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.