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with intelligence and his curly black hair invited a woman to run her fingers through it.
    Thorn was rarely shaken by anything, especially by the appearance of a man—after all, she’d trained with very fit men for years—but for some reason, this man shook her when no one ever did. He walked with the confidence of a GhostWalker, very skilled, an exceptional warrior who knew his worth. Sam “Knight” Johnson.
    She’d studied his file in great detail. He was renowned for his hand-to-hand combat skills and he’d been a member of the team that had gone into the Congo to rescue Ken Norton. There was nothing in his files to indicate what psychic skills he had or what Whitney had done to enhance him, but the way he walked, fluid, his body flowing over the ground, made her think of a great jungle cat. She noticed he made no noise when he walked and when he stopped, he went absolutely still.
    Sam Johnson had multiple degrees in molecular biology, biochemistry, and astrophysics as well as nuclear physics. He’d been an orphan, raised in numerous foster homes before General Theodore Ranier and his wife, Delia, had recognized the extraordinary intelligence of the boy who had stolen their car. The general talked the court into allowing him to be responsible for Sam, and then he and his wife had taken the boy in. It was the general who had seen to it that Sam was educated. Only after satisfying General Ranier’s demand for a higher education did Sam make the decision to follow in the general’s footsteps and join the army.
    His career had been—extraordinary. He was highly decorated and had run multiple covert operations successfully, building a reputation in the Rangers before joining the GhostWalker program. There he had received additional specialized training as well as enhancements, once again performing with excellence, honor, and courage. He had run numerous missions in Yemen, searching, finding, and taking out high-profile al-Qaeda targets, again without any recognition or fanfare. He was brilliant, an amazing soldier, and had contributed significantly to his country’s safety, and yet this was the man Whitney was so willing to sacrifice.
    “Welcome to Superior,” Sam said with a slight bow. “Thank you so much for coming.”
    His bow, though Americanized, was not in the least awkward, she decided. She could see why the GhostWalkers would send him as an emissary. He was almost courtly, his manners impeccable. Intelligence shone in his eyes and, she reminded herself, he was a GhostWalker, capable of things no one would ever believe.
    If both Teams One and Two trusted this man to vet visitors, she would have to be very careful. It didn’t help that his voice nearly mesmerized her—and maybe that was an enhancement right there. He was the enemy. She had to think of all of them as her enemy. She kept her eyes downcast, presenting one of her best disguises, hiding in plain sight. Few people ever looked past the powerful Daiki Yoshiie, part owner of the largest international telecommunications company in the world. He was a billionaire and a trusted man in the world of business. Like the samurai of old, his word was his bond. Few knew that it was his adopted sister, Azami, who was the brains behind the company and that she developed all the audio communications for the satellites while Eiji developed the lens.
    Sam had to force himself not to stare at the woman. She stood between the two men, but slightly behind them, which bothered him on some strange, elemental level he didn’t know existed. She was very small, and unlike the traditional businesswomen of Japan who usually wore skirts, she wore the same navy, pin-striped suit as her male counterparts. He’d studied the films on all of them, and she often wore this severe-looking suit, although for him, it made her all the more feminine. Her complexion was smooth, petal soft, her mouth shaped like a little perfect bow. He loved the way she wore her long hair swept up