GhostWalkers 10 - Samurai Game

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 inWhitney’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 check, 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