GW10 Samurai Game

by Christine Feehan

  Azami put her hand on Lily’s shoulder. “You know he isn’t the man you loved anymore, Lily. You’ve got to accept that. He’s changed, gone a little mad . . .”

  “Or maybe a lot.”

  Azami nodded. “The point is, once you can accept that he isn’t that man you love, you can get past this. Then he becomes the enemy and you have to see him that way. What if he’s standing between you and your child?”

  Lily pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I just can’t believe that he would hurt Daniel. What would be the point?”

  “Dissecting him to see what makes Daniel tick.” Azami hardened her heart. Lily had to understand the true danger. The men surrounding her buffered her from the things her father did. “Right now your husband and Sam have been left in hostile territory on Whitney’s order.” She glanced around and unbuttoned her shirt. “He did this to me when I was three. These scars were acquired before the age of three.”

  She let Lily look her fill, her features twisted with horror, her eyes wide with shock. “He did that to you when you were a child?”

  “My hair came in white,” Azami said. She touched her hair a little self consciously. “There’s a hell of a lot more, but the point is, pick up a gun and shoot the bastard if he gets near your son.”

  Lily swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll do what I have to do, Azami. They aren’t coming into my home and trying to steal my son, or Briony’s for that matter. I’ll defend this place.”

  Azami buttoned her shirt. “Let’s get to it then. Who’s running the show?”

  “Ian’s in the war room now. I’m a strong telepath so I’ll build a bridge to anyone who isn’t,” Lily said.

  “You’ll have to give Eiji and Daiki radios. I brought small ones for them. No one will pick up fifteen second transmissions. If anyone gets near the tunnels, which I doubt, or near Mari, they’ll take care of it,” Azami said with complete confidence.

  She hurried in to find Ian directing his small army on the defense of both compounds.

  “They’ll come at us in small groups,” Ian said. “Whitney doesn’t want the babies harmed, so I’m guessing they’ll try stealth to infiltrate. They have no idea we were warned that they’re coming. They think a sweet bunch of ladies are here all alone.”

  “They’ve got another think coming,” Flame, Gator’s wife, said, with an indignant toss of her head. “Whitney always underestimates women.” She had thick, wine red hair and vivid green eyes sparkling with something between mischief and determination.

  “He thinks you’re all flawed because most of you have problems with psychic overload,” Lily pointed out. “He has no idea we’ve been working on that. I’ll be with you, Dahlia. You have the most difficult time. Briony will be in the tunnels. She has a terrible problem when there’s violence, but she’ll defend the babies if she has no other choice.” She looked at Azami. “Just as I will.”

  “I’ll be of more use to you outside,” Azami said.

  “Me too,” Saber Calhoun, Jesse Calhoun’s wife, said. She was a small woman, extremely slight, looking more like a child than a grown woman. She had a cap of dark hair and large, violet blue eyes. She pressed her lips tight together and then looked Azami straight in the eye. “Do you remember me?” She swallowed hard, but refused to look away. “I practiced stopping hearts on you when you were just a toddler. Your hair was white when you were a child, but I’d know your eyes anywhere.”

  Azami nodded solemnly. “I remember. Every one of us had to do things we didn’t want to do. I’m glad to see you made it out of there. You were always kind to me.”

  “I didn’t feel kind,” Saber admitted. “I hated those days he would force me to work on you. I tried so hard to make him stop, but the more I protested, the worse he got. We all thought he killed you.”

  “Apparently I don’t die so easy. He thinks I’m dead, and I’d prefer it stays that way,” Azami said.

  “Ladies.” Ian snapped his fingers. “Do you think we could conduct old home week a little later? We’ve got this little problem happening right now.”

  “Don’t sweat it, Ian,” Flame said. “These guys won’t know what hit them.”

  He glared at her. “Do you plan on talking them to death? Damn, woman. You’re giving me gray hair.”

  She looked him over judiciously. “You could use a little color there, Irishman. You’re sort of bland.”

  Ian’s face went as red as his hair. All the women burst out laughing. He groaned and wiped his hand down his face. “There is clearly a breakdown of discipline in this room.”

  The women burst out laughing again.

  “Once you give women guns, Ian,” Jesse Calhoun pointed out, “all bets are off. You be careful out there. Take a couple of weapons with you.”

  Saber leaned over and kissed him. “You take care as well. Don’t be a hero.”

  “Stay to the north side,” Ian cautioned. “If for any reason you come around to any other side, let us know, so no one accidentally shoots you.” He glanced at Flame.

  She gave another toss of her head. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me. I’m proficient with weapons. Wanna see?”

  “Damn, woman, you’ve been living with that Cajun too long,” Ian said.

  She leaned in close. “It will never be long enough, Ian.”

  His blushed deepened. “Get out of here. And for God’s sake, don’t get shot or anything stupid like that. Gator would slice me into tiny pieces and feed me to the alligators.”

  “He might not do that, but he’d tell his grandmother on you and then no more free meals for you. She’s pretty crazy about me,” Flame teased.

  “Yeah, well,” Ian said gruffly, “all of you stick to the plan and we’ll get through this.”

  Azami smiled at the man. He was surrounded by women and definitely out of his depth. Some men had a deep need to protect their women; Ian was clearly a man like that. He felt affection, if not love, for some of these women, Flame in particular, probably because he was so close to Gator, and he didn’t like the situation much. He couldn’t argue; the women were definitely capable and more than determined to protect their homes in spite of the fact that Whitney’s experiments produced a few negative effects when around psychic energy overload.

  “We’ll be fine,” Lily said.

  Azami and Saber left the room together, falling into stealth mode, almost without conscious thought. They moved in silence, even in the halls, Azami pausing for a moment to retrieve the weapons she’d stashed when Lily had come to talk to her.

  “I’m happy you’re here, Thorn … Azami,” Saber corrected. “I’ve thought about you nearly every day. I prayed you were alive and happy somewhere. I used to make up stories to comfort myself. I’ve had a lot of nightmares,” she admitted.

  Azami glanced at her as they slipped out the door and hurried into the woods. “I did have a great life. I was adopted by a wonderful man. He gave me two great brothers, a home, and a purpose. He trained, educated, and treated me with love and kindness. I’m guessing that’s a lot better than most of the girls had.”

  “I wish I’d been a little older and could have stood up to him better,” Saber said.

  “My father once said to me, there is no use wishing away your past. Experiences shape us and build us into who we are. He always told me that it was my past that made me strong. He told me it is always best to live in the moment.”

  “Your father sounds like a very wise man,” Saber said.

  “He was. I wish Sam could have met him.”

  “Sam Johnson?” Saber stopped, crouching low in the brush. “You and Sam?”

  Azami nodded.

  They’re making their way up the north side, a four man team, Lily reported.

  Azami heard the whispers in her mind as Lily told each of the groups of defenders where the small four man teams were invading the two compounds. She pushed the sound to the back of her mind so she could be “in the moment” completely. She signaled Saber to her left,
and Saber virtually disappeared into the brush.

  Azami listened for the sound of the men moving toward them, fanned out, expecting to come up on a sleeping compound. These were Whitney’s private army, growing smaller with each encounter with GhostWalkers, according to her informant. She was determined that these four men who had come to kidnap the infants would not be returning. Eventually Whitney was going to find himself without too many friends and then, for the first time, he’d truly be vulnerable.

  A radio muttered and she heard the command. “Get the thermite in place.”

  Lily, tell everyone that they plan to blow up some of the houses as a distraction, Azami reported. The assault wasn’t going to be on the two main gathering buildings, but on some of the outlying buildings probably to draw off anyone left at the two compounds.

  The night was dark, swirling clouds blotting out any semblance of moon. The wind tugged at her face, cool, reminding her that fall was creeping toward winter and up in the mountains, it got cold. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Saber go prone, wiggling beneath the brush into a small animal trail. One touch of Saber’s hand and she could disturb a man’s heart, disrupt it enough to actually kill him. Azami certainly knew what it felt like. Her heart actually jumped at the memory—and it wasn’t the same heart.

  She shook off her past. Her father was right. She had to be in the present, and thinking about something she had no control over did her no good at all. One enemy at a time. She heard a small rustle and then a murmur as the man approaching just to her right spoke into his radio in a soft voice, telling his leader he was in position and ready to invade the house. He was a good distance away, but clearly he expected to ease his way through the trees and rush to cover across the open space as soon as the explosions started. She expected fireworks, but it wouldn’t be the same ones Whitney’s men expected.

  She waited, patient and still. To her left, in the direction Saber had taken, she heard a thud. Branches snapped. Her target turned his head toward the sound. Before he could say anything into his radio, she put an arrow through his heart. He went down gracefully, slumping over, still clutching his weapon.

  In the distance, toward Team Two’s compound, she heard gunfire. Bright, orange red flames danced, the night suddenly glowing from somewhere to the front of the main structure she was guarding. A fireball whooshed through the air, like a bright comet. Nico’s wife, Dahlia, defending her home.

  Azami moved to her right, falling back a little, to stay in front of the soldier making his way toward the helicopter hangar, determined to destroy the GhostWalkers’ compound. Her home. She would be living here with these people who were like her, who could accept her differences. No one was touching her home.

  She heard him coming almost before she could get set. She had no time to get out of his way. He was of medium build and moved easily through the forest, with hardly a whisper of a sound. He parted a bush and was face-to-face with her. She stepped into him, shoving his gun up as she drove the knife deep into his chest. His finger closed on the trigger and the gun roared in her ear, but his body was already slumping to the ground. He had one arm around her, and the deadweight nearly pulled her down.

  Saber emerged from the bushes, twigs and leaves in her hair. She had a gun in her hand and fire in her eyes. Visibly relaxing, she helped Azami shove Whitney’s man aside. In every direction, they could hear the firefight raging.

  “You okay?” Saber asked.

  Azami nodded. “You?”

  Saber took a breath. “Yeah. I guess so. I really did promise myself I wouldn’t do this again, but no one is going to take the babies from us. They aren’t going to live the life we did. I got two of them.”

  “I’m with you,” Azami agreed. “And I also managed to get two. That should be the four man team.”

  They did a quick reconnaissance of the area.

  Clear, moving around to the west, Azami reported.

  Negative, Lily said. The boys are making a sweep, but we think we’re good. They didn’t get near either house. Poor Mari was really hoping someone would walk through her door. Come on in.

  They walked together, keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings, just in case someone had been missed.

  “Did you have a difficult time trusting Lily?” Azami asked Saber.

  Saber glanced at her. “At first,” she answered honestly. “But she’s shared all of her money to build these compounds and to make each GhostWalker independently wealthy. She’s worked tirelessly to help those of us who aren’t anchors be able to just walk down a street without freaking out. She’s solidly on our side, Azami. I think all of us not only love her but have developed a very large protective streak where she’s concerned.”

  Azami smiled at her. The hint of warning was subtle, but there. “I absolutely hear what you’re saying, Saber, and I can understand it,” she agreed mildly. “I’m planning on making this my home, so she’ll have one more person looking out for her.”

  Saber’s smile was relieved. “I’m glad you’ll be here. I missed you. You were more like family to me than anyone. I have Jesse now, the GhostWalkers, and Jesse’s family. I sometimes pinch myself to make certain I’m not in a fairy tale. He built a house for his sister, Patsy, right near ours.”

  “I am so looking forward to Sam coming home,” Azami admitted. “I try not to worry about him, but I can’t help it. I found myself wanting to contact him via satellite just to make certain he’s alive and well.”

  Saber laughed. “Let’s get inside and let the boys handle the rest of this. We can have tea and have a nice long visit. I want you to meet Jesse.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Debriefing was a lot of bullshit. Sam wanted to leap out of his seat and go find his woman. He’d never actually had a woman to come home to, and now that he did, he had to sit like a kindergartener, wiggling around his chair, anxious to see her—inspect her—and make certain she didn’t have so much as a scratch on her. Fucking Whitney, attacking the compound when there were just a few men and women to defend it. She wasn’t hurt . . .

  “Sam, you with us?” Ryland asked.

  He wasn’t the only one with a wife. Ryland had to be just as anxious. His son had been a target. He scowled at Ryland.

  “He’s got ants in his pants.” Tucker snickered.

  “He’s got somethin’ in his pants,” Gator mocked, shoving at Sam’s boot with his foot. “And I don’ think it’s ants.”

  “Go to hell,” Sam said good-naturedly. “Like all of you aren’t just as antsy.”

  Ryland sighed. “Our women fought off Whitney’s men while we were in the field. It’s getting a little old.” He looked at Sam. “Get out of here.” And I want a full briefing from her later.

  Sam’s nod was barely perceptible. He leapt out of the chair and rushed from the room, an arrow shot out of a bow. Laughter followed him, but he didn’t give a damn. Nothing mattered but to get to her. Azami. His. He still didn’t really believe she would be there. He kept expecting to wake up and find she was a dream—or that she’d come to her senses and run back to Japan where her life would make much more sense than his world did.

  He sprinted out of the house, to the trail at the back leading into the woods. His five acres were to the west, and he rarely used a vehicle to travel the distance. He had worn a faint path in through the woods. When he wanted to go fast, he often teleported to keep in practice, and that’s what he did now, setting his destination for just outside his home. He wanted to feel that amazing feeling she’d given him just days earlier of coming home. He needed to see the house lit up, telling him she was inside and waiting for him.

  Dark clouds churned and spun overhead. Leaves on the trees swayed while some danced through the air with the wind, swirling their way to earth. The trees rose up like giant stick figures, branches reaching out, slowly shedding leaves as the season changed. A bite of cold touched his skin, but no matter how cold it was, nothing could stop the heat spreading through his body at the sight of those Jap
anese lanterns bobbing up and down the small stream running beside his house, the warm glow lighting the way home.

  He stood on the worn path, his heart pounding, love flooding his mind. Azami. Sliding into his mind, holding him close. Her happiness spilled into him, filling him, driving out loneliness and doubts. She stood framed in the doorway, flickering candles dancing behind her, silhouetting her there in the dark. She wore only a short silken robe, her slender legs bare. Her hair fell in a silken waterfall around her face to spill to her waist. Her robe was open, exposing that wondrous, almost luminous spiderweb wrapping around all that bare skin. He really, really wanted to tattoo a couple more spiders to mark his favorite spots on her.

  He walked slowly up to the house, his heart in his throat, his pulse pounding, savoring the feeling of coming home to her. Her dark eyes shone like a cat’s in the night, a glitter of excitement—her heart in her eyes. Those extraordinary soft lips were parted as if she was a little breathless. She was so beautiful to him his chest hurt. A lump formed unexpectedly in his throat, threatening to choke him.

  He wanted to feel love and he knew she was the one who would show him how. In his life, he had pushed aside his own needs, his own desires until Azami. He wanted to know love at its deepest, most profound, most elemental level. He needed Azami to give him everything, and from the look in her eyes, there was no doubt that she intended to do just that.

  The moment he set his foot onto the porch, she launched herself at him. He caught her in midflight, drawing her into him. Her legs clamped around his waist and her arms circled his neck, her mouth settling on his. The world shifted and dropped away, as fire burst through his mouth, down his throat, and into his belly to race to his bloodstream, igniting an urgent need.

  Now. Right here. Don’t wait. I need you in me.

  Her soft plea took his sanity. There was nothing left in his mind but her. She was everywhere. In his mind, in his heart, wrapped around his very bones. He kissed her over and over, drinking her in, devouring her, while the fire just burned brighter and hotter. He dropped his hands to his jeans, thankful he’d managed a couple of showers on the way home to rid himself of the jungle grime.