind your head and walk forward,” the man in charge ordered.

Sam had six semiautomatics centered on him. He did what he was told. The occupants of the Jeep were worrisome, and now that they had him, they were going to move fast to keep his team from raining fire down on them. He and Azami had bought a few minutes, but not enough to get his team down the mountain.

The brush was thick and he swore as he deliberately walked through it, swallowing more precious minutes and making a show of stumbling. He didn’t want to look like a threat to any of them. He couldn’t quite look like a whipped pup, but he tried to project that image. He was about to reveal secrets to Azami, and there would be questions he didn’t want to answer, but if he was going to get out of this alive and keep her safe, he had no other choice. She’d be watching him this time and she’d see what he could do. This time, the battle was more like a pool game, all about the angles.

One of the men made a comment, laughing a little at his discomfort, the words in his own language. Not so tough. They lied to us about these men, he interpreted.

“Shut up,” the commander growled, clearly not wanting them to speak anything but English.

He was more cautious than the others and absolutely the biggest threat-which meant the commander had to go first. Sam chose each target carefully. He could take out five of them for certain, but his energy would be sapped quickly after that. He’d have to be in almost continuous motion, taking only a second for each kill. His body wouldn’t have time to catch up to the speed he was moving. He wouldn’t feel whole, the sensation of his body tearing apart strong, but he simply had no other viable choice.

Azami, when I give you the word, can you take the two soldiers hanging back in the trees, nearly out of my sight? Can you see them?

No problem.

There it was-that supreme confidence he found sexy as hell in the middle of a firefight. Who knew he was such a fucking pervert that a woman in battle could turn him on with just her soft voice filling his mind with assurance that she could take out the two soldiers. Purring. She purred, the sound of her voice vibrating through his entire body.

Time slowed down like it always did for him when he needed it to. The wind rustled the leaves in the trees and lighter branches swayed gently. The sky overhead was pale blue, a few wispy clouds floating. A perfect day. He noted the faint crackle of leaves as mice scurried away from the intruders. Somewhere a hawk screamed. Life continued with or without Sam Johnson.

The commander signaled the closest man forward. It was now or never. Sam sent Azami the order. Take them.

He ran straight at the commander, his fingers gripping the handle of his knife. He crossed thirty feet with blurring speed, so that the commander blinked and Sam stood in front of him, already drawing the blade across his throat. Sam ran for the soldier twenty feet from the commander, banked off a tree and plunged the knife through his throat, twisted and was sprinting toward the third soldier. Racing up the trunk of a tree, slingshotting off, somersaulting in the air, he landed behind the third soldier, cutting his throat as his feet touched ground. Another burst of speed took him directly to the fourth soldier.

He slashed in a figure eight, cutting arteries, feeling the effects of repeated teleportation, his body beginning to shake with overload. He put on another burst of energy, racing from the fourth soldier to the fifth. He zipped around trees, to come up behind the soldier.

The entire thing had taken seconds only, but the fifth soldier had caught the fall of his companions and whirled around in a circle, his finger steady on the trigger. Sam had to turn with him, staying behind the man, praying Azami was clear of the stream of bullets as they cut through leaves and trees and mowed down branches. His body shuddered, legs suddenly rubber. Sam plunged the knife deep into the soldier’s kidney, knowing he was going to go down. He had to take the soldier with him to keep him off Azami.

The gunfire would draw the Jeep filled with mercenaries, and he was terribly weak. He might not be able to protect the woman. Get out of here. Make your way back to your brother. The team is on the way, in the air now. I can feel them getting closer.

He twisted the knife free and plunged it a second time, determined to take the soldier down with him. His knees gave out and he went down hard, retaining possession of the knife. The semiautomatic continued firing as the soldier sprawled over Sam, the sound deafening.

I don’t need protection.

There was just a bit of haughtiness in the soft voice filling his mind. She poured warmth and confidence into him. The gun went silent, but he felt the vibration under him, indicating the Jeep was racing toward the battle. Sam summoned strength and shoved the dying soldier off him. The man rolled, his dark eyes staring at Sam in a kind of a shock. They’d been a far superior force in numbers, but one GhostWalker and a woman had destroyed them.

You get your men?

Of course.

Sam pushed down the smile that little haughty note brought out and rolled to get his hands under him. He groaned at the sudden crashing pain and tried to push himself onto his hands and knees. This was more than weakness from teleporting too much. The distances had been relatively short and his body felt nearly settled. He’d taken a couple of deep wounds from the stabbing broken branches in the trees, but really… in front of Azami?

“It isn’t going to happen,” he muttered. “You’re a fuckin’ GhostWalker. Get on your feet and move, soldier.”

He felt a surge of psychic energy, a strong wash surrounding him, and instinctively he twisted, looking for the threat. Azami materialized on his left side, reaching down to slide her arm around his waist. Shock waves rocked him. There was no way she could use teleportation, yet she’d been a great distance from him. How had she managed to cross that space in under a second? As far as he knew, he was the only one in the world who could do such a thing-and yet, she had. He recognized the burst of power, the alarming buildup of energy and the way her body shimmered for a moment, nearly transparent until all molecules caught up with her speed.

He found himself looking into those dark, mysterious eyes. For one moment, he felt as if he was falling forward and he caught himself. He was not about to lean on anyone, let alone a woman. “Who the hell are you?” Because she was no ordinary woman, and more and more his radar told him he was dealing with a fellow GhostWalker. And if that was so, and she hadn’t identified herself as such, if she was lying about who she was, they had a major problem.

He did not want to kill this woman. Everything in him rebelled against the idea, yet that nagging suspicion refused to go away. He held his breath. The wind seemed to cease.

“I’m the woman who happens to be saving your butt right now. Keep walking. We’re about to have more company. If you go down again, you won’t be getting back up.”

Hell. He knew he’d been hit, it just hadn’t registered in his brain yet. He’d been moving too fast, but someone had fired repeatedly and a bullet had clipped him-somewhere. He was used to the aftermath of teleporting, the sheer exhaustion and the pain as bones and tissue realigned, as if somehow, they hadn’t all quite found their rightful places back in his body. He accepted the help from her, not wanting to fall on his face in front of her.

Her waist was very small. His hand was so big, he was almost afraid to put it on her-afraid anywhere he touched would be inappropriate. Fucking hell. He should be thinking about guns and bullets and self-preservation, not how perfectly her body felt against his.

They hobbled away from that scene of death and chaos, back into deeper woods. Azami didn’t go far. She set him down beside a large tree. He could feel the earth trembling.

“The others are close. My team’s about five minutes out.” He blew out his breath and assessed the damage. “I can handle this. Seriously, woman, you’re driving me crazy.” She was too, but not in the way she should be. He should want her hiding in the bunker with her brothers, Kadan and Nico protecting her, but no, she was here, in danger, and all he could think about was how good she smelled. And how very glad he was that Kadan and Nico had wives they adored.

Azami laughed softly. “I seem to have that effect on men-driving them crazy. Apparently my behavior is not normal.”

“You’re damned attractive and you’re distracting me.” The words were out before he could censor them, shocking him and judging by her face, shocking her.

“I think you’re a little delirious.”

The teasing note in her voice slipped inside his guard and warmed him. Damn it all, she wasn’t who she claimed to be and he was responsible for the safety of his team and for Lily’s baby. The woman was overpowering his good sense with sheer sex appeal. He turned his head toward the sound of the engine drawing near, more to distract himself than for any other reason. He’d known all along that Jeep was close.

Overhead they could hear an approaching helicopter, the sound of the blades growing loud. Azami sent him another smile and made a move to rise from behind the brush. Alarm rushed over him and Sam caught her wrist, yanking her back to safety. She didn’t resist, or even look annoyed. She simply looked down at the fingers shackling her and then back up to him, raising an eyebrow.

Damn, she was calm. He liked that. He also liked that her fingers had settled around the hilt of her knife. His curved around hers, holding her hand still. “You don’t trust me.”

“I don’t know you. But I see you lack trust in me as well.”

He flashed a wan grin. “I don’t know you either.” He indicated above the canopy with his chin. “They aren’t ours.”

Thorn glanced at the sky, her heart thudding hard in her chest. Two helicopters? That was some serious firepower. Mercenaries and Iranians. What was going on? Someone wanted either Sam Johnson or her-very badly.

Ropes dropped from the helicopter hovering some distance away, and several men began fast-roping down. She assessed the damage to Sam. He’d been shot. It looked like a through and through, but the bullet had entered on his right side and come out the back. He’d lost a lot of blood. It was only his training and iron will that kept the pain at bay and the soldier from passing out.

It was impossible for a woman like Thorn not to admire Sam as he pushed himself up, sliding his weapon forward and going to ground without so much as wincing. The back of his shirt was covered in blood and there was more on his calf. “Stay still,” she advised. “And take a breath.”

She didn’t give him time to think about it, as she pulled a thin, rather large rectangle-shaped bandage from her pack. Shoving up his shirt, she slapped it over the wound. He gasped and turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, suspicion in his eyes. She ignored it and reached for the front of his shirt.

“That feels like some form of a drug called Zenith. My blood vessels are expanding rapidly. My body’s going hot and flooding with adrenaline. You get the same reaction from Zenith.” There was accusation in his voice. “I had no idea there was a topical form. Before it was banned, it was given via injections.”

She slapped another medicated patch over the entry wound. “It’s second-generation Zenith. Definitely not going to kill you, so mellow out.”

The suspicion didn’t ease, she could tell by his eyes, but he turned back toward the enemy. There was nothing he could do either way, the patches had been applied, the Zenith was in his system, and so he turned with a casual shrug of his shoulders, making her admire him all the more.

“How would you know about Zenith if you don’t know Dr. Whitney?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t acquainted with the man. You never asked me.”

Thorn slipped into place beside him, lying on her belly, her eyes watching the enemy force fan out and disappear into the brush. “Military. Trained. I think we’re looking at an elite force.” She assessed the enemy.

“My team is just minutes out,” he reiterated with confidence. “Keep your head down.”

She sent him one dark look of pure reprimand. She’d already given away too many secrets, but then-so had he. She respected him for that. He’d taken his job of protecting her quite seriously, even when he saw she could handle herself. And he hadn’t tried to relegate her to the background as so many other men would have. He treated her as an equal. He hadn’t fought the Zenith patches and he knew the first generation eventually killed its host if one wasn’t administered the antidote within the prescribed time frame. That told her he was very seasoned and completely confident in his abilities. She may have underestimated him just a little.

Sam grinned at her, that quick, cocky smile sending shock waves through her. She’d never reacted to a man in the way she was reacting to him. One flash of his white teeth, those dark eyes warming with a teasing light, and her body overheated, her blood rushing through her veins with more exhilaration than she’d ever felt. Sam Johnson made her feel alive.

She’d been in countless perilous situations-it was the very nature of her business-and she’d never encountered such a physical and emotional reaction to anyone. “You’re a dangerous man, Sam,” she accused.

His grin widened into a mischievous smirk. “You have no idea just how dangerous, Ms. Yoshiie.”

That grin promised all sorts of things that had nothing to do with enemy warfare and everything to do with male versus female. Why would that softly whispered taunt turn her into pure melted heat? There was something turbulent and stormy and so seductive in his eyes, so appealing to a woman with her nature.

They were surrounded by an unknown enemy force, and yet the man beside her seemed to turn the experience into an exhilarating roller coaster of emotions. She’d never felt so feminine as she did now, there with her guns and knives and bow and arrows, lying beside Sam in the rotting vegetation and brush. And damn it all, she loved that he was dangerous.

They began moving in unison, as if dancing, using elbows and toes to take them over the uneven terrain, two lizards propelling themselves forward soundlessly. Not even the whisper of clothing gave them away as they crab-walked their way closer to the enemy. On the right the sound of the Jeep’s engine suddenly died and a voice called out in Spanish. Another answered in the same language. As if pulled by strings, they looked at one another, both puzzled. Thorn couldn’t believe how in tune they were. Why would mercenaries be in one Jeep and Mexicans in a second along with obviously military-trained Iranian soldiers hunting them?

You really are very popular, aren’t you? Thorn asked him, a teasing note creeping into her voice. She slipped her knife out of the scabbard and turned toward a sound in front and to the left of her. Someone was near-too near.

Sam laid a restraining hand on her arm. Bloodthirsty woman. Leave them be. The cavalry is in the air and we want to be able to track them back to whoever sent them. Someone has to be left alive.

That’s a lot of someones to be left alive when they’re determined to kidnap my brother.

What she should have said was to quit touching her. No one touched her-not without her permission-and she wouldn’t give it if they did ask. Sounds increased all around them. They weren’t going to have much choice soon. The soldiers moving toward them weren’t from the Jeep. These were men who knew what they were doing in the forest. They came in formation, fanned out, covering ground, armed and ready for anything. They were moving swiftly as if they knew they only had minutes to find their quarry.

We’re nearly in the open. We won’t stand a chance like this. Her hand slipped once again to her gun. She was good in close combat, but there were too many to take down that way. It would have to be loud and that would draw fire. She could smell the coppery flavor of blood, but there was no scent of fear coming off of Sam.

Trust me. I know that’s hard when you don’t know me, but if you trust me, we’ll be fine.

Her heart thudded. The closest she came to trust was her father-maybe Daiki and Eiji-but even then, she preferred to rely on herself. She protected them, not the other way around. She swallowed the edge of fear-not from the enemy but from her own strange feelings. In the end, if they tried to take her prisoner, she’d kill as many as she could before they killed her. For one long moment she stared into those dark, fathomless eyes, letting him know silently her intentions. He didn’t flinch away but seemed to understand she had no intention of being taken alive. She would never be a prisoner again. Her nod was nearly imperceptible, but he caught it.

He wrapped his arms around her and turned, pushing her smaller body deep into a depression in the ground beneath a fallen tree. His body on top of hers obliterated everything, so that there was nothing but him in her world. He went completely still, his skin color changing subtly. He was wearing jeans and a loose shirt, a casual, almost elegant look on his muscular frame, his good looks drawing attention from the fact that the clothing reflected his surroundings so that he faded into the background. In an environment such as this one, his clothing was another tool of combat.

The soldiers were around them now, two on either side. The trunk of the tree shuddered as one booted foot stepped atop it. She didn’t move a muscle. Above her, Sam’s body seemed completely relaxed, although she felt the coiled tension in him, much like a snake ready for action. He might give the appearance of relaxed indolence, but he could easily explode into action.

Relax.

They are the enemy. But it wasn’t the enemy that had her tense. She was feeling things she shouldn’t. For him. Her awareness was frightening. She felt every breath he took, every beat of his heart, the bunching of his stomach muscles. She could almost feel the blood running hot in his veins.

He wouldn’t understand. How could he? She’d read his file. He hadn’t had it easy, but he still wouldn’t understand the demons running her. Her father had worked hard to rid her of them. Demons had no place in a samurai warrior. She admired both Daiki and Eiji. They had overcome their daunting pasts to replace rage with serenity. She had failed to wipe out that terrible anger completely. At the most inconvenient times-like now-anger exploded to the surface.

A dark, black cloud settled over her, and Dr. Whitney with his inhuman, reptilian features stared coldly and dispassionately down at her with absolute, utter distaste. He could take apart a child, dissecting them as he would an insect without so much as noticing they were still alive and suffering-she ought to know, she still had all the scars.

Her heart nearly stopped when Sam’s mouth skimmed, featherlight, across her forehead. She was certain it wasn’t just warm breath, but the actual touch of his lips. Accident or not, it set her blood rushing hotly. An insect crawled over her hand and she controlled the itch that ran up her skin, but it was impossible to control deep inside where something totally unknown to her-something feminine and all woman-reached for him.

She held her breath, certain in the knowledge that a great storm was coming in her life and that this man was at the center of it. Her fingers dug into the muscle of his arms inadvertently as if she needed to hold on to the only thing solid when everything else around her was spinning out of her control. She’d been waiting all of her life for revenge-or justice; either would work, but now she thought perhaps she’d been completely off course. This was what she’d been waiting for-this moment, this man-and he was about to turn her life upside down.

The soldier stepped with both boots onto the tree trunk, rocking it. She felt the pinch across her back, but didn’t wince, didn’t make a move or sound. She kept her eyes wide-open, observing Sam. His skin was discolored, fading into the leaves and branches scattered thick over the ground. She felt the small movement of his arm, so slow, inch by slow inch so as not to disturb a single leaf. His eyes, those beautiful dark eyes, changed subtly-became almost hypnotic so that she couldn’t look away even if she tried.

The soldier stepped down onto the ground a scant inch from where Sam’s arm rested against the trunk of the fallen tree. He curled his fingers, his eyes still staring into hers and brushed, ever so gently, against the camo-clad leg as the man took another step. She felt the movements of his arm-an easy uncoiling of the snake before it struck, featherlight and very gentle.

The soldier took three more steps and staggered. He called out in Farsi. Abruptly, to their right and left, two more soldiers rushed to his aid. The one Sam touched sank to the ground, his hand trembling, trying to hold on to his leg-the leg she knew Sam had brushed so casually. What had he done? There had been no sound. No change of expression, but he’d touched that man in that exact spot, she’d felt that subtle movement. What was different about his eyes? She swallowed and continued staring into those mesmerizing eyes, half incapable of looking away and half trying to understand what was happening.

The two other soldiers took positions on either side of their fallen comrade, the nearest one with his leg inches from Sam’s arm. Again, she felt that slow, stealthy movement. She knew she should have let go of his arm, but she kept her fingers positioned against his strange-colored skin. Sam wasn’t finished. Whatever he’d done to the first soldier, he intended to do to another, and she was determined to unlock his secrets.

Sam didn’t blink, his eyes shimmering with a fire deep under all that dark cover. His muscles bunched and rippled. His expression didn’t change. His gaze didn’t shift. He could have been lying in the grass studying the open sky. She knew his heart rate hadn’t changed at all because she felt each beat. His breathing was slow and steady. The man should have ice water in his veins, but even that wasn’t true-she felt the heat of his body.

Thorn couldn’t prevent the rising admiration for this man. He was truly dangerous and she wanted to uncover his every secret. That file had meant nothing but data to her. This was a man Dr. Whitney deemed useless to him and yet he could teleport and he had another unseen weapon she was determined to ferret out. Had Whitney miscalculated Sam’s psychic abilities as he’d done hers? She knew Sam had been altered genetically, his DNA manipulated, but there was little information on Sam beyond his ties to General Ranier.

The soldiers spoke in hushed tones. She translated in her mind, unsure if Sam knew the language or not.

“Something bit me. A snake perhaps. My leg’s on fire and my heart’s beating too fast.”

Great drops of sweat ran down the soldier’s body, covering his clothes with damp, dark splotches. Thorn smelled fear. In the distance, the sound of a helicopter moving toward them grew in volume.

Again she interpreted the soldier’s conversation in Farsi. “We have to go now. Get back to the clearing.”

“I can’t walk.”

“We’ll help you. We have to hurry.” The answer was gruff, as if the soldiers had turned their heads away from their fallen comrade, toward the ominous sound of the helicopter.

She felt the muscles ripple ever so slightly in Sam’s arm, the most gentle of flexes. His arm moved with that same infinite slowness, brushing so lightly that she heard the whisper against the material of the soldier’s fatigues, just along his calf. Again, his arm moved back with that same unhurried motion to the ground. So, he understood Farsi as well. And he was about to strike at the soldiers.

His eyes glowed with a fiery red bursting like angry starlight through a dark sky. His face never changed expression. He seemed… relaxed. She was trained in warfare, skilled in so many arts, and yet tension coiled in her so close to the enemy in preparation for battle. They were virtually hiding in plain sight a scant foot from the soldiers and Sam was clearly attacking them, yet his body was without anxiety or stress of any kind. He was-magnificent. Dr. Whitney was a fool to call this man expendable.

She felt that brush, so exquisitely delivered, that same unhurried featherlight bite of… what? Death? Poison? If so, how did he administer it? Did he carry a syringe? She was adept at passing an enemy and dispensing of them with no more than the small stinging bite of an insect, yet this was different. The soldier gripped his fallen companion and with the aid of his friend, the two set out at a fast pace toward the clearing where transport waited impatiently.

The second soldier stumbled. This man had taken at least three running steps, perhaps four, before he felt the fire of the attack. He grunted, dropped the now incapacitated soldier, and sat abruptly clutching his calf. “I was bitten too. I felt it. I feel it. Like fire creeping up my leg.”

The third soldier looked warily around the ground, his semiautomatic pushed forward, finger on the trigger, his eyes scanning sharply. Thorn realized Sam had known all along it was a possibility the one he couldn’t reach might get trigger happy and spray the ground. He had virtually covered her body with his, tucking beneath the added safety of the tree trunk. Still, he remained perfectly relaxed, his eyes smiling down into hers. The soldier backed away from the two fallen men slowly.

“Send Martinez for these two. They can’t make it back,” he ordered in Farsi into his radio.

He turned and sprinted away from the two fallen soldiers, racing through the trees to reach the helicopter. Sam rolled away from her.

Now you’ve got a few minutes to interrogate them. Make it quick. They won’t live long.

He was up fast, moving with his blurring speed to kick away the guns. The only way she could tell that he was weak was the slight tremor of his hand as he wiped it over his face. In spite of the application of the topical form of Zenith, promoting fast healing, the blood loss, coupled with the tremendous drain on him from using teleportation, had sapped his energy. In spite of it, he was a soldier through and through, refusing to give in to pain or exhaustion while there was still more to be done.

Thorn slipped from beneath the log and brushed at the insects, casually flicking them off her clothes as she took two steps toward the soldiers. The capricious wind shifted and she caught the smell of sweat. Sam!

She didn’t hesitate, launching her body at Sam. He caught her in midair, drawing her in, wrapping strong arms around her as he dove back and away from the two fallen soldiers. They hit the ground, Sam rolling under her to protect her. She heard him grunt, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. Angry bullets spat all around them, kicking up leaves, dirt, and splinters. Sam rolled fast, taking her into the area densest with trees.

The moment he let her go, she crawled behind the thickest trunk she could find, making herself small.

We have to move. Follow the coordinates in my head. I know you can teleport. Don’t argue with me, just do it.

Sam’s voice carried an absolute authority she normally would have taken exception to, but sanity and self-preservation overruled pride. He pushed the coordinates into her head and she recognized the spot he gave her. She didn’t hesitate, moving with that gut-wrenching, sickening speed that took her breath and burned her body so that the moment she was once again still, she always had to mentally check herself to assure every piece had arrived safely.

Thorn had the presence of mind to hold completely still, unmoving, waiting for him to arrive beside her. She guessed that would place his body between her and any danger, but she didn’t dive for cover, afraid of interfering with Sam’s successful arrival. She felt the wash of unbelievably strong psychic energy, the surge so powerful it shook her. Heat burst around her as Sam’s body shimmered, nearly transparent, looking like ash more than human, and then he was there, real and solid, his hand settling around her arm to push her toward cover.

The helicopter with the Iranian soldiers had already taken to the air, rocketing fast across the sky, a second helicopter in hot pursuit. The sound of gunfire was loud, bursts of fire streaming between the two mechanical birds.

Sam and Thorn slipped into the dense brush and hugged the ground. It was a little ironic that they’d spent most of their time together in such close proximity. He probably knew her body much more intimately than anyone she’d grown up around-and she knew his. She sent him another grin, her eyes lighting with mischief. She couldn’t help it. He made her feel so alive, every nerve ending lighting up and aware.

You alive, Sam?

The voice startled Thorn. She heard it clearly and knew she was still linked to Sam. She knew he’d leave her mind, all that strength and warmth gone to leave her absolutely, utterly alone. She’d never realized she’d felt alone. She loved her adopted father and brothers. They weren’t terribly demonstrative-but neither was she. Still, there was no way for them to understand just how truly different she really was. She didn’t belong anywhere. She never felt entirely comfortable with anyone until she found herself fighting beside Sam.

Strangely, she seemed to know what he was going to do and she trusted that he’d get it done. He seemed to afford her the same trust. She’d always been a puzzle to everyone around her and even to herself, but with Sam, he’d put all the pieces together, using parts of himself, and they just fit together. She took a breath and saw him look at her-a look of regret. And then he was gone and for one terrible moment, it was unbearable to be Thorn again.

Her entire body shuddered, as if the mental leaving was also physical. Biting ice cold swept through her veins so that she had to grind her teeth to keep them from chattering. The scars on her body and in her mind banded tight, robbing her of breath and reason-but only for a brief moment. She was Thorn. No one, nothing was going to defeat her. She took a breath and looked away from warmth and happiness. Bleak cold settled over her once again.

Sam glanced at Azami. Ryland’s voice was loud in his head and he hadn’t yet detached himself from her. He knew he had no choice, but he’d never felt so reluctant to do something of paramount importance to his team. He knew she would see the unhappiness in his eyes, but in that moment he didn’t care how vulnerable he was to her. The loss of her would be a terrible blow when she’d filled every empty space with her strength and conviction. With her humor.

He took a deep breath and let go of her. The loss rocked him as he knew it would, leaving him strangely cold and for one bloody second, without hope. He actually experienced grief before he clamped down hard on his strange and entirely inappropriate emotions, turning himself back into stone. He found it odd to feel so completely lonely when he’d never minded being alone. Without her in his mind, he felt he’d lost too much of himself.

Sam shook his head. We’re fine. We’ve got a Jeep full of mercenaries to drive off, and you’ve got trained soldiers in that helicopter. Iranian.

There was a small silence as Ryland digested that shocking bit of information. You’re certain?

That’s affirmative. Are the other two civilians safe?

Yes.

Sam detested what he was about to do. Guilt ate at him, a terrible stone in his gut, but it had to be done. I don’t believe Azami is who they claim she is. She has many of the same gifts I do. She can teleport and she’s psychic. Kadan and Nico have to really watch the other two. I’ve been uneasy from the first, but I don’t have an idea what’s really going on.

Roger that.

Ryland’s matter-of-fact voice was a comfort. Sam had conveyed uneasiness from the moment he’d approached the trio of visitors from Samurai Telecommunications, but he hadn’t actually warned his team something was off. He’d waited for Kadan or Nico to raise the alarm, to at least feel the strange warning that he couldn’t shake, but neither had said anything.

I think they’re all armed to the teeth, at least for certain she is and she fights like one of us. We’ve got five Mexicans in a Jeep, everyone else on the ground is dead.

Cleaning crew on the way and Gator’s in position to tail them. Let at least one go.

Roger that. But he didn’t feel good about hunting with Azami, allowing her to put herself in danger when he’d just betrayed her.

Dr. Whitney was an implacable enemy and he wanted the children. Lily and Ryland had a baby boy in the compound, and more than anything else, he had to be protected. Just a few miles farther up the mountain, Team Two had twin babies and there was a softly whispered rumor that another woman was pregnant. No one spoke of it, to keep the information from reaching Whitney, who seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere. In San Francisco, another GhostWalker couple had a baby too, and if Lily purchased this satellite from Samurai Telecommunications, the Yoshiie family would visit both compounds as well to install software.

Sam couldn’t take the chance that Azami was involved in a plot to aid Whitney. He couldn’t see what she would get out of it, but there was no taking a chance with the children. He found he couldn’t look at her. The terrible knots tightened to the point of cramping in his belly. He pushed himself up as the sounds of the helicopter and gunfire faded away.

“We’ve still got to harass the ones in the Jeep.” He kept his face averted, his features expressionless, and his tone gruff.

“Sam.”

His name was a whisper of sound. Soft like snowfall or the drop of the leaves in the fall. He took a breath. She didn’t continue-just waited for him to face her. Silence stretched between them, but she wouldn’t bend, demanding he face her.

“Damn it, Azami.” Screw politeness. He’d sold her down the river and she’d probably saved his life with her patches of Zenith, although that was one more condemning mark against her.

Still she stayed silent. The wind persisted blowing through the trees, and he could hear the Jeep moving toward them, heading fast for the trail out.

He turned his head and his heart actually jerked in his chest as his eyes met hers. She smiled at him. She looked so beautiful standing there so still, her expression composed, serene even.

“I would have done exactly the same thing.”

Damn her for that. Absolving him of his sins. He shook his head. That didn’t make him feel better, although it was probably her intention. “Let’s get this done. And one stays alive. We need him.”