“Fat help you are,” Sam accused. “I could use a little confidence here.”
Kyle snorted. “You don’t have a chance, buddy.”
“Goin’ to meet your maker,” Gator added solemnly.
Jeff crossed himself as he hung five toes off the edge of the table. “Sorry, old son, you don’t have a prayer. You’re about to meet up with a couple of hungry sharks.”
“Have you ever actually used a sword before?” Kadan asked, all innocent.
Jonas drew his knife and began to sharpen it. “Funny thing about blade men, they always like to go for the throat.” He grinned up at Sam. “Just a little tip. Keep your chin down.”
“You’re all a big help,” Sam said and stepped out into the hall.
This was the biggest moment of his life. If they turned him down, he was lost. Azami wouldn’t go against her brothers. She might go her own way in battle, but she would never defy her family over something so important as a spouse. He wished he’d asked her a few more questions about the customs. He had no idea what would be an insult and what wouldn’t.
Sam moved through the house to the second wing. Lily and Ryland’s home contained all the offices and a maze of halls that led to Lily’s laboratories. The guest wing adjoined the meeting rooms, giving guests and the resident family plenty of privacy. Each of the members of Team One had their own home, built in the forest but protected by the main compound. The training center was on the other side of the laboratories, a large complex where the team could practice on a daily basis. There was a large indoor pool to work out in as well as an armory, although each home contained a separate armory.
The small hospital was connected to the laboratories. Sam was grateful that Lily had chosen to have him in her small guest bedroom sometimes used as an infirmary for a team member recovering from a wound that didn’t need around the clock care. Sam disliked hospitals on principle. Staying in Lily’s house was always warm and friendly. All the men stopped by and visited and even baby Daniel came to see him.
He stopped in front of the largest guest room. It had a large sitting room and private bathroom for important business guests such as Daiki and Eiji Yoshiie. There was no sound, but he knew they were in there waiting for him. They had bugged the war room in order to better protect their sister. He had no doubt that in spite of the fact that they weren’t psychic, both men were skillful warriors.
He couldn’t believe that his hands were clammy and his heart pounding. He’d gone into full-scale battle with less apprehension. Both men spoke excellent English, so there was no language barrier, and if truth be told, he spoke fluent Japanese. Standing in front of the door, he took a moment to inspect his clothing. He was barefoot, wore jeans and a carelessly buttoned shirt that had a few bloodstains clinging to it. Damn. He should have changed.
What the hell was he doing? He should have carried her off like a caveman. He could persuade her to marry him. Wine. Sex. Candlelight. Yeah, he could manage that. But asking stone-face swordsmen for permission? They were probably laughing at his predicament. He would be if Azami was his sister.
Sam took a breath and knocked on the door before he talked himself out of it—a polite knock when he wanted to pound until the door broke down and he just demanded they hand her over to him. He wasn’t going away without her. If she thought about it too long, she’d change her mind. What sane woman wouldn’t?
The door swung open slowly and Eiji’s broad frame filled the doorway. He stared at Sam without expression, his dark eyes thoughtful. “May I help you?”
If the man was a team member, Sam would have told him to can the crap; after all, they knew exactly why he’d come. He gave a slight bow instead and tried a tentative smile.
“Please excuse my attire; I had no other clothes with me.” He nearly groaned. That had been a little reminder that he’d gone into battle, but maybe not such a good idea. He’d been wounded. They might think he wasn’t a good enough soldier to protect their sister. “The matter is urgent or I wouldn’t have disturbed you so late. I wish to speak to you and your brother.”
Eiji studied him a moment longer and then stepped back, his robes flowing around him as he did, using that same fluid motion Sam recognized in Azami. The apartment was lit with candles rather than the harsher lights overhead. A Go game was laid out between two chairs on the smaller coffee table, and clearly they’d been playing. He couldn’t help but notice that a long samurai sword lay inches from Daiki’s fingertips, enclosed in the ornate scabbard.
Daiki rose and gave that studied, perfect bow that made the two men seem as if they were traditional warriors of old.
“I had hoped that your wounds were not so bad,” he greeted. “Thank you for looking after Azami.”
Sam breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself a smile. “I think it was mutual.”
Daiki waved him toward a chair. Sam nearly groaned. Not another chair. He could get in and out of one, but he looked like an old man doing it. He took a deep breath and took the plunge.
“I don’t know how this is done in your family, so I’m just going to get right to the point. I would like your permission to marry Azami. I know I’m not much to look at and I’m in a high-risk job, but we’re … we … fit. I’ll make her happy. I know I will.”
“Her happiness is not of paramount importance,” Daiki said. “Her safety is our first priority. Azami would throw herself in front of a bullet for the ones she loves.”
Sam heard the dark warning in Azami’s brother’s voice. Daiki Yoshiie was definitely a man of confidence. He talked with great intelligence, his voice cultured and smooth, yet he moved like the whisper of the wind. The man would hold his own in any fight—if you ever saw him. Their father had trained them in the way of the samurai and it had become their way of life. They chose to put the principles into business, but nevertheless, they could use them just as easily if needed to defend themselves.
“As would I,” Sam said. He didn’t know what else to say. Daiki told him the truth about Azami and Sam knew it was true. There would be no stopping what he knew was central to her character any more than they could stop the need to protect those he loved in him. He was certain that simple statement was a test to see his reaction. Azami was Azami and there was no changing her, nor would he want to do so.
“She is her own woman. I will protect her with my life and love and value her for all my days.” He felt silly saying the truth aloud to strangers even if the men were Azami’s brothers.