We have to move. Follow the coordinates in my head. I know you can teleport. Don’t argue with me, just do it.

Sam’s voice carried an absolute authority she normally would have taken exception to, but sanity and self-preservation overruled pride. He pushed the coordinates into her head and she recognized the spot he gave her. She didn’t hesitate, moving with that gut-wrenching, sickening speed that took her breath and burned her body so that the moment she was once again still, she always had to mentally check herself to assure every piece had arrived safely.

Thorn had the presence of mind to hold completely still, unmoving, waiting for him to arrive beside her. She guessed that would place his body between her and any danger, but she didn’t dive for cover, afraid of interfering with Sam’s successful arrival. She felt the wash of unbelievably strong psychic energy, the surge so powerful it shook her. Heat burst around her as Sam’s body shimmered, nearly transparent, looking like ash more than human, and then he was there, real and solid, his hand settling around her arm to push her toward cover.

The helicopter with the Iranian soldiers had already taken to the air, rocketing fast across the sky, a second helicopter in hot pursuit. The sound of gunfire was loud, bursts of fire streaming between the two mechanical birds.

Sam and Thorn slipped into the dense brush and hugged the ground. It was a little ironic that they’d spent most of their time together in such close proximity. He probably knew her body much more intimately than anyone she’d grown up around—and she knew his. She sent him another grin, her eyes lighting with mischief. She couldn’t help it. He made her feel so alive, every nerve ending lighting up and aware.

You alive, Sam?

The voice startled Thorn. She heard it clearly and knew she was still linked to Sam. She knew he’d leave her mind, all that strength and warmth gone to leave her absolutely, utterly alone. She’d never realized she’d felt alone. She loved her adopted father and brothers. They weren’t terribly demonstrative—but neither was she. Still, there was no way for them to understand just how truly different she really was. She didn’t belong anywhere. She never felt entirely comfortable with anyone until she found herself fighting beside Sam.

Strangely, she seemed to know what he was going to do and she trusted that he’d get it done. He seemed to afford her the same trust. She’d always been a puzzle to everyone around her and even to herself, but with Sam, he’d put all the pieces together, using parts of himself, and they just fit together. She took a breath and saw him look at her—a look of regret. And then he was gone and for one terrible moment, it was unbearable to be Thorn again.

Her entire body shuddered, as if the mental leaving was also physical. Biting ice cold swept through her veins so that she had to grind her teeth to keep them from chattering. The scars on her body and in her mind banded tight, robbing her of breath and reason—but only for a brief moment. She was Thorn. No one, nothing was going to defeat her. She took a breath and looked away from warmth and happiness. Bleak cold settled over her once again.

Sam glanced at Azami. Ryland’s voice was loud in his head and he hadn’t yet detached himself from her. He knew he had no choice, but he’d never felt so reluctant to do something of paramount importance to his team. He knew she would see the unhappiness in his eyes, but in that moment he didn’t care how vulnerable he was to her. The loss of her would be a terrible blow when she’d filled every empty space with her strength and conviction. With her humor.

He took a deep breath and let go of her. The loss rocked him as he knew it would, leaving him strangely cold and for one bloody second, without hope. He actually experienced grief before he clamped down hard on his strange and entirely inappropriate emotions, turning himself back into stone. He found it odd to feel so completely lonely when he’d never minded being alone. Without her in his mind, he felt he’d lost too much of himself.

Sam shook his head. We’re fine. We’ve got a Jeep full of mercenaries to drive off, and you’ve got trained soldiers in that helicopter. Iranian.

There was a small silence as Ryland digested that shocking bit of information. You’re certain?

That’s affirmative. Are the other two civilians safe?

Yes.

Sam detested what he was about to do. Guilt ate at him, a terrible stone in his gut, but it had to be done. I don’t believe Azami is who they claim she is. She has many of the same gifts I do. She can teleport and she’s psychic. Kadan and Nico have to really watch the other two. I’ve been uneasy from the first, but I don’t have an idea what’s really going on.

Roger that.

Ryland’s matter-of-fact voice was a comfort. Sam had conveyed uneasiness from the moment he’d approached the trio of visitors from Samurai Telecommunications, but he hadn’t actually warned his team something was off. He’d waited for Kadan or Nico to raise the alarm, to at least feel the strange warning that he couldn’t shake, but neither had said anything.

I think they’re all armed to the teeth, at least for certain she is and she fights like one of us. We’ve got five Mexicans in a Jeep, everyone else on the ground is dead.

Cleaning crew on the way and Gator’s in position to tail them. Let at least one go.

Roger that. But he didn’t feel good about hunting with Azami, allowing her to put herself in danger when he’d just betrayed her.

Dr. Whitney was an implacable enemy and he wanted the children. Lily and Ryland had a baby boy in the compound, and more than anything else, he had to be protected. Just a few miles farther up the mountain, Team Two had twin babies and there was a softly whispered rumor that another woman was pregnant. No one spoke of it, to keep the information from reaching Whitney, who seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere. In San Francisco, another GhostWalker couple had a baby too, and if Lily purchased this satellite from Samurai Telecommunications, the Yoshiie family would visit both compounds as well to install software.

Sam couldn’t take the chance that Azami was involved in a plot to aid Whitney. He couldn’t see what she would get out of it, but there was no taking a chance with the children. He found he couldn’t look at her. The terrible knots tightened to the point of cramping in his belly. He pushed himself up as the sounds of the helicopter and gunfire faded away.

“We’ve still got to harass the ones in the Jeep.” He kept his face averted, his features expressionless, and his tone gruff.

“Sam.”

His name was a whisper of sound. Soft like snowfall or the drop of the leaves in the fall. He took a breath. She didn’t continue—just waited for him to face her. Silence stretched between them, but she wouldn’t bend, demanding he face her.

“Damn it, Azami.” Screw politeness. He’d sold her down the river and she’d probably saved his life with her patches of Zenith, although that was one more condemning mark against her.

Still she stayed silent. The wind persisted blowing through the trees, and he could hear the Jeep moving toward them, heading fast for the trail out.

He turned his head and his heart actually jerked in his chest as his eyes met hers. She smiled at him. She looked so beautiful standing there so still, her expression composed, serene even.

“I would have done exactly the same thing.”

Damn her for that. Absolving him of his sins. He shook his head. That didn’t make him feel better, although it was probably her intention. “Let’s get this done. And one stays alive. We need him.”

CHAPTER 5

Sam didn’t wait to see if Azami would follow. The Jeep was his problem, not hers. She was a guest and one who would be very thoroughly vetted again before this day was done, thanks to him. She’d held up under intense scrutiny by the CIA, Homeland Security, and the GhostWalkers themselves. Other countries around the world purchasing her products for military use also investigated her and she’d come up clean. Yet Sam had doubted she was who she said she was. Maybe he was just going crazy and all Samurai Telecommunications employees were trained in warfare.

He swore as the Jeep topped the small rise, bursting into view, with five dark-haired men, heavily armed, looking wild-eyed and disheveled. Not soldiers, but certainly men used to killing. His brain catalogued the information even as he fired methodically, taking out the two on his side and avoiding shooting the driver. He expected return fire, but the other two soldiers went down in the Jeep, automatic weapons falling from nerveless hands and dropping to the ground as the driver careened out of sight, four dead bodies in his vehicle.

Sam turned his head just as Azami lowered her weapon. He frowned. He’d seen blowguns before, but like most of her weapons, this one had been modified. The darts were tiny, no larger than an unshelled peanut, the needle so thin and tiny he knew it would be impossible to discover that entry point. He would bet his last dollar that whatever fast-acting poison was used was undetectable. The loads were tiny, but in small individual chambers that looked harmless. She could deliver several shots before having to reload.

“I see you have no need of a sword.”

“Very difficult, these days, to get them through security,” she pointed out without changing expression.

“You’re extremely accurate with that weapon.”

“With all weapons. My father was an exacting man.”

“You’re a very dangerous woman, Azami Yoshiie.” Sam meant it as an admiring compliment.

One eyebrow raised. Her mouth curved and she flashed a heart-stopping smile. “You have no idea how dangerous.” She said his own words right back to him and he believed her.

“And you’re just as adept with a sword as you are with your other weapons?” he asked curiously.

“More so,” she admitted with no trace of bragging—simply stating a fact. “I said so, didn’t I?”

Sam turned on his heel and strode toward her purposefully. “I’m about to kiss you, Ms. Yoshiie. I’m fully aware I’m breaching every single international law of etiquette there is, and you might, rightfully, stick that knife of yours in my gut, but right at this moment I don’t particularly give a damn.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move. He’d known she wouldn’t. She was every bit as courageous as any member of his team. She would stand her ground.

Thorn moistened her lips. “It might be your heart,” she warned truthfully.

“Still, I have no choice here. I really don’t. So pull the damn thing out and be ready.”

She felt her body go liquid with heat, a frightening reaction to a woman of absolute control. “If you’re going to do it, you’d best make it really good, because it very well might be the last thing you ever do. I have no idea how I’ll react. I’ve never actually kissed anyone before.”

Her heart thundered in her ears, drowning out the sounds of the insects coming back to life around them. She was more terrified in that moment than she’d been during the battles with the enemy soldiers. She had no idea how she would react. Self-preservation was strong in her and Sam threatened her on such an elemental level she had no real way of knowing what she might do to defend herself.

With every deliberate step he took, Sam loomed larger and larger. She’d recognized that he was a big man, strong and battle-hardened, but she’d been going into combat at his side, so she hadn’t concerned herself with physical attributes. Now, she could see every detail. There was dark purpose in his eyes, a growing desire that left her breathless and weak. She couldn’t be weak—not now, not in her most important hour.

She should have stepped back. Her fingers did curl around her dagger, but she didn’t draw it. She didn’t move. She stood captured in those dark eyes, watching his desire growing—for her, for Thorn, the warrior. He knew she was far more than Azami, her brother’s bodyguard, and he admired her for it. No, it was more than admiration. He desired her because of it. He desired the warrior in her just as much if not more than the woman.