“I think we both had other things on our minds,” Thorn said truthfully. “The adrenaline’s wearing off.”
“We can get you back up to the compound if you’re anxious to see your brothers.” Tucker sounded reluctant but willing.
Thorn didn’t blame him. Clearly he wanted to make certain Sam remained alive. She shook her head, sending him a quick smile. “I think I’ll stick around. You know how it is. When you’re in combat with someone, you get close fast. He was pretty amazing. I want to know firsthand that he’s going to make it.”
“Are you telepathic?”
The question was so casual, the tone equally so, that for a moment it almost didn’t register. Tucker Addison was very smooth at interrogation without seeming to be. He acted as if he was making innocent conversation. Thorn took her time, fussing with the pins in her hair, restoring a semblance of order as she looked up toward the blue sky. Night was still a few hours off, but the wind was picking up, blowing a few clouds overhead.
“Yes. I haven’t spoken to another telepath since my childhood.” That was strictly honest. “I found it exhilarating, shocking, and a little frightening that Sam had such a strong ability. I could hear him when he spoke to me.” She flashed a small smile and reached for a leaf, examining the thin veins running through it. “The gift came in quite handy during the battle.”
“Why wouldn’t Sam let Lily put him under?” Tucker crouched down opposite her, his gaze intent on her face.
Thorn shrugged. It was always better to stick as close to the truth as possible. “He was worried about me. We fought together, and I think he believed I was his responsibility—at least that’s what it felt like to me. He stepped between me and the soldiers several different times. I told him I was fine and that I’d stay close. That seemed to satisfy him.”
She was back to the game of wits, and her confidence was coming back. She knew how to be Azami Yoshiie, inside and out. She was samurai through and through. Her father’s daughter. That eight-year-old child, with all of her insecurities and terrible memories, was locked behind the door. Azami just had to keep her there.
So far, Tucker was making polite conversation, slipping in a clever question every now and then, but he hadn’t asked the significant question—where had she gotten second-generation Zenith. It wasn’t on the market as of yet. No one should know about it. So how had she? And how had she acquired it? Good questions that would require real answers. She knew he would wait until she was inside the compound where the GhostWalker teams would easily have the upper hand.
“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.