Samurai Game

by Christine Feehan

Sam looked around the table at his silent companions. Normally they were all heckling one another and playing juvenile pranks on each other. They were all just as concerned as Ryland. He didn't know what to say to reassure them. There wasn't a single part of him that had a doubt that Azami was the woman for him--yet what could he give her? He couldn't argue with Ryland, not because he wasn't certain of his choice, but he wasn't certain how he could be her choice.

  "You aren't going to be reasonable about this, are you?" Ryland asked.

  "No. I made up my mind. I'm asking her brothers for permission. I don't want to wait. I want her with me. She knows I'm a soldier and that I belong here. I know I can help her in her work just as she'll be an asset in mine."

  Ryland's frown deepened. "She isn't part of this team."

  "Not any more than the other women, Rye, but she's a GhostWalker and she belongs with us. She fits with me."

  "Are we going to talk about what she said? About the orders coming down to us?"

  Again Sam shrugged. "It won't be the first or last time one of us has been targeted. If she's right, we'll handle it."

  "Sam . . ." Ryland started to say something and abruptly cut himself short.

  "Say it." Anger welled up. He looked around the room. "I know exactly what you're thinking. I knew it the moment Azami mentioned those orders and you made such a big deal out of telling her you pick your own team. This isn't the first time anyone's implicated the general in wrongdoing. Yes, he was Colonel Higgens's friend. He knew Whitney. He knows a lot of people. He wouldn't sell me down the river because a madman asked him to. Even if he specifically names me to go, Rye, that doesn't mean the orders come from him."

  "I'm not saying you should suspect the general of being in league with Whitney," Ryland hedged. "It just makes good sense to watch your back. People aren't always what they seem, Sam. The people we can trust are the ones in this room, not out there." He pointed out the window. "And just for good measure, the general is the one person we shared Lily's work on second-generation Zenith with."

  Sam pushed down anger. "The general has been a father to me. I joined the service to be like him. Don't stand there and tell me you're not suspicious of him, because you've been suspicious from the day everything went to hell. You're a paranoid son of a bitch, Rye. And now you're suspicious of Azami. You think everything's a conspiracy and everyone is involved."

  Ryland's eyebrow shot up. "Aren't they? Isn't everything a conspiracy?"

  Sam didn't smile as he knew Ryland wanted him to. General Ranier had fallen under suspicion several times and each time he'd come back clean, yet his unit didn't altogether trust him. Sam loved the general. He'd given up a lucrative job in the civilian world to follow the general into the service. He loved and respected the general more than anyone else in the world.

  Sam ducked his head. That wasn't entirely the truth. Ryland had come to take that place, and somehow, the general had slipped down a few notches, which was why Sam was so belligerent and defensive when the subject was brought up. He felt guilty. Plain and simple he felt guilty because more than once, he'd had the hairs on the back of his neck stand up around the general and he hadn't said a word to anyone else. He was guilty either way. Not telling his team his strange feelings, and not believing in the man who had taken him off the streets.

  What had made him worry? Sam shook his head to clear it. Little things. Shadows. Whispers. The general had always had a schedule, a fixed routine, and he stuck to it. The last year, there had been phone calls, meetings at odd hours. Ranier was responsible for national security, so a clandestine meeting shouldn't have raised an alarm, but Sam had sensed something different in the general and twice, when he'd asked, Ranier had avoided meeting his eyes. That was entirely wrong.

  "What is it, Sam?" Ryland asked.

  Sam detested the quiet sympathy in Rye's tone, as if he'd already tried and condemned the general. "Nothing," Sam said. "Nothing at all."

  "She is beautiful," Ryland finally admitted.

  "She's a hell of a fighter," Sam said with a small smile, willing to allow the subject to be changed. "She'll be a big help working with Daniel, Rye. She learned to teleport at an earlier age than I did. She made more mistakes and is probably more aware of the dangers to a child."

  Ryland nodded, not quite assenting. Sam knew it would take a lot for both Ryland and Lily to trust an outsider with their child. Right now, he didn't want to stop and reassure Ryland. His heart was pounding and his mouth was dry. He was going to put his neck under the blade of a samurai sword tonight.

  He pushed himself up again and held on to the table until his protesting wound stopped the persistent throbbing. He wouldn't have minded a glass of whiskey right now, but he wasn't backing out. If asking her brothers permission to marry her was what it took to get into their family, he was all for it. He started out of the room and then hesitated, turning back. He couldn't just leave them all exposed.

  "When we teleport, we need to know exactly where we're projecting our body to. We can't just arrive in the middle of the room where a table might be. We have to have eyes at least and sometimes ears. I use cameras. Very small cameras when I'm going to teleport in a crowded area. I study the terrain ahead of time. And in case you've forgotten, I always have backup. Azami as good as told you she did as well."

  Comprehension dawned immediately. Ryland swore under his breath. "The room is bugged."

  "She had to have had eyes in here," Sam said. "And if you were her brother and she was about to sit on a hot seat, what would you do?"

  "Find the bugs," Ryland said, sounding tired. "I hope to hell you're right about that woman, Sam. Gator, go wake up that woman of yours. I need some answers. We need her to run the computers for us."

  "Tonight, Boss?" Gator complained. "I had other ideas." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  "We all did. Hop to it."

  "What about Sam?" Tucker asked. "His woman is the one who got us into this."

  "I'm wounded." Sam clutched his abdomen dramatically and staggered with quick, long strides so that he made it to the doorway in three quick steps.

  Jonas coughed, sounding suspiciously like he'd muttered "bullshit" under his breath. Kyle threw a peanut at him and Jeff surfed across the table in his bare socks to try to catch him before he bolted.

  "He's in love, boys, let him go. He'll probably just get laughed at," Tucker said. "Do you really think Azami's brothers are going to allow her to hook up with Sam? She's fine and he's . . . well . . . klutzy."

  "That hurt," Sam said, turning back.

  "Did you get a good look at those boys? I thought Japanese men were supposed to be on the short side, but Daiki was tall and all muscle. His brother moves like a fucking fighter," Tucker added. "They might just decide to give you a good beating for having the audacity to even think you could date their sister, let alone marry her."

  "Fat help you are," Sam accused. "I could use a little confidence here."

  Kyle snorted. "You don't have a chance, buddy."

  "Goin' to meet your maker," Gator added solemnly.

  Jeff crossed himself as he hung five toes off the edge of the table. "Sorry, old son, you don't have a prayer. You're about to meet up with a couple of hungry sharks."

  "Have you ever actually used a sword before?" Kadan asked, all innocent.

  Jonas drew his knife and began to sharpen it. "Funny thing about blade men, they always like to go for the throat." He grinned up at Sam. "Just a little tip. Keep your chin down."

  "You're all a big help," Sam said and stepped out into the hall.

  This was the biggest moment of his life. If they turned him down, he was lost. Azami wouldn't go against her brothers. She might go her own way in battle, but she would never defy her family over something so important as a spouse. He wished he'd asked her a few more questions about the customs. He had no idea what would be an insult and what wouldn't.

  Sam moved through the house to the second wing. Lily and Ryland's home contained all th
e offices and a maze of halls that led to Lily's laboratories. The guest wing adjoined the meeting rooms, giving guests and the resident family plenty of privacy. Each of the members of Team One had their own home, built in the forest but protected by the main compound. The training center was on the other side of the laboratories, a large complex where the team could practice on a daily basis. There was a large indoor pool to work out in as well as an armory, although each home contained a separate armory.

  The small hospital was connected to the laboratories. Sam was grateful that Lily had chosen to have him in her small guest bedroom sometimes used as an infirmary for a team member recovering from a wound that didn't need around the clock care. Sam disliked hospitals on principle. Staying in Lily's house was always warm and friendly. All the men stopped by and visited and even baby Daniel came to see him.

  He stopped in front of the largest guest room. It had a large sitting room and private bathroom for important business guests such as Daiki and Eiji Yoshiie. There was no sound, but he knew they were in there waiting for him. They had bugged the war room in order to better protect their sister. He had no doubt that in spite of the fact that they weren't psychic, both men were skillful warriors.

  He couldn't believe that his hands were clammy and his heart pounding. He'd gone into full-scale battle with less apprehension. Both men spoke excellent English, so there was no language barrier, and if truth be told, he spoke fluent Japanese. Standing in front of the door, he took a moment to inspect his clothing. He was barefoot, wore jeans and a carelessly buttoned shirt that had a few bloodstains clinging to it. Damn. He should have changed.

  What the hell was he doing? He should have carried her off like a caveman. He could persuade her to marry him. Wine. Sex. Candlelight. Yeah, he could manage that. But asking stone-face swordsmen for permission? They were probably laughing at his predicament. He would be if Azami was his sister.

  Sam took a breath and knocked on the door before he talked himself out of it--a polite knock when he wanted to pound until the door broke down and he just demanded they hand her over to him. He wasn't going away without her. If she thought about it too long, she'd change her mind. What sane woman wouldn't?

  The door swung open slowly and Eiji's broad frame filled the doorway. He stared at Sam without expression, his dark eyes thoughtful. "May I help you?"

  If the man was a team member, Sam would have told him to can the crap; after all, they knew exactly why he'd come. He gave a slight bow instead and tried a tentative smile.

  "Please excuse my attire; I had no other clothes with me." He nearly groaned. That had been a little reminder that he'd gone into battle, but maybe not such a good idea. He'd been wounded. They might think he wasn't a good enough soldier to protect their sister. "The matter is urgent or I wouldn't have disturbed you so late. I wish to speak to you and your brother."

  Eiji studied him a moment longer and then stepped back, his robes flowing around him as he did, using that same fluid motion Sam recognized in Azami. The apartment was lit with candles rather than the harsher lights overhead. A Go game was laid out between two chairs on the smaller coffee table, and clearly they'd been playing. He couldn't help but notice that a long samurai sword lay inches from Daiki's fingertips, enclosed in the ornate scabbard.

  Daiki rose and gave that studied, perfect bow that made the two men seem as if they were traditional warriors of old. "I had hoped that your wounds were not so bad," he greeted. "Thank you for looking after Azami."

  Sam breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself a smile. "I think it was mutual."

  Daiki waved him toward a chair. Sam nearly groaned. Not another chair. He could get in and out of one, but he looked like an old man doing it. He took a deep breath and took the plunge.

  "I don't know how this is done in your family, so I'm just going to get right to the point. I would like your permission to marry Azami. I know I'm not much to look at and I'm in a high-risk job, but we're . . . we . . . fit. I'll make her happy. I know I will."

  "Her happiness is not of paramount importance," Daiki said. "Her safety is our first priority. Azami would throw herself in front of a bullet for the ones she loves."

  Sam heard the dark warning in Azami's brother's voice. Daiki Yoshiie was definitely a man of confidence. He talked with great intelligence, his voice cultured and smooth, yet he moved like the whisper of the wind. The man would hold his own in any fight--if you ever saw him. Their father had trained them in the way of the samurai and it had become their way of life. They chose to put the principles into business, but nevertheless, they could use them just as easily if needed to defend themselves.

  "As would I," Sam said. He didn't know what else to say. Daiki told him the truth about Azami and Sam knew it was true. There would be no stopping what he knew was central to her character any more than they could stop the need to protect those he loved in him. He was certain that simple statement was a test to see his reaction. Azami was Azami and there was no changing her, nor would he want to do so.

  "She is her own woman. I will protect her with my life and love and value her for all my days." He felt silly saying the truth aloud to strangers even if the men were Azami's brothers.

  Daiki studied his face for a long time before he stepped forward and opened his palm. "This ring was made by our father for the man who would see beyond the past and bring her happiness. You are her choice."

  The ring was small, delicate like Azami, but intricate, just as her personality was. The blossom of a thistle nestled in the middle, surrounded by thorns. Along the band was etched a detailed samurai sword. The work had been done by a master craftsman. Sam stared down at that tiny symbol of a man's commitment to a woman and knew that the artist had been equally gifted and detailed when it came to making weapons.

  "I would have liked to have met your father," he murmured.

  Daiki bowed as he placed the ring in Sam's hand. "He would have liked to have met you."

  Sam closed his fingers around the ring, a strange soaring sensation in his heart.

  "My father found my brother and me in the street just as he did Azami. Several nights a week would we walk on those streets with him. When he found her, she was surrounded by those who would have used her for the child sex trade. They knew him and knew he would have fought to the death for her. He saw her bravery, right there in that horrible alley, the light in her eyes, the courage she possessed. She has a spirit no monster could slay. That's what my father saw in her, and he knew a man would come along who would see that same spirit. I'm glad it is you."

  Sam bowed slightly. "Where is she?" He could barely get the words out. He needed to see her. Right then. Right now. He had expected her to be there, but he knew little of the traditions of her family.

  "I believe she has gone to your home to welcome you," Daiki answered.

  Sam's stomach did a slow somersault while his heart lifted.

  CHAPTER 12

  Sam had chosen a spot in the forest of trees near a running stream with water tumbling over a series of small boulders to build his home. His porch overlooked the stream, with his bedroom situated so he could open his windows and listen to the water as it made its way down the tumbling rocks to the cool pond below. Lacy ferns scattered along the narrow bank grew in every shade of green. Homemade paper lanterns floated down the stream, glowing softly, lighting the water so that it sparkled like jewels in the night and illuminated the delicate night fronds.

  "Magic," he murmured aloud. "Azami magic."

  She was welcoming him home in her own way. If his heart hadn't been soaring before, it was now. He paused to watch the lanterns floating gracefully down the small series of falls toward the swirling pool of water several yards away. In the darkness of the forest, the warm radiance lent the water a luminosity that added to the magical illusion of the world around him shifting and changing. The rest of the world dropped away until there was only this moment, this place--and Azami waiting for him.

  His childhood had be
en one of drugs and apathy, his mother, unable and unwilling to give up her habits to look after him. He'd been hungry most of the time, dodging blows from whatever men she brought home and walking through needles and filth barefoot as she rarely bothered to find him a pair of shoes. Later, when he was a bit older, he fended for himself, learning to steal food, all the while trying to get an education. He stole textbooks from thrift stores, desperate to feed a mind always seeking more knowledge. Fate had intervened in the form of General Ranier when he'd boosted Ranier's car. The general, instead of having him arrested, took him home.

  Ranier and his wife had been good to Sam, much more than he deserved, paying for his education, sending him to boarding schools and giving him money to buy decent clothes. But, and he felt a little guilty--okay, a lot guilty that he'd never felt at home there. The old man wanted to be addressed as sir. He was gone all over the world, busy with his career, too busy to be home for holidays. His wife often accompanied him and when she wasn't, her charitable organizations kept her too busy to see him often. They were good to him, and he loved them for it, but their house had never been his home.

  He'd built his house with loving hands. He knew he wanted to stay here in this wilderness, surrounded by men he trusted and had come to let into his world, but each time he came back from a mission, the house was empty and cold. No matter what he did to it, there was no life in it. Azami had already made just approaching the house seem more of a coming home than he'd ever had.

  He took his time walking up the stone path to his door. Insects rustled leaves. An owl fluttered its wings while it watched for a meal. Frogs took up a chorus of love songs, each trying to outdo the other. This was his world with Azami, closed to everyone else. She was his and only his. No one else knew the woman behind that perfect mask of serenity. No one felt her passion and fire smoldering beneath the surface. They had no idea of this . . . He turned to look at the sheer magic she'd created there in the forest for him. Forever wasn't long enough to spend with a woman like her.

  Still, he stayed outside the door, holding his breath, half afraid his miracle wasn't reality. The paper lanterns floating down the stream and bobbing up and down in the pond created a beauty he'd never had in his life--and had never expected to have. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Azami had been created for him--sent to him--and yet he was half afraid that if he actually opened the door to his home, he would be alone and he'd discover everything was an illusion. He'd been wounded; perhaps he was dreaming the entire thing up.