GhostWalkers 10 - Samurai Game

Sam’s heart jumped and settled into a normal beat. He took a slow, careful look around. There was an overwhelming relief that Azami was still close and that he would see her again. There was also guilt that he felt that way when he was more than certain that something was a little off about the Yoshiie family. More, there was that peculiar rush of adrenaline he got when he knew he was in a battle of wits, which only added to his alarm.
    “Ian’s been watching them. They’ve been under guard every moment. In any case, we’re purchasing the satellite. They need access to our computers.”
    “Have they been in this room?” Sam asked.
    Ryland got it. He’d always been an intelligent man. He sat up very straight, every bit of casual ease gone from his body language, revealing the dedicated soldier. “They’vebeen working a good portion of this week to set things up. What is it, Sam?”
    What could he say? That Ian couldn’t possibly guard Azami and keep her under a watchful eye?
    “I don’t know about the other two, but Azami has skills. Gifts. She’s every bit as talented psychically as any one of us in this room—maybe more so.”
    Ryland nodded, visibly relaxing. “She admitted as much to us. As all of us had natural psychic talents and we know they exist, Lily says it isn’t surprising to find such gifts in others who haven’t been enhanced.”
    Sam nodded. It made sense. The members of the team came from different backgrounds, as did the other teams, so of course they couldn’t be the only ones in the world with developed psychic gifts. He was a little surprised that Azami had admitted to her abilities. She had fought beside him bravely, revealing extraordinary psychic gifts that she had to know might put the sale of the satellite in jeopardy—might even put her life at risk—yet she hadn’t hesitated. He couldn’t help but respect and admire her.
    And want her. You want her for yourself, Sam.
He admitted the truth. He’d never wanted a woman for himself before. He felt tremendous affection for the wives of the various members of the GhostWalker teams, and each was quite different in personality, but none of them would suit him. He was very driven at all times. He needed mental and physical stimulation and there was no doubt Azami was that woman.
    But was she his enemy? He just couldn’t quite get over that small nagging doubt in his mind that she was one of them—a GhostWalker—which meant she was as enhanced as they were. If she was enhanced, if she had been one of Whitney’s experiments, what was she doing in their compound, and why didn’t any of the other GhostWalkers recognize her when all of them could feel the subtle differences in energy that identified one another?
    He looked around at his teammates. Clearly none of themwere worried about the Yoshiies moving around the compound. He wanted to relax a little, but the tension refused to dissipate. Still, they’d had a day or so to further investigate Azami and her brothers. He had to think about things a little more. Get a few more pieces before he made up his mind one way or the other. He definitely had more of a nagging doubt about the Yoshiies—Azami in particular—than any of the other GhostWalkers, and they were all sharp and gifted. Maybe he didn’t trust his strange, almost overwhelming attraction to her.
    “So who the hell shot me? What have you found out so far?” he demanded. “And did anyone bother to retaliate for me?”
    Ryland laughed. “You bloodthirsty animal. I think you did enough retaliating of your own. Do you have any idea what the body count was?”
    “They attacked me,” Sam said righteously. “They should have stayed the hell home.”
    Tucker nudged him. “If anyone made it home, I’d have to say they probably wished they’d never left in the first place. You’re a monster, Sam.”
    “Who?” Sam insisted.
    “We’re still working on it. The moment we have any IDs or we know the entry points into the country, I’ll brief everyone,” Ryland said.
    “
Two
helicopters, Rye. They had to come from somewhere and they had to land somewhere. Fuel is always a problem,” Sam felt compelled to point out. They’d
shot
him.
    “They put down at an abandoned airstrip not far from here. It was part of a private estate that’s been on the market for several years. We’ll find them. We’re on their trail and when we do, we’ll know who sent them.”
    Sam knew he had to be content with that much.