GhostWalkers 10 - Samurai Game

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 turbulentand 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