Samurai Game (GhostWalkers #10)(31)
Author: Christine Feehan

This time she initiated leaving the surgical tent. She couldn’t breathe in there. Tucker and the redheaded man followed her out. She got as far as the trees on shaking legs and stopped, leaning against a solid trunk and drawing in breath.

“Are you armed?” Tucker asked.

Her eyebrow shot up. “Of course I’m armed. I’m Daiki Yoshiie’s bodyguard. He’s had more threats against him than your president. I have permits to carry weapons, even in your country.” She spoke with great dignity, pitching her voice low, as if his question was totally ludicrous. She wasn’t altogether certain what she would do if he commanded her to surrender her weapons. And no way was she going to submit to a search.

“You brought down the helicopter.”

Tucker made it more of a statement than a question. She supposed he knew because Sam didn’t carry a bow and arrows and he must have received a report from whoever was cleaning up the bodies.

She didn’t blink. Didn’t show emotion. “It was necessary for our survival.”

Tucker pulled a water bottle from his pack. “You must be thirsty.”

She regarded the proffered bottle carefully. They were still treating her as a guest, yet her guard, the redheaded soldier, was definitely on alert. His gaze hadn’t left her no matter what was going on around him.

“Thank you.” She took the bottle and indicated the soldier. “Is he assigned to make certain I don’t go crazy and kill everyone here?” She injected a faint note of humor into her voice.

Tucker gave her an easy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “This was a very coordinated and well-planned attack on your brother and perhaps you as well. Sam was assigned to keep you safe. Ian McGillicuddy has that honor now.”

She turned and smiled at McGillicuddy. He was a big man, his red hair spilling across his forehead and his green eyes piercing and intelligent. He was guarding her all right, but it wasn’t necessarily to keep her safe. She saluted him with the water bottle and took a long, cooling drink.

McGillicuddy nodded, but he didn’t smile and he didn’t take his eyes from her.

“Sam said my brothers are safe. I hope they’re under a tight guard.”

“Yes, of course. Kadan and Nico have them inside the compound. It’s a fortress. No one can get to them there,” Tucker said.

The concentrated smell of blood made her stomach lurch—an unusual reaction, so it had to be the aftermath of her memories bombarding her. She hoped that door was firmly closed. Glancing toward the tent, she didn’t try to keep the worry from her face.

“I thought it was a through and through and that he’d be fine.”

“You couldn’t have known. Sam’s tough,” Tucker added. “Once he went back twice for wounded and no one realized he’d been shot twice himself. We didn’t know until he was in the helicopter heading home and he just sort of passed out. That’s Sam.”

She liked Tucker all the more for the genuine respect and affection in his voice. “He was extremely efficient in the firefight. We were greatly outnumbered. The enemy spoke in English, Spanish, and Farsi. Two of the soldiers were murdered by their own people, presumably to keep them from talking.”

“The bullets were concentrated in the mouth, destroying teeth and faces. Soldiers must have mopped up after your kills, making certain to slow down identification. Have there been specific threats against your family?” Tucker asked.

“There are always threats.” Thorn looked around for a place to sit. Her legs were beginning to get a little strength in them, but she knew she needed recovery time. “I’d like to sit down if you don’t mind.” She said it more for McGillicuddy’s benefit than for Tucker’s. She didn’t want to make any sudden moves and have the man shoot her. She forced her legs to work—to glide soundlessly through the vegetation until she found a suitable spot to sink onto the ground gracefully.

“I’m sorry,” Tucker said immediately, looking remorseful. “I should have found you somewhere comfortable right away.”

“I think we both had other things on our minds,” Thorn said truthfully. “The adrenaline’s wearing off.”

“We can get you back up to the compound if you’re anxious to see your brothers.” Tucker sounded reluctant but willing.

Thorn didn’t blame him. Clearly he wanted to make certain Sam remained alive. She shook her head, sending him a quick smile. “I think I’ll stick around. You know how it is. When you’re in combat with someone, you get close fast. He was pretty amazing. I want to know firsthand that he’s going to make it.”

“Are you telepathic?”

The question was so casual, the tone equally so, that for a moment it almost didn’t register. Tucker Addison was very smooth at interrogation without seeming to be. He acted as if he was making innocent conversation. Thorn took her time, fussing with the pins in her hair, restoring a semblance of order as she looked up toward the blue sky. Night was still a few hours off, but the wind was picking up, blowing a few clouds overhead.

“Yes. I haven’t spoken to another telepath since my childhood.” That was strictly honest. “I found it exhilarating, shocking, and a little frightening that Sam had such a strong ability. I could hear him when he spoke to me.” She flashed a small smile and reached for a leaf, examining the thin veins running through it. “The gift came in quite handy during the battle.”

“Why wouldn’t Sam let Lily put him under?” Tucker crouched down opposite her, his gaze intent on her face.

Thorn shrugged. It was always better to stick as close to the truth as possible. “He was worried about me. We fought together, and I think he believed I was his responsibility—at least that’s what it felt like to me. He stepped between me and the soldiers several different times. I told him I was fine and that I’d stay close. That seemed to satisfy him.”

She was back to the game of wits, and her confidence was coming back. She knew how to be Azami Yoshiie, inside and out. She was samurai through and through. Her father’s daughter. That eight-year-old child, with all of her insecurities and terrible memories, was locked behind the door. Azami just had to keep her there.

So far, Tucker was making polite conversation, slipping in a clever question every now and then, but he hadn’t asked the significant question—where had she gotten second-generation Zenith. It wasn’t on the market as of yet. No one should know about it. So how had she? And how had she acquired it? Good questions that would require real answers. She knew he would wait until she was inside the compound where the GhostWalker teams would easily have the upper hand.