Samurai Game
Page 18

“I think a good cup of tea would be excellent right now,” Thorn said. She loved the tea ritual her father had often used to calm her when, as a child, she was unable to find her center. Just the thought of her father comforted her and continued to infuse her with confidence.
Tucker’s white teeth flashed at her. “You’re the second woman to suggest tea in a situation like this. I have to admit, I drank it with her, but I’m a coffee man myself.”
“The tea ritual is always comforting,” she said. “It’s always nice after a battle.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Do you often go into battle?”
“I was trained from the time I was a child in the way of the samurai by my father. It is a way of life, and the use of weapons as well as hand-to-hand combat is part of the lifestyle. Of course along with traditional weapons and fighting technique, we were required to master the modern arts of warfare as well as weapons. So, I guess you can say, I often go into battle. We keep up our skills. Our company provides this training for our employees. My brothers and I often instruct as well as train in order to stay sharp.”
“Your father must have been an unusual man.”
Thorn nodded. “Most unusual and wonderful. I miss him every day.” Her soft voice was infused with the warmth of a million memories.
The thought of her father brought her even more confidence and completely settled the last of the nerves in her stomach. Daiki and Eiji were both men of honor, like her father. She had never thought to meet a man who might live up to what her father and brothers were—until she met Sam. She knew his mind intimately. He would sacrifice his own happiness for the good of his team. He would sacrifice willingly his life for theirs. He knew what duty and honor were and stood for both.
Thorn found it strange that when she had finally set into motion her plan to track down Whitney and serve him justice or at the very least cut off his supporters and put him on the run, she found a man she could believe in—one she could trust.
“Life is very strange,” she murmured aloud.
“That it is,” Tucker agreed. “We had no idea we’d be cleaning up a full-scale assault on our guests. We don’t always use this road. It’s a private one we put in ourselves. In the winter it’s completely impassable. We use snowmobiles or winter vehicles on the public road. It’s odd that they would set up an ambush here. How could they possibly know we would use this route to bring you and your brothers up to the compound?”
Thorn turned the question over in her mind. “There are two routes and you never choose one ahead of time?”
Tucker shook his head. “We deliberately set no pattern when we’re traveling.”
“Maybe that’s why they had the second helicopter and it came late to the party,” she speculated. “They might have had a welcoming committee on both roads. A helicopter and two vehicles per road. Once they knew the route they could call for the others to back them up. They weren’t that far away. A Jeep could cut through the forest and a helicopter just had to fly like a bird in a straight line.”
Tucker nodded. “Not bad.”
She sent him a small smile. “A test? Or not bad for a girl? You already knew that, didn’t you?”
He grinned at her. “Our women are on the feisty side, just like you. You sit there very demure and look sweet, but you’re a tiger in sheep’s clothing. If Sam’s all worried about you, he’s worried about the wrong woman.”
Thorn inclined her head. “You might tell him that when he wakes up.”
CHAPTER 7
Sam struggled into a sitting position, his lungs screaming for air, sweat dripping down his face into his eyes. He threw an arm over his stinging eyes and took a deep breath, fighting for air. Blood thundered in his ears and his throat felt swollen and raw. He swore and shoved at the damp, springing curls spilling onto his forehead. He was never going to sleep again, that much was clear.
He’d seen a lot of really ugly things in his life, but his nightmares of torturing children—little girls—horrified him. He could never get to the child, no matter how hard he tried. He woke exhausted, in a panic, bile rising, every muscle in his body tight with tension and his mind in chaotic horror for the small child.
“What is it, Sam?” Lily Whitney-Miller asked. She handed him a damp washcloth. “You aren’t sleeping more than a couple minutes at a time and you wake up like this. Your pulse rate is out of control. Can you tell me what’s happening? You’ve been like this for nearly seventy-two hours.”
He swallowed down another curse, took the cool cloth and rubbed his face, breathing in and out to regain some semblance of control. “Nightmares. They’re bad, Lily. I’ve never had anything like this in my life.”
“What kinds of things are you dreaming about?”
“Doctors torturing children—little girls.” He cleared his throat to manage an intelligent sound. “Operating unnecessarily on them, Lily. Over and over.” He was going to keep to himself that the “little girls” was always specifically one girl—Azami. He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing that child being dissected without anesthesia.
Lily frowned, her brows drawing together. “Forgive me for bringing this up, Sam, but prior to the general and his wife fostering you, you lived in a very abusive household. Perhaps you had nightmares as a child and the trauma you suffered is re-creating the memories.”
“What trauma?” He was genuinely puzzled. The only trauma he’d suffered was the damn nightmare.
“Sam.” Lily’s voice dropped low. Her doctor-to-patient voice made him wince. “You were shot. You were forced to kill several men in order to protect our guests. I think that’s trauma enough for anyone to produce such nightmares.”
He shook his head. “No way. I’ve been shot, stabbed, and I’ve killed. Hell, Lily. How many times have you patched me up? You know I’ve never had anything like this before. I’m afraid to close my eyes.”
“Any soldier can start exhibiting PTSD at any time,” she reminded, her voice gentle.
Sam shook his head. “It isn’t that, Lily. I probably should be more bothered by the things I’ve had to do than I am. We’ve talked about it many times. I feel I have the right to defend myself. In any case, I believe in what I’m doing. This isn’t PTSD.”
“When did the nightmares start?”
He shrugged, reluctant to continue talking on the subject. He wanted to ask where Azami was. She was on his mind every moment, yet he was afraid now that they were back in the real world, she would reject him completely.
“It’s important, Sam. I need to know.”
He sighed and scrubbed back the hair tumbling on his forehead with both hands. It was nearly impossible to refuse Lily when she used that tone. She’d become like a sister to all the men when she wasn’t “mothering” them. “In the operating room. The nightmares started in the operating room.”
“Tell me about them.”
He shrugged. “They’re nightmares, Lily—like a horror movie unfolding. An insane doctor is operating on a little girl over and over without anesthesia. Other terrible experiments as well, all with the same child. I’m not into horror films, but I swear this was a mad scientist taking apart people alive just to see what made them tick.” Belligerence had crept into his voice. He felt like a little kid admitting to his mommy he was afraid of the closet monster.
Lily looked even more concerned. “You’ve been operated on before, Sam. Has this happened before? Nightmares? Anything like this, maybe on a lesser scale?”
“What difference does it make?” He was sick of talking about it, sick of thinking about it, afraid he’d never get those images of horror out of his mind.
“You were given second-generation Zenith. I need to know if it has side effects. And it’s important to always document any problems with anesthesia. It helps me to be better in the field. All four GhostWalker teams share information. We want to be able to set up surgery in minutes and give the best possible care right on the spot. Sometimes—such as in your case—minutes count.”
That made sense. Lily made perfect sense, and he was all over the place. He needed sleep, but most of all he needed to know that Azami was still close and that she was all right. Lily had just given him the perfect reason to ask about Azami and the second-generation Zenith—why she would have it, how she got it—but he wasn’t ready to find out if his betrayal of her abilities to Ryland had led to any harm to her.
“No, Lily, I’ve never had nightmares like this before in my life.” He was careful to keep from looking at her. “Doctors operating on children without anesthesia? No way. I never imagined my mind could go there.”
Lily pulled up a chair and sat rather gingerly as if her leg was hurting her. She always walked with a limp, but Sam had never asked her why. Too much time had passed and he thought it would upset her. She always acted as if she didn’t notice her limp, but once, someone had mentioned it and for a moment, her confidence had vanished and she looked like a young girl, very unsure of herself. Sam, as well as the others on his team, had felt instantly protective of her when she’d revealed that small vulnerability.
She let out a small sigh of relief. “In some ways, your nightmares make sense, Sam. You were operated on in the field and just before I went into the tent, Azami asked me if we were going to operate on you without anesthesia. I thought it was a strange question, but if she was worried about it, you could have been as well. In any case, you very well could have overheard her comment and it stayed in your subconscious. You fought going under. We had a difficult time with you at first.”
Lily’s explanation was more than reasonable, but it didn’t make the nightmares any less intense. He definitely wasn’t going back to sleep, but he nodded to reassure her. Lily mothered all of them, although she was younger than many of them. He always enjoyed his conversations with her—she was extremely intelligent and he appreciated the mental stimulation when they had discussions. He didn’t like worrying her.
“You look tired, Lily. Were you up all night with me again or with Daniel?” Her son was a constant source of amusement—and worry—to all of them. He was highly intelligent, active, inquisitive, and able to find clever ways to elude capture when he escaped. He often was most active at night—and impossible to see if he didn’t want to be seen.
Still, he was the joy in all of their lives. Daniel represented hope to them. He loved nothing more than spending time with each of his “uncles.” Each “uncle” knew the compound had to be secure—that Whitney would do anything to get his hands on one of the babies born to a GhostWalker. More than anything else, the GhostWalkers protected Daniel and his mother.
“My beloved child escaped again last night. I hope you know all of you have contributed to his delinquency—and he’s not a year old yet.”
Sam tried to look innocent. “False accusations.” He pressed his hand over his heart. “How can you say such things?”
“Maybe catching you teaching him to climb and Jonas showing him how to pick a lock might have something to do with it, although I suppose I should be grateful Jonas didn’t teach him the art of throwing knives.”
“That’s next year. Where did he go this time?”
“He found his way into the tunnels. Don’t ask me how.”
Sam burst out laughing. He loved the baby, as did all the men. They took turns watching him while Lily did research and generally worked her butt off for them. Unfortunately, Daniel was so advanced that they often forgot they were talking to an infant and stimulated his mind into behavior Lily didn’t approve of.
“Ryland says if it wasn’t so dangerous to do it, he’d microchip him so he’d know where he was at all times,” Lily admitted, laughing with him.