"Tom Delaney," Tucker and Ian agreed simultaneously.
"We call him Shark," Gator confided.
"The new guy. We had a new addition to our team and he'd come along to learn the ropes, so to speak," Sam explained. "He'd been a GhostWalker for some time and had an impressive record, but none of us had worked with him before. We thought it was a get in and get out, no problem mission."
"Never been on one yet," Tucker said, "but I'm always hopeful."
"If it can go wrong," Jonas added, "it does."
"So we've got this new guy none of us are sure of," Sam continued. "He's leery. We're leery. We all think we just grab this Frenchman and get out of there fast, right? Except the Frenchman starts yelling and fighting. He kicked me. And he bit Tucker."
Instantly laughter erupted again.
Tucker looked wounded. "Seriously, ma'am, that bite hurt. He was truly vicious. Lily insisted on giving me a tetanus shot or something. With a needle." He shuddered dramatically.
"Poor baby," Sam soothed. Tucker had been wounded several times and he'd never made so much as a whimper. The idea of him whining over a needle was ludicrous--but funny. "Quit interrupting. We'd gotten into the house without anyone knowing and the idea was to get out the same way--like ghosts. That's what we do. But that Frenchman--and the weather--had other ideas. Apparently he'd been recruited in high school and once he'd gained a position in the government allowing him to feed the terrorists intel on the movement of money and weapons, he began to work in earnest. From what I understand, someone became suspicious and cut off his line of communication. Immediately the terrorists 'kidnapped' him, hoping that by doing so, they'd throw the government off the scent and they could use him if France ransomed him. Of course, we didn't know any of that; we just were sent to get him out."
"Freaky little bastard," Gator commented.
"The next thing we know, we've stirred up a hornet's nest and we've got everyone and their mothers shooting at us," Sam continued.
Azami raised her long lashes and looked at Sam, her eyes laughing and a little challenging. "So why did you really go into that bar?" she asked. "Because I don't believe you would do so unless you had no other choice."
There was a brief moment of silence. The men exchanged long, knowing grins.
"She's not so easy to put one over on, is she, Sam?" Ian asked.
Azami smiled at him, looking as serene and composed as ever. "You may joke all you like, but clearly you are professionals, and in the middle of a rescue mission during a hurricane, something very compelling would have to drive you to stop what you're doing and get trapped in a bar that was being decimated by the storm."
"True," Sam agreed, "but Ian really did notice the sign and we'd stopped for a second because the river had flooded and our escape route was cut off."
"The Frenchman made a run for it," Ian took up the story. "Straight into that bar. Bullets were flying, the river rising, and we had to make a quick decision--let him go or get him back."
"Hell no, he wasn't getting away," Sam said emphatically. "I thought about shooting him in the leg. But that little bastard was coming back with us, even if I had to carry him every step of the way."
"I can see you have a stubborn streak," Azami observed.
"Ha!" Ian agreed. "You don't know the half of it. He was going in after the Frenchman no matter what anyone said. I sure wasn't going to let him go alone."
Gator flashed a cocky grin. "Sam really did nearly shoot our runaway, but Ian jumped through that window after him and then it was on."
"And you all followed him, of course," Azami said.
"Well, ma'am," Jonas said. "There was liquor in there and no one was minding the bar. Ian is Irish. We had to make certain there was something left."
"We all had a mighty thirst after all that runnin' from those bullets, ma'am," Gator added.
"How did you get away from the crocodiles, or is that part of your embellishments?" Azami asked.
"Embellishments?" Ian said, astounded. "She's casting aspersions on our story, gentlemen. There were crocodiles swimming around inside and Gator was gyrating on the bar. Jonas managed to fall on the Frenchman, and I was in the water, my life in deadly peril. I hadn't even managed to grab hold of a bottle of good Irish whiskey and there I was about to die. No self-respecting Irishman would die without at least one drink."
"How terrible," Azami murmured in sympathy.
Ian nodded, much more pleased with her reaction. "Now you're beginning to understand the seriousness of the situation." He glared at his fellow teammates as they burst into laughter again.
"Tell me who this Shark is that came to your rescue," Azami prompted.
Sam started to reach out to take her hand and stopped himself. He had not asked for permission from her brothers and she'd told him a couple of times about public displays of affection. He sighed. He was going to have to find it in himself to keep his hands off of her, even when he seemed to need to touch her.
His eyes met hers and she smiled at him. Just for him. Her eyes warmed slowly, going from that cool darkness to molten heat.
I want to touch you. Skin to skin. The admitting of his secret need, even if it was only a whisper in her mind, made him feel closer to her.
Azami shifted again, a slight, subtle movement that put her even closer to the bed where he sat. Her bare arm slid against his, the merest of brushes, yet he felt her touch all the way to his bones, branding him hers.
"We call him Shark because he's good in water, ma'am," Tucker said.
Azami smiled at them, leaning against the bed, making the movement so natural Sam was certain no one would think twice about it. "Enough addressing me as ma'am. My brothers and I are quite fine with using the more personal first name. We don't find it insulting. Please call me Azami; I will consider it an honor."
Sam couldn't help but stare at her. She sounded so demure and sweet, her long lashes veiling her eyes, her lips both fascinating and alluring as she spoke.
Tucker nodded. "Azami, then. Shark's name is Tom. He recently joined our team and like we said, it was his first mission with us. We were still feeling our way with him. He didn't hesitate at all. He was in that water, swimming under the water to Sam and me. Ian was splashing like crazy and Gator was doing his wild Cajun thing to keep the crocodiles' attention focused on him while Shark worked to move that tree off of them."
"He had to breathe for us underwater. I'm good in the water and can stay down a long time, but not like Tom. He was all over it. Give us air, work on the tree, and give us more air until he had that sucker off of us. Ian kept splashing around and Gator kept up his crazy antics as bait and Jonas and Rye worked above the water to help lift the tree."
Azami pressed her lips together tightly, regarding Sam without speaking. She knew, in spite of all the joking and laughter, just how dangerous the situation had really been and how close Sam and Tucker had come to losing their lives.
This is the kind of work you like?
Sam nodded slowly. Does it bother you?
"What happened to the Frenchman? Did he get away?" Azami asked aloud.
I am samurai. I have chosen a life of honor. It's only fitting that the man I am considering sharing my life with would do so as well. I do not fear death and clearly you do not either. My father taught me never to fear death, but to live my life to the fullest, to embrace every moment as if it might be my last. My choice for a partner is one who lives his life in this way.
"Hell no, he didn't get away," Ian said. "We dragged him back with us and handed him over to the French. They were very glad to get him, and I believe they put him on trial for treason. He deserved whatever they threw at him."
There is no doubt in my mind, Azami, we belong. He no longer needed to touch her to know she was committed to him. Her warmth was in his mind, filling the lonely places.
He had lived on the streets, scrounging his way, one step ahead of the gangs and the pedophiles until he'd tried to steal a car with the idea of gett
ing out of the city. He had no plan at the time, only a desperate need to get away from where he was. General Ranier told him it was providence that he had tried to steal Ranier's car, allowing them to meet. Secretly, Sam didn't care what it was, only that they had met and the general had given him an education and a direction. Now there was Azami. She was his direction and the path seemed very clear to him.
"Uh-oh," Ian whispered, overly loud. "We're about to get busted."
Azami moved even closer to Sam, protectively, her body shielding his from the door. He had to smile. His woman wasn't going to sit peacefully in a corner in the face of a threat.
"It's Ryland," he said softly.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. The movement was graceful, a whisper of silk and sin, temptation in the form of long lashes and serenity masking fiery passion. His heart jumped toward hers. Azami smiled at him. Intimate. Only for him. Such a brief exchange, but it was enough to know she was his. All that she was, was his.
Ryland filled the doorway, his broad shoulders so wide they nearly took up the space entirely. In his arms, Daniel snuggled against him, alert, bright, ready to join in the fun with all of his uncles.
"Do you think you're making enough noise?" Ryland demanded. "It's the middle of the night, in case no one's noticed."
"Did we wake Daniel?" Ian asked, instantly concerned. He held out his arms to the boy. "Come here, my little man."
Daniel looked past Ian, his gaze clearly settling on Azami. He broke into a smile and instantly took his index fingers and hooked them together, signing "friend." He held out his arms toward her and nearly launched himself from Ryland's arms.
Azami took the boy and hugged him to her. "Hello, my little friend. Did we wake you up? Your uncles were just telling me some exciting stories about things they've done." She spoke to him as if he were an adult, not a toddler, looking into his eyes as she held him close.
Sam could imagine her with their child, a protective mother for certain, he could see it in the way she held Daniel.
"You've met?" Ryland asked.
His tone put Sam on edge. He sat up straighter and swung his legs over the edge of the bed in preparation--for what, he wasn't certain. Ryland had sounded more than suspicious--he'd sounded accusing as well. More so, his team had gone onto alert. This was Daniel--the most protected member of their family--and a stranger had gotten to him right in their midst.
"Daniel has been telling us all about his new friend. We thought he had made up an imaginary friend to play with." Ryland's gaze shifted to Ian's face. Ian--Azami's guard. If she'd met Daniel, where had that meeting taken place, and how?
Ian squirmed uncomfortably. It didn't matter that they'd all been laughing with Azami moments earlier; every man was looking at her as if she was the enemy. Sam slid to his feet, steadying himself against the bed for a brief moment before he found his footing again.
This time there was no mistaking Ryland's accusation, and Sam understood. Lily had been upset over the idea that Daniel would have to have an imaginary playmate. More than that, Daniel was to be protected at all times from outsiders and yet the child had greeted Azami as an old friend, which implied multiple meetings. He was always naturally suspicious of strangers.
"He's a wonderful boy, and so very bright," Azami said, as Daniel snuggled against her. She rocked him gently. "He came into my room on the first night. I heard a small noise in the fan and a screw dropped out onto the floor. I looked up and he was looking down at me, laughing. He was quite curious that you had company and didn't introduce him. I explained that not all strangers were good people and some could be dangerous to him and that you were protecting him. He signs quite well."
Azami never raised her voice, or appeared in any way as if she recognized the heightened tension in the room. She seemed relaxed, her attention focused on the toddler, but Sam wasn't deceived in the least. She was a force to be reckoned with and for some reason, his teammates didn't feel her energy as he did. That continued to worry him.
There was a long silence. No one expected that explanation, but they shouldn't have been surprised. Daniel was definitely an escape artist. He liked small spaces and already he was using tools like a pro.
Ryland glared at his son. "You went to our guest's bedroom, Daniel? Do you think that's appropriate behavior?" He signed as he spoke.
Daniel shook his head and pressed closer to Azami. He signed back to his father.
"I don't care if she didn't mind," Ryland sounded gruff. "She is our guest. Her bedroom is a sacred place, a sanctuary for her. We don't intrude. Do you understand?"
Daniel nodded his head.
"More than that, it isn't safe for you to go meet a stranger without our knowledge. You have to have time-out for that." Now Ryland sounded sterner than ever and Daniel's face began to crumble, tears swimming in his eyes.
The men exchanged uneasy glances. None of them liked it when Daniel cried and he definitely knew it, playing them easily when he sat in his little chair sobbing.
Azami's subtle move put her under the shelter of Sam's arm. Daniel looked up at him, his lip quivering. Sam leaned down and brushed a kiss over the boy's mop of hair.
"What does one do on time-out?" Azami asked. Her voice was softer than ever, but Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck raise. Clearly she didn't like the idea of the boy being punished.
"Daniel sits in a chair for two minutes," Sam explained hastily.
Daniel knew by the way she held him so protectively that he had an ally in Azami. He gave a little sob and pressed his face into her shoulder.
"You tie him to a chair?" Azami glared up at Sam.
Ian burst out laughing. "If you tried tying that boy to a chair, momma bear would come at you with teeth and claws."
"And a very big gun," Ryland added. "I don't know what they do in Japan, but we don't tie our children to chairs. He sits in it because we tell him to. It's safe and doesn't hurt. He doesn't like the isolation and understands there are consequences for naughty behavior. In this case, he also violated a safety rule."
"What happens if he gets out of the chair?" Azami asked. "Before the two minutes are up?"
"He is placed back in the chair and we go at it all day if necessary," Ryland said. "Raising Daniel requires patience as well as love." He looked around the room. "I think it requires all of us. We work together. Clearly we dropped the ball. I'm sorry he disturbed you on your first night with us. Thank you for being so gracious about it."
"I rarely sleep at night. I needed to make certain my brothers were safe and had all they required. I felt better seeing they were assigned guards as well."
Ian regarded her with a clear frown. "Are you saying you left your room last night?"
"Well, of course. The baby had to be put back to bed. I wasn't going to shove him back up into the vent and hope he made his way back to his room safely," Azami said.
"That's impossible," Ian denied. "I didn't leave the door. I didn't, Rye. I didn't fall asleep tonight, or last night."
Ryland turned piercing eyes on Azami, waiting for an explanation.
"Your son is an extremely intelligent and curious child," Azami said. "And very gifted. Perhaps too gifted for his age."
Ryland reached out and plucked Daniel from her arms. "What do you mean by that?"
Sam bristled at the belligerence in Ryland's tone. "She didn't mean anything," he snapped before he could stop himself.
Ryland's gaze jumped to his face.
"Sir," Azami said calmly. "Your son is in the greatest danger possible and not from anyone outside this compound. From himself. Like Sam, like me, he is a teleporter."
CHAPTER 10
A stunned silence followed Azami's quiet revelation. The members of GhostWalker Team One exchanged uneasy, shocked looks.
Ryland rubbed his chin over his son's thick cap of hair, his eyes closed briefly. Sam couldn't imagine what was going through his mind.
"Are you certain?" Ryland finally asked. "I've seen no evidence of
Daniel teleporting."
Azami slowly nodded her head. "I'm very sure. He's young and there's an art to it, but learning can be both painful and dangerous, as Sam knows well. The gift didn't really begin to manifest in me until around the age of ten. I would feel broken apart inside and find I'd moved from one corner of a room to another and couldn't remember walking across the room. It was frightening. For a while I was afraid to tell my father, afraid I was losing my mind. Your son is a mere baby and he's already experiencing that same sensation."
Ryland buried his face against the baby's neck, his arms tightening until Daniel squirmed and he was forced to ease up. He raised his head, his steel gray eyes meeting Sam's. "Did you know?"
"I never even suspected, Rye," Sam said. "Now that Azami pointed out the possibility, I can see that a few times, Daniel was in one spot and then he was a few feet away playing with my tools, but I didn't feel the 'broken apart' effect until I was about eighteen. Neither you nor Lily has the ability to teleport, so it didn't occur to me that Daniel would have it. But then, I don't think my parents could do it, or they would have been all over television and selling their story for their drug money. Hell, Rye." Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose, not knowing how to comfort his friend.
Daniel could very well teleport right into the middle of a wall before he ever fully understood the danger. Ryland and Lily had a difficult time as it was, let alone knowing their child could put himself in the middle of the forest, the mines, or up on the roof. The psychic gifts they had been born with, and then enhanced by Whitney, were both a blessing and a curse. Each talent could be extremely dangerous, especially in one young and inexperienced.
"You snuck past me, didn't you?" Ian accused. "I knew I hadn't gone to sleep."
Sam understood what Ian was doing: giving Ryland time to assimilate the danger to his son and come to terms with it. He deliberately drew attention away from their leader.
"Many times, as a matter of fact," Azami said, willing to sacrifice herself so that Ryland could take a moment to recover and hold his child close. "I tweaked your chin once."
Ian rubbed his chin, glaring at her. "You did. I felt it. A draft hit me and it felt like someone pulled a hair from my chin."
"It was red and I couldn't resist. You really need to shave," Azami pointed out. "What's with that little red fuzz on your chin anyway? Is it some sort of statement I don't understand?"
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