Christine Feehan: Samurai Game

It was whispered in Japan that Mamoru Yoshiie earned his real living as an assassin. The yakuza were rarely spoken of, especially in polite company, and when it was implied Yoshiie had some association with them, that had been firmly denied by the yakuza itself. They left the man strictly alone and some said it was Yoshiie one went to if they were in trouble with the local crime lord. Sam doubted if any of it was true until he’d met Yoshiie’s adopted daughter and his sons. All three moved with the skill of a consummate fighter.

“We were expecting at least two bodyguards to accompany you,” Sam directed his statement to Daiki. “We do have accommodations for them as well if you would feel more comfortable.”

“Azami and Eiji are my bodyguards when we are installing software for a satellite as important as this one. We know that most companies do not want strangers living and working where sensitive material might be exposed. We endeavor to make our clients as comfortable as possible.”

That made sense and it explained the way Azami’s eyes had continually swept the small airport and the roofs of the buildings, but it didn’t explain the way his body reacted so strongly to her.

“Why are we waiting?” Azami inquired very politely.

Sam couldn’t keep his gaze from shifting to the rearview mirror. Azami wasn’t looking at him-or Daiki. She peered through the tinted windows, obviously expecting trouble.

“We know a man of Daiki’s stature has enemies,” Sam said, his tone very matter-of-fact. “We had men in position to cover anyone taking undue notice of your arrival. They’ll be here in a moment or two.”

He kept his glaze glued to the rearview mirror, observing Azami’s reaction to the news. She turned her head slowly and met his eyes in the mirror. He felt the impact all the way to his toes. His blood went hot, rushing through his veins, flooding his groin with need. He kept his expression composed, but only with effort. She was potent, that sweet, demure-looking bodyguard sitting directly behind him. He had no doubt she could take off his head in seconds. So much for the intellectual, computer-nerd types.

She inclined her head, regal princess to the peasant who had just scored. She had known his men were out there all right-she wasn’t in the least surprised-but she didn’t like them climbing into the SUV and seating themselves directly behind her and Eiji, neatly flanking them, taking away any advantage they may have had.

Nico and Kadan both carried large, solid briefcases, clearly housing their sniper rifles. Neither tried to hide the fact as they slipped inside. Sam kept his eyes locked with Azami’s. She didn’t even turn her head or flick a glance toward the two men as they entered-and that was more the mark of a professional than anything else could have been. She was too sure of herself. Sam swore to himself. They were in real trouble, but he couldn’t figure out how or why.

These were businesspeople. They were known throughout the international community as well as having been vetted by every separate military, CIA, and Homeland Security committee that could possibly investigate them. They were under intense scrutiny, just by the fact that they produced and sold high-resolution satellites. Their software and their satellites were considered the best in the world. How could every agency have made such a mistake?

Sam wanted to doubt himself, he really did. The woman was the first one who had really intrigued him, both mentally and physically. Maybe it was the challenge, but deep down, he knew this woman’s destiny was tangled with his. Good or bad, they were somehow intertwined. He’d rather their relationship was positive, but that nagging radar of his wouldn’t shut up. Something was very off about all three visitors.

“Kadan Montague and Nicolas Trevane,” he offered by way of introduction after he’d identified their guests.

All three gave a slight head bow toward the newcomers. Azami continued to look at Sam through the mirror, her eyes like that of a cat, tilted and wide, fringed with feathery black lashes that swept down demurely when her brother turned his head to look at her. Sam wasn’t buying the act. He started the SUV, sending up a silent prayer that Nico and Kadan wouldn’t be lulled into a false sense of security by Lily’s positive IDs. The back of his neck itched. Azami Yoshiie was more than a damned bodyguard, and it was going to require a fair amount of discipline to keep his mind on his driving.

The mountain road was hazardous, the switchbacks tight and the road narrow once they were away from the small town. Sam set his teeth and drove. He could feel his heart beating in his chest and he did a little slow breathing. It made sense that Daiki Yoshiie would travel with bodyguards who could protect him as well as teach clients the installation and use of the necessary software for their products. Being bodyguards explained the way they all three moved, and if half of the rumors circulating about Mamoru Yoshiie were true, he would have taught his children to defend themselves. So if it all made sense, then why was he so uneasy?

“Would you like music?” he asked Daiki politely. Making casual conversation was usually quite easy for him, but he felt he had the proverbial sword poised at his neck, making it a little more difficult to think up topics of interest.

“It is not necessary,” Daiki replied with equal politeness. “I do not require music or conversation to be comfortable. I enjoy the surroundings, and your mountains are quite beautiful.”

“And remote,” Eiji added. “This road does not appear as if it gets much traffic.”

Sam had veered off the main road leading to the Lolo National Forest, to take a private road most of those residing in the complex of homes within the fortress used. The road was a little steeper than the other one, but it cut through the thicker forest, the canopy of trees forming a natural ceiling above them, hiding them from possible eyes in the sky.

“The compound is remote,” Sam said. “It affords us privacy. The research is very delicate and security is tight.”

“I understand Dr. Miller resides on the premises of her research center,” Daiki continued.

Sam sent him a sharp glance and looked in the rearview mirror. Both Kadan and Nico looked as if they were lounging lazily in the far backseats, but he knew their expressions very well. The moment Lily was mentioned in conjunction with her residence, both had gone to full alert. At all costs, Lily’s son needed to be protected from any outsiders. He had been born with exceptional qualities, and everyone knew her father, Peter Whitney, would do anything to get his hands on the boy or at least gather evidence that the child was different.

“Have you met Lily?” Sam asked, knowing the answer. He’d been in Pakistan hunting high-profile al-Qaeda targets when the four GhostWalker teams had made the decision to acquire a high-resolution satellite of their own.

The money in the GhostWalker fund allowed the astonishingly expensive but necessary purchase, but it was the security that concerned all four teams. They had known someone from Samurai Telecommunications would have to spend time at both compounds while they learned to handle the satellite.

“She came in with her husband to our DC office several times,” Daiki said. “An extremely brilliant woman.”

Why the hell did he feel so damned edgy? That was Lily. Anyone meeting her nearly always used that adjective to describe her, yet Sam’s radar wouldn’t stop shrieking at him. If anything, it was in full-blown alarm mode. He glanced in the mirror again, then to his right and left. If someone had been behind him, he should have seen dust. Still…

“Do you have someone following us?” Sam asked simultaneously with Azami.