Samurai Game (GhostWalkers #10)(13)
Author: Christine Feehan

The wash from the helicopter struck Sam before the overgrown dragonfly came dancing through the sky. The door was open and a man crouched just inside, an automatic weapon cradled in his arms. The pilot was skilled, maneuvering through the heavy canopy to give his gunner the best advantage.

Azami calmly let her arrow fly, sending it on its way and instantly following with a second so fast the two shots were nearly simultaneous. The first arrow went through the throat of the gunner, and the second took the pilot through his eye. At once the helicopter lurched like a giant wounded bird.

Sam wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Teleportation was something he’d studied and tried to understand on an intellectual level. He had taken part in the research and knew there were several studies under way—including at Samurai Telecommunications—that were on the verge of discovering just how it all could be done, but not with a human being. In theory, the person teleporting would be reproduced and then destroyed while his copy ended up somewhere else. He knew how it worked on things, transporting particles, but not how he was able to do it so smoothly. He no longer cared about the how—maybe he could really move faster than light and he simply appeared to teleport.

Sam projected his body to that spot directly behind the man at the rear of the vehicle. The mercenary’s attention was directed to the sky, his eyes wide with shock, his fingers around his gun without a real understanding of what just happened. Sam gripped the mercenary’s head in two very large, strong hands and wrenched, dropping him onto the ground, neck broken. Another burst of speed had him behind the man who had stepped out on the passenger side. Sam used a knife, dragging him backward, lowering him to the ground, and moving once more.

To move numerous times with that burst of speed was dangerous, causing his stomach to churn and his mind to go fuzzy around the edges. He’d made two kills before the helicopter had even begun to spin out of control. He came up behind the third soldier fast, grasping his head and giving him a quick, decisive jerk. He had always been abnormally strong, and the enhancements as well as his physical training had added to his natural strength. He dropped the dead man and crouched low just as Azami’s third arrow took the driver straight through his neck. The Jeep rocketed forward as the dead man’s foot stomped down hard, slamming into the tree ahead.

The chopper came down with the sound of metal grinding and men screaming. Still in a crouch, Sam looked down the slope to Azami. His vision was blurred and his head screaming at him.

“You’re damned good with that bow.”

She bowed slightly. “A little known fact—samurai were renowned with bows and arrows long before the sword. And there were female samurai, some very famous.”

“I have your father to thank,” he guessed.

“That you do.” Her eyebrow rose slightly. “You’re pretty fast. I didn’t even see you make your move on them and that’s unusual for me.”

“You were fairly occupied making certain you took out the helicopter—and thank you for that.”

She nodded solemnly. “You’re very welcome.”

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” he said. A second vehicle was close.

“That’s stating the obvious,” Azami flashed a small smile and deliberately looked around at the thick forest of trees.

He found himself smiling to himself with grudging respect in spite of the situation as he crouched down beside the last man he’d killed. She was a woman to stand and fight with a man, not run when there was adversity or danger. And why the hell had that thought crossed his mind? Her scent was driving him crazy, even there, out in the open.

“I don’t recognize any of them,” he said. “No IDs on them, but they look like typical mercs to me. Guns for hire. Have you seen them before?”

Thorn made her way to Sam’s side, careful to stay in the brush as much as possible. She studied each face of the fallen men carefully as Sam quickly searched for any means of identification. She noted that he passed the face of his watch over the bodies but also the vehicle and license plate.

“I don’t recognize them either. If they were looking to kidnap my brother, they certainly went about it wrong.”

“Have there been threats?”

“There are always threats against Daiki and the company,” Thorn said.

Each time Sam’s eyes met hers, she felt a peculiar brushing of butterfly wings in her stomach. Very light, but the sensation made it difficult to breathe. She loved his dark eyes and the way his gaze drifted over her almost like the lightest touch of fingers. “Nothing stood out lately that made either Eiji or me become more concerned than usual. Perhaps the threat was to you.”

She tested him to see his reaction but instantly realized the speculation was a mistake. Those dark eyes jumped to her face with far too much intelligence in them. Worse, he seemed to take her breath away, leaving her feeling as if every last bit of air had rushed from her lungs.

“Why would you think that? I’m a soldier, nothing special. I don’t have a reputation for creating the most superior satellite and software in the world. I can imagine dozens of countries as well as drug cartels and terrorist organizations very interested in acquiring your brother, but there isn’t anyone who would have a reason to come after me.”

Azami followed him away from the fallen mercenaries, noticing they were still moving away from her brothers and the other GhostWalkers. Her mind raced with the possibilities of how the attack had occurred. It was too much of a coincidence to think that Daiki wasn’t targeted. The newest satellite software, audio, and lens was light-years ahead of the competition and Daiki was reputed to be the developer. It made perfect sense that he would be in danger. They had discussed that fact at great length, Daiki and Eiji persuading her that because of her past and the job they all knew they would ultimately undertake, it would be better to keep her out of the spotlight. She had agreed.

More than once, there had been attempts to hack into their computers. Thieves had tried breaking into their building and infiltrating their ranks numerous times. This attack on them might not have anything at all to do with Whitney. He had no idea she was alive. He hadn’t even bothered with the tracking device she knew he’d placed in many of the other girls. She hadn’t been important enough to track. She’d been nothing but garbage to him and he’d thrown her out.

Sam puzzled over Azami. She appeared completely serene in the midst of blood and death, but she wasn’t. He couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong any more than he could have explained why he was so certain that it was Azami Yoshiie and not either of her brothers who was the most intelligent, the most dangerous, and the leader of the three, but his gut never lied to him.