There was no apology in her voice at all. She had done what she believed to be right—and she wanted to make it clear to everyone at the table that she would have done the exact same thing if she had to do it over. She wouldn’t aid Whitney in any way—especially not for money.
“And what did you find?” Ryland asked, his voice dropping an octave.
Sam inwardly winced. Ryland speaking low was never a good thing. Anything to do with Lily and Daniel made him extremely protective. Azami was treading on thin ground without a hint of apology.
Azami had no hesitation in answering. “I found Daniel to be a delightful, amazing child, well loved and protected by his parents and all of his ‘uncles.’ He’s very happy. You provide him with support, and stimulation, yet you give him balance so that he’s not pushing himself before he should. I couldn’t imagine better parents.”
“And yet we didn’t catch that he could teleport.”
As a father, Ryland seemed vulnerable to Azami. She hated that she caused him worry. “Well, he can’t actually teleport yet, thankfully; not more than about a foot or less,” she pointed out. “But it will be soon and he needs instruction and firm rules or he’ll have very bad accidents. I learned the hard way as I suspect Sam did. Daniel’s too young to find himself inside a wall.” She leaned toward Ryland. “Why would you think you could recognize the signs so early in him? I almost missed them and I practice daily.”
“I can work with him,” Sam offered. “I enjoy spending time with him, Rye.”
Ryland’s gaze shifted to Sam’s face. Azami could see that Ryland was definitely worried about his son attempting to teleport, and she knew he should be. It was an extremely dangerous gift, and in a child—an infant, really—the gift could be lethal.
“Thanks, Sam. Lily isn’t going to take this well. We have to strike such a balance with Daniel and we’re always guessing on how much to let him do and his ability to understand the things we try to teach him. I suspect this is going to be difficult. If his natural inclination is to teleport when he suddenly wants to sneak a cookie, we’re going to be reprimanding him constantly.”
Azami flashed a small smile. “He loves his life. He’s quite good at communicating. He already understands that he’s loved and you put down rules to keep him safe.”
“He’s a sponge,” Ryland said. “He soaks up information at a rapid rate. I have no doubt that he’ll speak multiple languages, and his motor skills are already amazing.” A small grin escaped. “I guess every parent thinks that.”
Azami leaned toward him again, making up her mind. She was going to throw in with the GhostWalkers. She had no doubts about this particular unit; she’d spent the last few days spying on them. She even had tiny cameras in various locations throughout the house. Eiji and Daiki were adept at fitting the cameras in places no one would ever find them. They could walk through a room and place one in mere seconds. She just had to strike a balance to protect her informant. She wouldn’t risk his life, not even for credibility.
“You have a much bigger problem than me, Captain, or your son teleporting. We have stumbled across some information suggesting you will be getting orders to go into the Congo to assassinate General Armine, who is in a fight with Ezekial Ekabela to take over the rebel army. Ezekial’s brother, General Eudes Ekabela, was killed by a GhostWalker, and Armine took over before Ezekial could step into power. Whitney needs Armine out of the way to allow Ezekial back into power. Ezekial has control of the diamond mines and there is a particular size diamond that Whitney needs for a new weapon he’s working on. The price Ezekial Ekabela is demanding is Armine’s assassination and a GhostWalker to pay for his brother’s death. Whitney agreed to the terms. Since Jack Norton, whom the rebels are desperate to get their hands on, has twins, Whitney is giving them someone from your team.”
Azami took a breath and avoided looking at Sam. Her stomach muscles tightened, her breath refusing to leave her lungs. She didn’t want to see condemnation in his eyes. She hadn’t warned him, not even when she was kissing him, committing to him in her heart. She forced the words out. “Whitney believes that Sam is useless to his program and he’s willing to sacrifice him in exchange for the diamond.”
Sam raised his eyebrow, but didn’t say a word. Gator nudged Tucker, but one look from Ryland stopped any teasing they might have done.
“Any orders coming to us would be classified,” Ryland said, his voice dropping another octave. “And then there’s the matter of the second-generation Zenith that my wife has been working on, and no one should have even a whisper of it, let alone an actual patch.
She’d known that was coming. Azami recognized the instant suspicion and she couldn’t blame him. If he’d come to her with classified information on a team that didn’t exist to the outside world, where they were going and what was in store for them, she’d be extremely wary of just how that information had come into an outsider’s hands. She had known the moment she disclosed what she knew, Ryland would really begin his interrogation.
She kept her hands folded in her lap beneath the table. Her stomach was jittery, not because she feared these people—she knew she could kill several of them before they got to her—but because she wanted to choose each word carefully and make them understand she was on their side without taking a chance on risking lives. “Whitney has several people working for him giving and passing along information, as well as helping forward his agenda. Clearly those helping him are people in positions of power. They do his bidding. I’ve intercepted his commands to a woman named Sheila Benet. She’s his number one courier.”
Beneath the table, Sam’s fingers wrapped very gently around her wrist, cautioning her. He didn’t want her to go any further. She had eyes and ears in the war room and knew the GhostWalker unit as a whole didn’t believe the three deaths associated with Sheila Benet were accidental, and it was obvious Sam didn’t want her confessing to murder. From the moment he had recognized that someone could have used a blowgun to kill Major Patterson, she was certain he would figure out who had done so. She had known the moment she met him that he was too intelligent to fool for long and had she been able to, she wouldn’t have looked at him twice.
“The same Sheila Benet that witnessed two accidents? One in a bathroom of a night club and one in a restaurant?”
“I read about the accidents,” Azami said truthfully. Her computers certainly searched for certain names that might come up in any news article or report. “I found it interesting that she was at both accident sites.”
The pad of Sam’s thumb slid back and forth over the inside of her wrist in a caress she wasn’t certain he was aware of—yet she was all too aware. She was rarely distracted by anything, but that small movement sent a shiver of heat down her spine. She should move her wrist away from him—she couldn’t afford any distractions—but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“We found it equally interesting,” Ryland said. “We don’t believe either of those deaths was an accident. And there was a third—a car accident as well that is suspect.”
She didn’t blink. “I have to agree with your suspicion. With Benet involved, I am certain those people had to be in Whitney’s employ. It would be too much of a coincidence to think they both died within weeks of each other—although stranger things have happened.”
Ryland studied her face with those piercing, steel gray eyes. She couldn’t imagine his son at sixteen lying to his father. She hadn’t lied, but she was definitely omitting facts. Ryland Miller seemed to see into one’s soul.
“You had nothing to do with those deaths?” he asked outright.
Inwardly she winced. There it was. If she told the truth, they could have her arrested. If she lied … Well, she wasn’t a liar. She widened her eyes and allowed a little frown, tipping her head back to look at him directly. “Why would you think that? How could you even consider such a thing?” Those were fair questions and she had sidestepped answering truthfully.
If Ryland cared enough to c
heck, and he might, he would find she was in the United States at the time of all three “accidents,” but until he had that fact, she was going to dodge every single incriminating question to the best of her ability.
Ryland frowned, studying her face. She knew she looked innocent. That was one of her best gifts, that ability, a natural one that her adopted father had helped her to perfect. Her diminutive size and delicate, almost fragile appearance was an asset. People always underestimated her abilities. She deliberately gave the appearance of a shy, demure woman who spent most of her life indoors.
These men were dominant and protective by nature. She read them easily. They made no attempt to hide what and who they were—warriors, every one of them—and yet they had a soft spot for women and children. To them, women and children represented what they were fighting for. The women and children were the reason they put their lives on the line for the freedom of their country, to keep those they loved safe and protected. That creed was bred into their very bones. As a samurai, she was trained to use every advantage, and her innocent looks aided her in unexpected ways.
Ryland suddenly snapped his head around and his eyes met Sam’s. “Is she full of shit? Or is she for real?”
Her stomach did an unexpected somersault. If there was one person sitting in the room who saw right through her—it was Sam. Ryland was his friend and the leader of his unit, a man Sam respected and felt great affection for. Azami had to suppress a groan. Sam wasn’t going to lie to Ryland, not even for her, and she wouldn’t respect him if he did. It was a lose-lose situation.
For the first time, true tension crept into her. She forced herself to breathe normally, to look as calm and serene as ever. Those strong fingers stroking her bare, inner wrist ceased moving and settled around her arm like a shackle.
“I know she’s the real deal, Ryland,” Sam said, his voice equally low.
Which could mean anything. Azami didn’t dare glance at him. Her heart had begun a strange pounding, the rhythm new to her. She had an unexpected urge to lean over and lift her face to his. His voice was absolutely honest. His simple sentence meant nothing to Ryland, but everything to her.
Her eyes burned for a moment, forcing her to lower her lashes. Her father had stood for her. Her brothers were in another room right at this moment listening so that if necessary, they could fly to her aid and all three might have a chance to fight their way out. Never had anyone else stood up for her, and Sam was not only standing but placing himself in front of her. He believed in her to the point that, although he wasn’t being deceptive, he was still deflecting.
Ryland evidently knew Sam very well. Those steely eyes narrowed. “You’re a damn big help, Knight. If anything, you’re full of shit.”
“I’m telling the absolute truth, Rye,” Sam confirmed.
“I’m sure you are. What the hell’s going on between you two?”
Sam shrugged. “I plan on asking her brothers’ permission to marry her.”
Azami gasped, swinging her head around to look up at him. It was one thing to fight quietly for her, but he was openly aligning himself with her.
Sam’s fingers tightened on her arm, but his gaze was locked with Ryland’s. “Azami is a GhostWalker. She’s one of us and more than that, she’s the one for me. I want you to know that up front. That’s how certain I am of her.”
“And you don’t think that there’s a possibility that you’re blinded by your feelings for her? You just met her. Don’t you think that happened just a little too fast?”
Azami winced. She knew what Ryland was implying. Whitney had somehow managed to pair them together. She kept her head down, long lashes covering her eyes to prevent anyone from seeing distress that might show.
“So how did that work out for you, Ryland?” Sam demanded. He looked around the table. “For any of you with a wife?” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I don’t much care if Whitney paired me with Azami or not, although I don’t see how he could have, but I know she fits with me. There isn’t a doubt in my mind.”
Azami shook her head. As much as she wanted Sam for herself, she couldn’t let him sacrifice. “Let’s slow down. There’s something else you should know, something that may be very pertinent to how you’re feeling right now, Sam.” Her lungs felt squeezed for air, but she had to be fair to him.
“I don’t need to know anything else, Azami,” Sam assured.
The tears burned again and she blinked rapidly, her throat clogging for a moment.
“You might not need to know anything else,” Ryland said. “But I do. Please continue, Azami.”
It was a major concession that he’d used her first name again. His voice had been filled with warning to Sam. She rested her hand over his, a very light measure of caution beneath the table. She didn’t want him to get into trouble with his unit, at least not before he heard what she had to say.
“Whitney’s pairings so far have seemed to fit. I speculated that perhaps that was part of his psychic gift and he clearly has one. Those of you I’ve tried to study a bit seem very grounded by one another, but none of you have been placed in a position that might cause you to do something you don’t want to do.”
“What do you mean?” Ryland asked.
“Suppose you had to make a choice between your wife and your son?”
“There would be no question. My wife would expect me to choose my son. He’s a child who needs help and guidance and love right now. If she suddenly went crazy and wanted to get rid of him, which is what you seem to be implying, then of course I would protect my child.”
Azami didn’t try to hide her relief. “Violet Smythe-Freeman didn’t.”
“She has a child?” Ryland looked around the table at his men. “Are you certain?”
“She aborted the child at Whitney’s demand. And she killed Senator Freeman. He was scheduled for the operation. They had taken him to do the surgery at the hospital and Whitney insisted on seeing Violet. They met at a small private airport. He was alone with her for several hours in a hangar. There appeared to be some sort of field surgery set up in the hangar, but my informant only caught a glimpse of the inside. When she emerged, she appeared different, very submissive toward Whitney, yet flirtatious. She boarded her plane and went straight to the hospital and pulled the plug on the senator, and then insisted on an abortion.”
Ryland frowned. “You believe he paired her with a second man and she immediately killed the senator and his unborn child? She was completely loyal to Freeman. She betrayed all the women in the compound in order to secure an alliance with Whitney.”
“Senator Freeman had no psychic ability. His child would be worthless to Whitney,” Azami pointed out. “Violet is well entrenched in the political arena. She’s intelligent and personable if a bit cold. The camera loves her and there’s talk of her running in the senator’s place. A weeping widow who valiantly fought for her brain-dead husband, trying to find a way to save him, would definitely look good in front of a camera. And her voice is enhanced.”
“Who was she paired with?” Ryland asked.
Azami shook her head. “My informant doesn’t know. Violet was groomed to take a political position in Washington. Whitney wanted her in the White House. The senator was supposed to be the vice president. Violet would have continued to have a great deal of influence. If she is elected to a senatorial position and her loyalty is to Whitney, can you imagine how he could use her to influence his programs?”
Ryland sat up straight, comprehension dawning. “You think Violet Freeman is paired to Whitney himself.”
CHAPTER 11
There was a small silence while the men seated at the table absorbed the idea. Whitney paired, perhaps married to a U. S. senator. What kind of carte blanche would he have for his experiments? The idea was daunting.
“Who is your informant?”
Sam threaded his fingers through Azami’s and held her hand under the table. He wanted to brush his mouth across her knuckles just to show her none of the thing
s she said mattered. He wasn’t afraid of anything Whitney might have done to pair them together. He didn’t see how the man could have, not when Azami hadn’t seen Whitney since she was eight and he had joined the GhostWalker program a few years ago.
“You know I can’t give you that information any more than you’d give it to me,” Azami told Ryland. “You can choose to believe me or not, but the point is, once Whitney got his hands on Violet again, she ceased to be loyal to Freeman.”
Ryland sat back in his chair, assessing Azami for a long time. Sam knew that look. The man respected her, even liked her and was beginning to believe her. “I don’t believe Violet was ever loyal to Freeman. She might have been paired physically with him, but she wants power. She craves it like a drug. Freeman was a means to that power and she obviously controlled him. From all accounts, Violet was different from the other women from your childhood. She wanted status with Whitney and did whatever it took to get it. The more she climbed that ladder, the more power she wanted. Freeman wasn’t a man she fell in love with. The power was what she loved. For a while there she believed she could break away from Whitney and get the things she wanted. If he paired her with him, that allegiance is all about what she can get and the status she can achieve. If you’re right, Azami, she believes she’ll eventually end up in the White House.”
Azami’s breath left her lungs in a little rush. Sam resisted pulling her into his arms to hold her close to him when he heard that soft sound of relief. Ryland had given her the reassurance that Sam couldn’t. The GhostWalkers, paired by Whitney or not, loved one another and still, under even extreme circumstances, would choose to take the honorable path.
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