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Authors: Christine Feehan
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protection very seriously.”
Sam liked the soft, melodic quality to her voice, and it sucked big-time that he even noticed it, let alone allowed it to affect him when they were surrounded by danger. Maybe that was the problem—wasn’t danger supposed to heighten attraction?
He dug his toes into soft dirt and propelled himself up the slope, signaling her to stay quiet. The first vehicle was just ahead. He could hear their voices, hushed but clear, traveling through the forest. Moving slightly, he caught a brief look at the enemy through the heavy foliage. They were partially hidden by heavy brush, and he’d have to go down a slope and up another to reach them.
“Wait for the spotter, Tony, he’s swinging back around,” a man standing behind the Jeep advised.
“Where the hell are they?” Tony, the driver, tapped out his impatience while the other three soldiers surrounding the Jeep exchanged a quick, annoyed look. Clearly they were far more experienced than their driver and had more patience.
Sam knew his biggest problem was the eye in the sky. Most likely they could see the heat from their bodies, otherwise the copter would be useless in the thick canopy. Azami must have realized the same thing. She rolled out to the edge of the open, coming up on one knee as she strung an arrow into her bow, aiming up toward the empty sky. She went perfectly still, leaves and twigs caught in her hair and papering her very expensive pin-striped suit so that she nearly blended in with her surroundings.
Sam took advantage of her change of position. All he needed was to get his enemy in clear sight, and he preferred to do so without an audience. He dug his elbows into the soft dirt and leaves, scuttling up the slope like a lizard until he was able to look over a rotting log. Three men, armed with automatic weapons, stood beside a Jeep. They were dressed like hunters, but their weapons were for killing men. The driver sat at the wheel, looking up toward the sky, eager to get on his way.
The wash from the helicopter struck Sam before the overgrown dragonfly came dancing through the sky. The door was open and a man crouched just inside, an automatic weapon cradled in his arms. The pilot was skilled, maneuvering through the heavy canopy to give his gunner the best advantage.
Azami calmly let her arrow fly, sending it on its way and instantly following with a second so fast the two shots were nearly simultaneous. The first arrow went through the throat of the gunner, and the second took the pilot through his eye. At once the helicopter lurched like a giant wounded bird.
Sam wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Teleportation was something he’d studied and tried to understand on an intellectual level. He had taken part in the research and knew there were several studies under way—including at Samurai Telecommunications—that were on the verge of discovering just how it all could be done, but not with a human being. In theory, the person teleporting would be reproduced and then destroyed while his copy ended up somewhere else. He knew how it worked on things , transporting particles, but not how he was able to do it so smoothly. He no longer cared about the how—maybe he could really move faster than light and he simply appeared to teleport.
Sam projected his body to that spot directly behind the man at the rear of the vehicle. The mercenary’s attention was directed to the sky, his eyes wide with shock, his fingers around his gun without a real understanding of what just happened. Sam gripped the mercenary’s head in two very large, strong hands and wrenched, dropping him onto the ground, neck broken. Another burst of speed had him behind the man who had stepped out on the passenger side. Sam used a knife, dragging him backward, lowering him to the ground, and moving once more.
To move numerous times with that burst of speed was dangerous, causing his stomach to churn and his mind to go fuzzy around the edges.
Sam liked the soft, melodic quality to her voice, and it sucked big-time that he even noticed it, let alone allowed it to affect him when they were surrounded by danger. Maybe that was the problem—wasn’t danger supposed to heighten attraction?
He dug his toes into soft dirt and propelled himself up the slope, signaling her to stay quiet. The first vehicle was just ahead. He could hear their voices, hushed but clear, traveling through the forest. Moving slightly, he caught a brief look at the enemy through the heavy foliage. They were partially hidden by heavy brush, and he’d have to go down a slope and up another to reach them.
“Wait for the spotter, Tony, he’s swinging back around,” a man standing behind the Jeep advised.
“Where the hell are they?” Tony, the driver, tapped out his impatience while the other three soldiers surrounding the Jeep exchanged a quick, annoyed look. Clearly they were far more experienced than their driver and had more patience.
Sam knew his biggest problem was the eye in the sky. Most likely they could see the heat from their bodies, otherwise the copter would be useless in the thick canopy. Azami must have realized the same thing. She rolled out to the edge of the open, coming up on one knee as she strung an arrow into her bow, aiming up toward the empty sky. She went perfectly still, leaves and twigs caught in her hair and papering her very expensive pin-striped suit so that she nearly blended in with her surroundings.
Sam took advantage of her change of position. All he needed was to get his enemy in clear sight, and he preferred to do so without an audience. He dug his elbows into the soft dirt and leaves, scuttling up the slope like a lizard until he was able to look over a rotting log. Three men, armed with automatic weapons, stood beside a Jeep. They were dressed like hunters, but their weapons were for killing men. The driver sat at the wheel, looking up toward the sky, eager to get on his way.
The wash from the helicopter struck Sam before the overgrown dragonfly came dancing through the sky. The door was open and a man crouched just inside, an automatic weapon cradled in his arms. The pilot was skilled, maneuvering through the heavy canopy to give his gunner the best advantage.
Azami calmly let her arrow fly, sending it on its way and instantly following with a second so fast the two shots were nearly simultaneous. The first arrow went through the throat of the gunner, and the second took the pilot through his eye. At once the helicopter lurched like a giant wounded bird.
Sam wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Teleportation was something he’d studied and tried to understand on an intellectual level. He had taken part in the research and knew there were several studies under way—including at Samurai Telecommunications—that were on the verge of discovering just how it all could be done, but not with a human being. In theory, the person teleporting would be reproduced and then destroyed while his copy ended up somewhere else. He knew how it worked on things , transporting particles, but not how he was able to do it so smoothly. He no longer cared about the how—maybe he could really move faster than light and he simply appeared to teleport.
Sam projected his body to that spot directly behind the man at the rear of the vehicle. The mercenary’s attention was directed to the sky, his eyes wide with shock, his fingers around his gun without a real understanding of what just happened. Sam gripped the mercenary’s head in two very large, strong hands and wrenched, dropping him onto the ground, neck broken. Another burst of speed had him behind the man who had stepped out on the passenger side. Sam used a knife, dragging him backward, lowering him to the ground, and moving once more.
To move numerous times with that burst of speed was dangerous, causing his stomach to churn and his mind to go fuzzy around the edges.
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