GhostWalkers 10 - Samurai Game

knew it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight. Just changing position took his breath away. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and waited until his vision cleared. His mouth still felt parched, as if he could never again get enough to drink. Breathing deeply, he put a little weight on his feet. The room spun, receded, and righted itself slowly. Gritting his teeth, he stood.
    Black swirled in front of his eyes. White stars shot straight at him, great comets soaring and rolling. His stomach lurched. He’d been shot more than once. Knifed twice. He’d even had a brief stint with electric shock, but he’d never felt quite so weak. Was that the loss of blood or the crash after using Zenith? Good question for the doc. He forced more air into his lungs and waited for the world to right itself because there was no way he was crawling back into bed.
    It took a few minutes for his legs to gain strength. The pain in his abdomen was easy enough to push aside, but the invading weakness wasn’t as cooperative. He took slow steps over to the bathroom, grateful the distance wasn’t far. He had to breathe deeply with every step and stop twice. Sam cursed under his breath. By the time he entered the war room with his team, he had to get this under control. It didn’t help that his body broke out in a sweat and small beads dotted his skin.
    Cold water helped. He took a brief, cool shower, takingcare not to disturb the glue holding him together, sitting on the chair someone had thoughtfully provided for him. They’d all had their share of wounds, so it wasn’t hard to try to figure out what a fellow wounded soldier might need. He sank back onto the bed and rested before he attempted to dress, but at least the lurching stomach and sweats had receded. His knees weren’t nearly as wobbly. He didn’t bother with shoes—bending over was too difficult to contemplate. He was a little proud of himself for walking in a straight line down the center of the hall without staggering or even listing to one side.
    Sam pushed open the door to the war room. The large table was circled with his team members, who all looked up, various expressions on their faces. Most relieved, some a little shocked, and his captain openly scowled at him. Tucker and Gator, his two best friends, both grinned at him. Tucker jumped up to shadow him back to the table, ensuring he wouldn’t fall on his face and humiliate himself. Everyone, including Sam, knew what was coming.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Sam,” Ryland demanded, bringing knowing grins to everyone’s face. “If my wife finds you up, she’ll skin both of us alive.”
    Tucker’s grin widened.
    Sam shrugged. “She knows.”
    “Didn’t you need another blood transfusion this morning?” Tucker asked, a hint of innocence in his question.
    Sam knew there was nothing at all innocent about the inquiry. He was deliberately stirring the pot—which meant Ryland.
    Sam shot him a look that promised retaliation. “Go to hell, Tucker.”
    Raul “Gator” Fontenot nudged Kadan. “He looks a bit like a ghost, don’ you think?”
    Sam tried his famous stare down, but truthfully, his legs felt a little rubbery. He pulled out a chair and allowed himself to drop into it, stretching his legs out in front of him toease his protesting body. More than anything, he wanted to ask about Azami. How was she? Was she still in the compound? Did they have the Yoshiie family under house arrest? Had anyone questioned her regarding her psychic capabilities? What about the second-generation Zenith?
    It was impossible to lie in bed and wonder what was going on with her. He woke up thinking about her, and dreamt about her when he wasn’t having nightmares, but he damn well wasn’t asking—not them and not Lily. Not anyone who would notice it was entirely out of character for Sam to make inquiries about a woman.
    “Sam.” Ryland didn’t have a “reasonable” voice, not when it came to his men—or his wife’s or son’s health. “Get your ass back to bed.”
    “I can’t do that, sir. I need to report. If the Yoshiies are still in the compound . . .” That was a blatant fishing trip, and he waited patiently for Ryland to bite.
    Ryland’s scowl deepened. “If I needed you to report on the Yoshiies, I would have been at your bedside demanding a report. They rested the first day and they’ve been shown around the compound. Lily’s been handling that.”
    “You showed them around?”