Samurai Game

CHAPTER 19

Misery was tramping through hostile jungle for thirteen hours with the steady fall of rain. Long, silver sheets dropped from the sky, the drops making their way through the thick leaves of the canopy to fall in an endless, relentless stream. Everything and everyone was thoroughly drenched. The trees seemed closer at night, the tangled vines, thick and roped, hanging like nooses over their heads, ready to trap them.

The team walked in single file in absolute silence, continually alert for snakes, animals, insects, and hostiles. Sam had been in the rainforests hundreds of times, but he couldn’t recall a more miserable journey. The feeling of being abandoned was strong, thrown away by an ungrateful government, left to die in a country they’d tried to help. He knew what Azami felt like, thrown away like so much trash. Anger mixed with trepidation with every step they took.

He was a man, trained for this shit. He’d signed on, knowing at any moment he could be burned. Azami had been an infant when Whitney had taken her from the orphanage. She’d been eight years old when Whitney had abandoned her on the streets of Japan. He’d experimented on her until he was certain her only use was a heart transplant the doctor was certain would kill her. Sick and dying, he’d had her flown in a box to Japan, taken by strangers to an alley known for sex trade, and dumped her-threw her away as he’d just been thrown away.

Anger smoldered in the pit of his belly-not for himself, but for Azami. Walking through a dark, hostile jungle couldn’t be any worse than a child waking up in a country she didn’t know, bruised and battered.

It was a four-day walk to Matadi and they wanted to find a car, but they needed a ride where a vehicle could actually travel, and most of the roads were blown to hell.

Kadan’s voice hissed a soft warning in his ear. Sam went down on one knee, sliding his gun into firing position. They all remained absolutely silent. Their point man just indicated trouble.

A rebel patrol moved like wraiths, filtering through the trees just a few meters from them. The patrol continued on past them, and Sam let out his breath, his muscles relaxing a little. The rebels suddenly halted, one man moving out of the line into the trees, just off the animal trail they were using as a path. He opened his fly and suddenly looked straight at Kadan.

Kadan was no more than a foot from him, blending into the shadows as he often did. The man blinked and looked away. Kadan didn’t move, remaining absolutely silent and still. Above his head the branch came alive, a snake lifting its head curiously to stare at the soldier. The reptile’s movement drew the rebel’s attention. He took a step closer, peering at the snake, machete raised. And then his eyes widened and he screamed, a high-pitched cry of absolute shock, to see a man so close to him.

“Contact, one o’clock!” Kadan yelled as he shot the soldier in the head.

The rebels opened fire simultaneously with the GhostWalker team, a mere five meters apart. The entire confrontation lasted forty-five seconds, but it seemed an eternity of hell with the shock of the bullets flying and men screaming. Monkeys screamed their fear and rage, adding to the chaos, and just that quickly, the jungle went silent.

Seven rebels lay dead, with the last one dying. Ryland signaled the men forward to quickly drag the dead deeper into the bushes and glean as much intel as possible, looking for maps and radio frequencies. The sound of gunfire could be heard for miles and they didn’t want to stay there any longer than necessary, nor did they want to draw more attention to themselves than they already had.

They set out fast, putting distance between the dead rebels and them, making good time as the night began to approach. Ryland called a halt and signaled to Kadan to find a good hide for a few hours’ sleep. They needed rest and food before they moved on.

Sam resisted the urge to use the radio just to hear Azami’s voice. The rain refused to slow down, pouring down as if trying to flood the area. Small rivulets ran all around them. They had to watch each other for leeches, removing them in stoic silence. They took turns sleeping and guarding for four hours before starting out again. The quick catnap helped take the edge off.

Moving at night was slow, but moving during the day was far more dangerous. They had too long of a way to travel to engage with the rebels too many times. Kadan abruptly stopped as the sun came up, signaling to hold. The GhostWalkers dropped to their knee and waited.

We’ve got a fairly well traveled road here, Rye, Kadan reported. We might pick up a vehicle if we keep close to it.

Ryland considered the risks before he agreed. The distance to Matadi without picking up transportation would take too many days to walk and they were going to get lucky only if they were close to a road.

Let’s stay close.

They didn’t have long to wait until they heard the faint sound of an engine chugging toward them. Quickly they set up an ambush. As the rusty old pickup came into sight, Gator stumbled out onto the road, babbling, arguing with himself in his Cajun accent, seemingly oblivious to the truck. The truck lurched to a halt, four rebels spilling out, shouting at Gator and gesturing with guns. When he continued to babble, they looked at one another and one went up to him to deliver a blow into his midsection. The others spit on him. One punched and another kicked him as he went down. Engrossed in beating up the clearly insane idiot, none of them noticed the GhostWalkers slipping up behind them.

Gator’s eyes cleared. From the ground he gave them a wicked grin and wiggled his fingers. “Bye-bye, boys,” he said. “Been fun knowin’ ya.”

Four knives slit throats, and Sam reached down to help Gator as the bodies were removed from the road. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Next time you can be the insane guy.”

Sam grinned at him. “Do I look crazy to you? You’re so good at it.”

“Get in the truck,” Ryland called.

There were risks out in the open on the road, but it was far faster than “breaking brush”-walking in the jungle. As Kyle floored it, pushing the speed to cover miles, Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Every mile passing was a mile closer to going home to Azami. For the first time in his life he actually had a reason to go home.

They stayed as alert as possible with the pits in the road jarring them every few minutes. The rain fell in the same endless gray sheets, obscuring vision. At times the bald tires slid in the mud, sending them slamming into each other. They were packed like sardines in the back, but they weren’t walking.

Three hours later, as they hit the top of a hill, the radiator began to steam and the engine abruptly seized.

“Okay, boys,” Ryland said. “Time to put the LPCs back to use.”

The men groaned and lifted their leather personal carriers out of the truck. Ryland laughed at them. “Too much good living. You’re all turning into pansies. The truck saved us over a hundred miles of walking and a few days on top of that, so stop your bellyaching. We’ve got twenty-three miles until we get to Matadi. Let’s get this sorry ass truck pushed over the edge so it looks like the abandoned wreck that it is. We need to get out of sight and make certain nobody saw us arrive.”

After ascertaining they hadn’t been spotted, they traveled twenty klicks from the truck, set up security, and settled in to wait for nightfall.

Duncan Forbes sank into his favorite seat at his favorite pub. “Whiskey.” He needed it. And he had a damn good reason to celebrate. Everything had gone to hell in the Congo, but he’d gotten out alive and he’d had his revenge on the fuckers. Who did they think they were, anyway? They’d treated him like dog shit. “Elite, my ass,” he said aloud. Yeah, they were so damned elite that they were going to die in that jungle, hopefully tortured by those equally idiotic rebels.

“Make that two,” General Fielding said and slid his butt into the seat across from Forbes. He smiled at the woman seated at the bar. A pretty little thing. Delicate. Asian. The little cap of jet black hair was intriguing around her fragile face. She had the longest lashes he’d ever seen. Her lips were…

“You’re staring,” Forbes said with a tight laugh. “She’s probably on the clock.”

“I can find out after we have our drink. It was a long flight to Washington.” He glanced again at the woman, catching her eye. This time she smiled. “I wish I was in uniform, but that always attracts undo attention. Women, however, fall all over me when I’m wearing it.” He turned his head and suddenly he was all business, looking like the commander he was. “What the hell went wrong out there? I don’t like leaving my soldiers behind.”

“Sacrifices have to be made, General. If we’re going to have a strong military, we need the right people leading,” Forbes said. “These men not only blew a multimillion-dollar project, but more important, they blew months of negotiations. If the president gets those mines back, we won’t have access to what we need for the weapon. He’s not going to be so easy to deal with as a bunch of hotheaded rebels with no real agenda.”

Fielding sighed. “Still. They were soldiers. Good soldiers.”

Forbes shot him a look. “What do you know about them?”

“Not much.” The general shrugged, his gaze straying back toward the woman at the bar. She was leaning over the bar, talking to the bartender, flirting a little as the man put the whiskeys on the bar for the waitress. She had picked up her clutch and seemed to be getting ready to leave. He didn’t want her to leave. She was the only prospect he could see for salvaging the night.

The waitress scooped up the drinks and brought them over to the table. Forbes reached for his money, but she shook her head and indicated over her shoulder. “She bought it for both of you.”

Forbes took his drink with a sigh of relief and downed half of it, before smiling an acknowledgment. “I don’t think that uniform is going to matter one way or the other, General. That little tart is looking for some fun with you.”

The general picked his drink up and waited until the little Asian girl had slipped off the barstool and was fully facing him. He raised his glass in a toast to her and took a large swallow. She smiled back at him and sauntered over, taking her time but holding his attention with her large, exotic eyes.

She stopped at the table as Forbes downed his drink and signaled for two more. The general managed another healthy swallow, looking her up and down over the rim of his glass.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she said softly, very softly, her voice just the merest thread of sound.

“Thank you for the drinks,” Fielding said. He went to put his hand on her hip, but she glided a few steps and his hand fell through empty air.

She smiled. “You don’t have me to thank. These drinks are courtesy of the GhostWalkers you thought you left behind in the jungle. Enjoy them, gentlemen, they’ll be your last.” She spoke so soft, so sweetly, it took a moment for her words to register.

Forbes opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Alarm spread across his face. He clutched his chest.

The general scowled at her. “What the hell are you saying?”

She was already gone, walking out of the bar with unhurried steps, the bar door swinging closed behind her.

The waitress brought the second round of drinks to the table. Forbes half stood, still clutching at his heart. He suddenly fell, going to his knees, his chair tipping back. “Oh, my God,” the waitress said. “Bill, I think he’s having a heart attack. Call an ambulance.”

As the words left her mouth, Fielding tried to stand and went down, smashing his head on the table, his hands gripping the edges so hard the table overturned. Several people ran to help. No one noticed the man removing the two glasses from the floor and pocketing them, leaving the newly spilled whiskey glasses beside the overturned table. He left the bar as the paramedics arrived.

Eiji walked out of the bar and down the sidewalk, using the same unhurried pace his sister had. He turned into the alley where she waited, once more in jeans, with her long hair pulled back in a ponytail. As he walked down the alley toward her, he reversed his light-colored coat to the darker blue side, slicked his hair back, and waited while Azami deftly changed the laces in his shoes to a bright pink. They both donned backpacks they had stashed. He dropped his arm around her shoulders, and they emerged onto the next street on the other side of the block, Eiji hailing a cab.

Daylight gave way to darkness, although there seemed to be little difference with the constant rain in the jungle. Sometimes the rain let up for a short while and then it would start again in earnest. They continued their journey toward the port where the GhostWalkers hoped to “acquire” a boat.

The rising sun found them four miles from town where they settled in for the day. It was far too risky in the more populated area to travel. With the sun, the rain faded into a mist and then gradually disappeared altogether.

“We’ll rest here,” Ryland decided. “Try to scavenge up some food, find a water source, and clean up a bit.”

They all carried baby wipes and basic hygiene necessities and it felt good to take some of the grime of battle and travel off. Water came from a creek that ran into the nearby Congo River. Kyle, Jonas, and Gator went looking for food for everyone. Kyle managed to come up with a couple of dozen bananas and Jonas collected wild yams. Gator built a fish weir in the creek and captured a few tilapia.

Sam and Nico dug an oblong hole and built a fire in it. Using green limbs, they built a rack over the fire and cooked the fish and yams. They all sat back, finally satisfied, feeling as if they’d attended a virtual feast. The food was much needed, as it had been some time since they’d consumed any of their rations.

“We’re going to revise our plan a little and go with a new strategy for the night,” Ryland said. It was evident that while the others collected and cooked food, Ryland and Kadan had been working on a new plan. “We’ll split into two teams. The teams will do independent recons of two different routes to port. We’d like to find a small boat to take us down the Congo River to the Atlantic. When we’ve completed our recons, we’ll meet back up at a designated ORP and make a decision how to proceed. Any questions?” Again there was no pause. “Good. Let’s get it done, gentlemen.”

Sam, Nico, Kadan, and Jonas headed out, traveling fast, as soon as they’d settled on an objective rally point. Sam slipped into the brush, close to the port. The place was heavily guarded, presumably to keep the rebels out. Armed men in uniforms paced restlessly. Several stood together, talking quietly, smoke and laughter drifting back toward him. He worked his way all along the river, trying to find some means of transportation, but the security had the place locked down tight. Cursing under his breath, he made his way back to his three team members. All of them shook their heads silently.

Kadan gave the signal to retreat back to the designated objective rally point. They could only hope that Ryland’s team had fared better. They crouched down, waiting for Ryland’s team when the radio gave a soft sigh.

“Burning Man… Burning Man… this is Firefly, over.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. He was trapped in the jungle, no way to get out, the president’s army all around them. The soldiers sure as hell didn’t have a clue they were the good guys, and if caught, no one would claim them-not even the man who had asked for help.

He swallowed hard. She was right about the clarity of the radio. It sounded as if she was whispering in his ear. He hoped she was right about the audio capability-she’d devised some new audio device that if they stayed under fifteen seconds with each transmission, was supposed to be impossible to detect. Just the sound of her voice made him want to hold her close.

“Burning Man, over.”

“Your ride is waiting.”

“Copy that, Firefly, ride is waiting, over.”

“Tell leader, problem taken care of. Home office clear as well. Firefly out.”

His heart jerked. It seemed a hell of a lot easier to run around jungles with enemies surrounding him when he had nothing to lose. The freighter was anchored and waiting for them. They just had to make it out to the boat.

Ryland’s team returned, looking as dejected as he felt. Kadan gave his report. Ryland’s echoed it. The port was too heavily guarded to chance it. They’d have to move on.

Firefly has our ride in place. Sam was glad to give some good news. Rye, the problem both in the general’s office and the one you wanted addressed has been taken care of.

Ryland’s nod was barely perceptible, but he looked pleased.

It was a long, slow walk skirting the town. Several times they ran into dogs, but Gator quieted them before they could bark and give the team away. On the other side of town, they once again split into two teams for another recon. Almost immediately Sam spotted a van. The vehicle didn’t look in much better shape than the truck had been, but it was transport. Old and rusty, the paint chipping, it would at least provide concealment as well as needed transportation. From what Sam had seen, most of the vehicles-and there weren’t many-were in the same condition.

Gator and Sam crept slowly to the edge of town where the vehicle sat. A dog barked somewhere close and Gator turned his head toward it. The dog let out a soft whine and ceased barking. Sam went down on one knee and guarded Gator’s back while the Cajun hot-wired the van. Gator sent Sam a triumphant grin when the van rumbled to life. Sam jumped in on the other side and they got out of there quickly. A quarter mile away, they paused at the edge of the road long enough for the others to jump in the open side door.

“Wonderful carriage,” Kyle quipped.

“Nice work,” Ryland commented.

The van creaked and moaned, but it was running and that was all that counted. They only needed to get another ninety-two miles according to the GPS. Having a vehicle, even though it was rusted in three spots on the floorboards, allowing them to see the road beneath flashing by, meant they would make their destination by daybreak.

It was a long trip as a few more cars occasionally shared the road with them. Once a truckload of soldiers rumbled past and all of them held their breath, grateful the van was closed and nearly impossible to see into in the dark. Gator simply slowed and moved to the side, allowing the truck to rumble past them.

“Stop strokin’ that gun, Kyle,” Gator said. “You’re makin’ me nervous. I’m thinkin’ you’re about to make love to the damn thing.”

“She is purty,” Kyle said, giving the gun one last caress, his eyes watching the truck ahead. “Slow down a little, and let them get ahead of us, Gator.”

“What if they put up a roadblock?” Jonas asked.

Ryland opened one eye. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Can the chatter and let me sleep. We’ve got swimming to do and I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Do they have sharks off this coast?” Jonas asked.

Sam snickered. “You and those sharks, Jonas.”

“I have nightmares, man,” Jonas protested.

“I’ll feed you to a damn shark if you don’t let me sleep,” Ryland drawled.

Kadan and Nico exchanged amused glances.

Ryland opened both eyes. “I heard that. I’m not that old.”

They all laughed and tension eased now that the truckload of soldiers was well up ahead of them. They drove through the night and made it to the coast just before dawn broke. Working fast, they filled the waterproof bag lining their rucksacks with air. The combination of inflated bags, empty canteens, and removing anything unnecessary would allow them to float their weapons and remaining gear out to the boat with them.

For what they couldn’t carry, they dug a hole, piled in what was left of the gear, and used the remaining explosives saved for just such an occasion. They always destroyed anything that could later be used against them-or against another team-and anything that might identify them. They detonated the explosives as they waded out to sea.

Gator turned and waved with a big grin. “Nice meetin’ y’all.”

"Is Mari in the tunnel yet?” Lily asked.

Azami shook her head. “She’s refusing to go and I can’t say that I blame her. She wants guns and ammo. Briony took her twins down and she has Daniel. I’ve got Eiji with them and no one will get past him. He knows that they’re the main target and he’ll guard them with his life. We need all the available trained soldiers up here. I told Daiki to stay with Mari.”

“Mari will lose those babies if they get to her and try to make her move.”

“She’ll lose them anyway if she moves into the tunnel. It’s not like she can be carried in. She might let her husband, but she’s not budging and we don’t have time to argue. We have to get everything set for an assault on the compounds,” Azami pointed out. “In any case, we’re fairly certain Whitney doesn’t know about her pregnancy. You’ve done a good job of concealing it to the outside world.”

“I can’t believe he’s doing this,” Lily said, her eyes shimmering with tears. “He’s my father and yet he’s willing to put Daniel and me in danger just to get what he wants.”

Azami put her hand on Lily’s shoulder. “You know he isn’t the man you loved anymore, Lily. You’ve got to accept that. He’s changed, gone a little mad…”

“Or maybe a lot.”

Azami nodded. “The point is, once you can accept that he isn’t that man you love, you can get past this. Then he becomes the enemy and you have to see him that way. What if he’s standing between you and your child?”

Lily pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I just can’t believe that he would hurt Daniel. What would be the point?”

“Dissecting him to see what makes Daniel tick.” Azami hardened her heart. Lily had to understand the true danger. The men surrounding her buffered her from the things her father did. “Right now your husband and Sam have been left in hostile territory on Whitney’s order.” She glanced around and unbuttoned her shirt. “He did this to me when I was three. These scars were acquired before the age of three.”

She let Lily look her fill, her features twisted with horror, her eyes wide with shock. “He did that to you when you were a child?”

“My hair came in white,” Azami said. She touched her hair a little self consciously. “There’s a hell of a lot more, but the point is, pick up a gun and shoot the bastard if he gets near your son.”

Lily swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll do what I have to do, Azami. They aren’t coming into my home and trying to steal my son, or Briony’s for that matter. I’ll defend this place.”

Azami buttoned her shirt. “Let’s get to it then. Who’s running the show?”

“Ian’s in the war room now. I’m a strong telepath so I’ll build a bridge to anyone who isn’t,” Lily said.

“You’ll have to give Eiji and Daiki radios. I brought small ones for them. No one will pick up fifteen second transmissions. If anyone gets near the tunnels, which I doubt, or near Mari, they’ll take care of it,” Azami said with complete confidence.

She hurried in to find Ian directing his small army on the defense of both compounds.

“They’ll come at us in small groups,” Ian said. “Whitney doesn’t want the babies harmed, so I’m guessing they’ll try stealth to infiltrate. They have no idea we were warned that they’re coming. They think a sweet bunch of ladies are here all alone.”

“They’ve got another think coming,” Flame, Gator’s wife, said, with an indignant toss of her head. “Whitney always underestimates women.” She had thick, wine red hair and vivid green eyes sparkling with something between mischief and determination.

“He thinks you’re all flawed because most of you have problems with psychic overload,” Lily pointed out. “He has no idea we’ve been working on that. I’ll be with you, Dahlia. You have the most difficult time. Briony will be in the tunnels. She has a terrible problem when there’s violence, but she’ll defend the babies if she has no other choice.” She looked at Azami. “Just as I will.”

“I’ll be of more use to you outside,” Azami said.

“Me too,” Saber Calhoun, Jesse Calhoun’s wife, said. She was a small woman, extremely slight, looking more like a child than a grown woman. She had a cap of dark hair and large, violet blue eyes. She pressed her lips tight together and then looked Azami straight in the eye. “Do you remember me?” She swallowed hard, but refused to look away. “I practiced stopping hearts on you when you were just a toddler. Your hair was white when you were a child, but I’d know your eyes anywhere.”

Azami nodded solemnly. “I remember. Every one of us had to do things we didn’t want to do. I’m glad to see you made it out of there. You were always kind to me.”

“I didn’t feel kind,” Saber admitted. “I hated those days he would force me to work on you. I tried so hard to make him stop, but the more I protested, the worse he got. We all thought he killed you.”

“Apparently I don’t die so easy. He thinks I’m dead, and I’d prefer it stays that way,” Azami said.

“Ladies.” Ian snapped his fingers. “Do you think we could conduct old home week a little later? We’ve got this little problem happening right now.”

“Don’t sweat it, Ian,” Flame said. “These guys won’t know what hit them.”

He glared at her. “Do you plan on talking them to death? Damn, woman. You’re giving me gray hair.”

She looked him over judiciously. “You could use a little color there, Irishman. You’re sort of bland.”

Ian’s face went as red as his hair. All the women burst out laughing. He groaned and wiped his hand down his face. “There is clearly a breakdown of discipline in this room.”

The women burst out laughing again.

“Once you give women guns, Ian,” Jesse Calhoun pointed out, “all bets are off. You be careful out there. Take a couple of weapons with you.”

Saber leaned over and kissed him. “You take care as well. Don’t be a hero.”

“Stay to the north side,” Ian cautioned. “If for any reason you come around to any other side, let us know, so no one accidentally shoots you.” He glanced at Flame.

She gave another toss of her head. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me. I’m proficient with weapons. Wanna see?”

“Damn, woman, you’ve been living with that Cajun too long,” Ian said.

She leaned in close. “It will never be long enough, Ian.”

His blushed deepened. “Get out of here. And for God’s sake, don’t get shot or anything stupid like that. Gator would slice me into tiny pieces and feed me to the alligators.”

“He might not do that, but he’d tell his grandmother on you and then no more free meals for you. She’s pretty crazy about me,” Flame teased.

“Yeah, well,” Ian said gruffly, “all of you stick to the plan and we’ll get through this.”

Azami smiled at the man. He was surrounded by women and definitely out of his depth. Some men had a deep need to protect their women; Ian was clearly a man like that. He felt affection, if not love, for some of these women, Flame in particular, probably because he was so close to Gator, and he didn’t like the situation much. He couldn’t argue; the women were definitely capable and more than determined to protect their homes in spite of the fact that Whitney’s experiments produced a few negative effects when around psychic energy overload.

“We’ll be fine,” Lily said.

Azami and Saber left the room together, falling into stealth mode, almost without conscious thought. They moved in silence, even in the halls, Azami pausing for a moment to retrieve the weapons she’d stashed when Lily had come to talk to her.

“I’m happy you’re here, Thorn… Azami,” Saber corrected. “I’ve thought about you nearly every day. I prayed you were alive and happy somewhere. I used to make up stories to comfort myself. I’ve had a lot of nightmares,” she admitted.

Azami glanced at her as they slipped out the door and hurried into the woods. “I did have a great life. I was adopted by a wonderful man. He gave me two great brothers, a home, and a purpose. He trained, educated, and treated me with love and kindness. I’m guessing that’s a lot better than most of the girls had.”

“I wish I’d been a little older and could have stood up to him better,” Saber said.

“My father once said to me, there is no use wishing away your past. Experiences shape us and build us into who we are. He always told me that it was my past that made me strong. He told me it is always best to live in the moment.”

“Your father sounds like a very wise man,” Saber said.

“He was. I wish Sam could have met him.”

“Sam Johnson?” Saber stopped, crouching low in the brush. “You and Sam?”

Azami nodded.

They’re making their way up the north side, a four man team, Lily reported.

Azami heard the whispers in her mind as Lily told each of the groups of defenders where the small four man teams were invading the two compounds. She pushed the sound to the back of her mind so she could be “in the moment” completely. She signaled Saber to her left, and Saber virtually disappeared into the brush.

Azami listened for the sound of the men moving toward them, fanned out, expecting to come up on a sleeping compound. These were Whitney’s private army, growing smaller with each encounter with GhostWalkers, according to her informant. She was determined that these four men who had come to kidnap the infants would not be returning. Eventually Whitney was going to find himself without too many friends and then, for the first time, he’d truly be vulnerable.

A radio muttered and she heard the command. “Get the thermite in place.”

Lily, tell everyone that they plan to blow up some of the houses as a distraction, Azami reported. The assault wasn’t going to be on the two main gathering buildings, but on some of the outlying buildings probably to draw off anyone left at the two compounds.

The night was dark, swirling clouds blotting out any semblance of moon. The wind tugged at her face, cool, reminding her that fall was creeping toward winter and up in the mountains, it got cold. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Saber go prone, wiggling beneath the brush into a small animal trail. One touch of Saber’s hand and she could disturb a man’s heart, disrupt it enough to actually kill him. Azami certainly knew what it felt like. Her heart actually jumped at the memory-and it wasn’t the same heart.

She shook off her past. Her father was right. She had to be in the present, and thinking about something she had no control over did her no good at all. One enemy at a time. She heard a small rustle and then a murmur as the man approaching just to her right spoke into his radio in a soft voice, telling his leader he was in position and ready to invade the house. He was a good distance away, but clearly he expected to ease his way through the trees and rush to cover across the open space as soon as the explosions started. She expected fireworks, but it wouldn’t be the same ones Whitney’s men expected.

She waited, patient and still. To her left, in the direction Saber had taken, she heard a thud. Branches snapped. Her target turned his head toward the sound. Before he could say anything into his radio, she put an arrow through his heart. He went down gracefully, slumping over, still clutching his weapon.

In the distance, toward Team Two’s compound, she heard gunfire. Bright, orange red flames danced, the night suddenly glowing from somewhere to the front of the main structure she was guarding. A fireball whooshed through the air, like a bright comet. Nico’s wife, Dahlia, defending her home.

Azami moved to her right, falling back a little, to stay in front of the soldier making his way toward the helicopter hangar, determined to destroy the GhostWalkers’ compound. Her home. She would be living here with these people who were like her, who could accept her differences. No one was touching her home.

She heard him coming almost before she could get set. She had no time to get out of his way. He was of medium build and moved easily through the forest, with hardly a whisper of a sound. He parted a bush and was face-to-face with her. She stepped into him, shoving his gun up as she drove the knife deep into his chest. His finger closed on the trigger and the gun roared in her ear, but his body was already slumping to the ground. He had one arm around her, and the deadweight nearly pulled her down.

Saber emerged from the bushes, twigs and leaves in her hair. She had a gun in her hand and fire in her eyes. Visibly relaxing, she helped Azami shove Whitney’s man aside. In every direction, they could hear the firefight raging.

“You okay?” Saber asked.

Azami nodded. “You?”

Saber took a breath. “Yeah. I guess so. I really did promise myself I wouldn’t do this again, but no one is going to take the babies from us. They aren’t going to live the life we did. I got two of them.”

“I’m with you,” Azami agreed. “And I also managed to get two. That should be the four man team.”

They did a quick reconnaissance of the area.

Clear, moving around to the west, Azami reported.

Negative, Lily said. The boys are making a sweep, but we think we’re good. They didn’t get near either house. Poor Mari was really hoping someone would walk through her door. Come on in.

They walked together, keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings, just in case someone had been missed.

“Did you have a difficult time trusting Lily?” Azami asked Saber.

Saber glanced at her. “At first,” she answered honestly. “But she’s shared all of her money to build these compounds and to make each GhostWalker independently wealthy. She’s worked tirelessly to help those of us who aren’t anchors be able to just walk down a street without freaking out. She’s solidly on our side, Azami. I think all of us not only love her but have developed a very large protective streak where she’s concerned.”

Azami smiled at her. The hint of warning was subtle, but there. “I absolutely hear what you’re saying, Saber, and I can understand it,” she agreed mildly. “I’m planning on making this my home, so she’ll have one more person looking out for her.”

Saber’s smile was relieved. “I’m glad you’ll be here. I missed you. You were more like family to me than anyone. I have Jesse now, the GhostWalkers, and Jesse’s family. I sometimes pinch myself to make certain I’m not in a fairy tale. He built a house for his sister, Patsy, right near ours.”

“I am so looking forward to Sam coming home,” Azami admitted. “I try not to worry about him, but I can’t help it. I found myself wanting to contact him via satellite just to make certain he’s alive and well.”

Saber laughed. “Let’s get inside and let the boys handle the rest of this. We can have tea and have a nice long visit. I want you to meet Jesse.”