Samurai Game Quotes

“He knew he needed to release her, but once he allowed his physical connection to drop away, he was uncertain if he’d ever have a chance to reconnect. Instinctively, he knew Azami was elusive, like water flowing through fingers, or the wind shifting in the trees. He needed a way to seal her to him.
“How does one court a woman in Japan? Do I need your brothers’ permission?”
She blinked again. Shocked. A hint of uncertainty crept into her eyes. She frowned, and he bent his head to swallow her protest before she could utter it. Her mouth trembled beneath his, and then she opened to him, like a flower, luring him deeper. Her arms slid around his neck, her body pressing tightly against his. He tightened his fingers in her hair.
He was burning, through and through, from the inside out, a hot melting of bone and tissue. He hadn’t known he was lonely or even looking for something. He’d been complete. He loved his wife. He was a man with teammates he trusted implicitly. He lived in wild places of beauty he enjoyed. He hadn’t considered there would be a woman who could ever fit with him, who would ever turn his insides soft and his body hard.
Feel the same way, Azami. He didn’t lift his mouth, kissing her again and again because one he’d made the mistake, he was addicted and what was the use fighting it? Not when it felt so damn right.
Somewhere along the line, his kiss went from sheer aggression and command, to absolute tenderness. The emotion for her rose like a volcano, encompassing him entirely, drawn from some part of him he’d never known even existed. His mouth was gentle, his hands on her, possessive, yet just as gentle. Another claiming, this coming from that deep unknown well.
Feel the same way, Azami, he whispered into her mind. An enticement. A need. He waited, something in him going still, waiting for her answer.
Tell me how you’re feeling?
She hadn’t pulled away. If anything, her arms had tightened around his neck. He shared every single breath she took, feeling the slight movement of her rib cage and breasts against him, the warm air they exchanged.
Like I’m burning alive. Drowning. Like I never want this moment to end. He wasn’t a man to say flowery things to a woman, nor did he even think them, but he shared the honest truth with her. Like we belong.
Once he let her go, the world would slip back into kilter. He wanted her to stay with him, to give him a chance with her.
She didn’t hesitate, and he loved that about her as well. She gave herself in truth in the same way he did. I feel the same, but one of us has to be sane.
She initiated the kiss when he pulled back slightly, chasing after him with her soft mouth, fingers digging tightly into the heavy muscle at his neck, sighing when his lips settled once more over hers. He took his time, kissing her thoroughly, again and again, all the while slipping deeper into her spell and hoping she was falling under his.
Is this your idea of sanity? He’d make it his reality. He was falling further down the rabbit hole and he’d make her his sanity if she’d fall with him.
Her soft laughter slipped inside his heart, winding there until there was no shaking her loose. Not really, but you have to be the strong one.
He kissed her again. And again. Why is that?
You started this.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“I am not a woman who would be practical in your life, Sam. You need a home and family..."
"I'm a soldier, Azami. That's who I am. What I am. My woman will be my home----my family...”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Gator, go wake that woman of yours. I need some answers. We need her to run the computers for us.”
“Tonight, Boss?” Gator complained. “I had other ideas.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“We all did. Hop to it.”
“What about Sam?” Tucker asked. “His woman is the one who got us into this.”
“I’m wounded.” Sam clutched his abdomen dramatically and staggered with quick, long strides so that he made it to the doorway in three quick steps.
Jonas coughed, sounding suspiciously like he’d muttered “bullshit” under his breath. Kyle threw a peanut at him and Jeff surfed across the table in his bare socks to try to catch him before he bolted.
“He’s in love, boys, let him go. He’ll probably just get laughed at,” Tucker said. “Do you really think Azami’s brothers are going to allow her to hook up with Sam? She’s fine and he’s . . . well . . . klutzy.”
“That hurt,” Sam said, turning back.
“Did you get a good look at those boys? I thought Japanese men were supposed to be on the short side, but Daiki was tall and all muscle. His brother moves like a fucking fighter,” Tucker added. “They might just decide to give you a good beating for having the audacity to even think you could date their sister, let alone marry her.”
“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.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“You belong with me, Azami. Your family will be my family. My family—the GhostWalkers—will be yours.”
“You’re a very dangerous man, Sam Johnson,” she whispered. “You stand there, tempting me with your pretty words of a future together, the devil in his blue jeans, so good-looking you’re impossible to resist. I don’t know why I can’t say no to you.”
His grin widened. His arms slid around her, pulling her tight against him. He didn’t want so much as a breath between them. “That will stand me in good stead in the future.” He bent his head once more to the temptation of her angelic mouth.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“I see you have no need of a sword.”
“Very difficult, these days, to get them through security,” she pointed out without changing expression.
“You’re extremely accurate with that weapon.”
“With all weapons. My father was an exacting man.”
“You’re a very dangerous woman, Azami Yoshiie.” Sam meant it as an admiring compliment.
One eyebrow raised. Her mouth curved and she flashed a heart-stopping smile. “You have no idea how dangerous.” She said his own words right back to him and he believed her.
“And you’re as adept with a sword as you are with your other weapons?” he asked curiously.
“More so,” she admitted with no trace of bragging—simply stating a fact. “I said so, didn’t I?”
Sam turned on his heel and strode toward her purposefully. “I’m about to kiss you, Ms. Yoshiie. I’m fully aware I’m breaching every single international law of etiquette there is, and you might, rightfully, stick that knife of yours in my gut, but right at this moment I don’t particularly give a damn.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move. He’d known she wouldn’t. She was every bit as courageous as any member of his team. She would stand her ground.
Thorn moistened her lips. “It might be your heart,” she warned truthfully.
“Still, I have no choice here. I really don’t. So pull the damn thing out and be ready.”
She felt her body go liquid with heat, a frightening reaction to a woman of absolute control. “If you’re going to do it, you’d best make it really good, because it very well might be the last thing you ever do. I have no idea how I’ll react. I’ve never actually kissed anyone before.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Tell me how you’re feeling?
She hadn’t pulled away. If anything, her arms had tightened around his neck. He shared every single breath she took, feeling the slight movement of her rib cage and breasts against him, the warm air they exchanged.
Like I’m burning alive. Drowning. Like I never want this moment to end. He wasn’t a man to say flowery things to a woman, nor did he even think them, but he shared the honest truth with her. Like we belong.
Once he let her go, the world would slip back into kilter. He wanted her to stay with him, to give him a chance with her.
She didn’t hesitate, and he loved that about her as well. She gave herself in truth in the same way he did. I feel the same, but one of us has to be sane.
She initiated the kiss when he pulled back slightly, chasing after him with her soft mouth, fingers digging tightly into the heavy muscle at his neck, sighing when his lips settled once more over hers. He took his time, kissing her thoroughly, again and again, all the while slipping deeper into her spell and hoping she was falling under his.
Is this your idea of sanity? He’d make it his reality. He was falling further down the rabbit hole and he’d make her his sanity if she’d fall with him.
Her soft laughter slipped inside his heart, winding there until there was no shaking her loose. Not really, but you have to be the strong one.
He kissed her again. And again. Why is that?
You started this.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“It is true. I did fall asleep at the wheel. We nearly went right off a cliff down into a gorge. But there were extenuating circumstances.”
Ian snickered. “Are you going to pull out the cry-baby card? He had a little bitty wound he forgot to tell us about, that’s how small it was. Ever since he fell asleep he’s been trying to make us believe that contributed.”
“It wasn’t little. I have a scar. A knife fight.” Sam was righteous about it.
“He barely nicked you,” Ian sneered. “A tiny little slice that looked like a paper cut.”
Sam extended his arm to Azami so she could see the evidence of the two-inch line of white marring his darker skin. “I bled profusely. I was weak and we hadn’t slept in days.”
“Profusely?” Ian echoed. “Ha! Two drops of blood is not profuse bleeding, Knight. We hadn’t slept in days, that much is true, but the rest . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at Azami.
Azami examined the barely there scar. The knife hadn’t inflicted much damage, and Sam knew she’d seen evidence of much worse wounds. “Had you been drinking?” she asked, her eyes wide with innocence. Those long lashes fanned her cheeks as she gaze at him until his heart tripped all over itself.
Sam groaned. “Don’t listen to him. I wasn’t drinking, but once we were pretty much in the middle of a hurricane in the South Pacific on a rescue mission and Ian here decides he has to go into this bar . . .”
“Oh, no.” Ian burst out laughing. “You’re not telling her that story.”
“You did, man. He made us all go in there, with the dirtbag we’d rescued, by the way,” Sam told Azami. “We had to climb out the windows and get on the roof at one point when the place flooded. I swear ther was a crocodile as big as a house coming right at us. We were running for our lives, laughing and trying to keep that idiot Frenchman alive.”
“You said to throw him to the crocs,” Ian reminded.
“What was in the bar that you had to go in?” Azami asked, clearly puzzled.
“Crocodiles,” Sam and Ian said simultaneously. They both burst out laughing.
Azami shook her head. “You two could be crazy. Are you making these stories up?”
“Ryland wishes we made them up,” Sam said. “Seriously, we’re sneaking past this bar right in the middle of an enemy-occupied village and there’s this sign on the bar that says swim with the crocs and if you survive, free drinks forever. The wind is howling and trees are bent almost double and we’re carrying the sack of shit . . . er . . . our prize because the dirtbag refuses to run even to save his own life—”
“The man is seriously heavy,” Ian interrupted. “He was kidnapped and held for ransom for two years. I guess he decided to cook for his captors so they wouldn’t treat him bad. He tried to hide in the closet when we came for him. He didn’t want to go out in the rain.”
“He was the biggest pain in the ass you could imagine,” Sam continued, laughing at the memory. “He squealed every time we slipped in the mud and went down.”
“The river had flooded the village,” Sam added. “We were walking through a couple of feet of water. We’re all muddy and he’s wiggling and squeaking in a high-pitched voice and Ian spots this sign hanging on the bar.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“He knew he needed to release her, but once he allowed his physical connection to drop away, he was uncertain if he’d ever have a chance to reconnect. Instinctively, he knew Azami was elusive, like water flowing through fingers, or the wind shifting in the trees. He needed a way to seal her to him.
“How does one court a woman in Japan? Do I need your brothers’ permission?”
She blinked again. Shocked. A hint of uncertainty crept into her eyes. She frowned, and he bent his head to swallow her protest before she could utter it. Her mouth trembled beneath his, and then she opened to him, like a flower, luring him deeper. Her arms slid around his neck, her body pressing tightly against his. He tightened his fingers in her hair.
He was burning, through and through, from the inside out, a hot melting of bone and tissue. He hadn’t known he was lonely or even looking for something. He’d been complete. He loved his life. He was a man with teammates he trusted implicitly. He lived in wild places of beauty he enjoyed. He hadn’t considered there would be a woman who could ever fit with him, who would ever turn his insides soft and his body hard.
Feel the same way, Azami. He didn’t lift his mouth, kissing her again and again because one he’d made the mistake, he was addicted and what was the use fighting it? Not when it felt so damn right.
Somewhere along the line, his kiss went from sheer aggression and command, to absolute tenderness. The emotion for her rose like a volcano, encompassing him entirely, drawn from some part of him he’d never known even existed. His mouth was gentle, his hands on her, possessive, yet just as gentle. Another claiming, this coming from that deep unknown well.
Feel the same way, Azami, he whispered into her mind. An enticement. A need. He waited, something in him going still, waiting for her answer.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“You can’t be in here.” Ian stated it as a fact.
Sam sank back onto the bed. He was definitely growing stronger, but standing could be troublesome on shaky legs. The pain of his wound had definitely receded. “Why not?” he asked a little belligerently.
“She can’t; it’s impossible. I was standing guard at her door.” Ian’s gaze met Azami’s. “To protect you of course.”
“Of course, because there are so many enemies creeping around your halls,” Azami said, her voice soft and pleasant, a musical quality lending innocence and sweetness.
Ian’s frown deepened as if he was puzzled. She certainly couldn’t have meant that the way it came out, anyone listening would be certain of it. “Just what are you two doing in here anyway?” he asked, suspicion lending his tone a dark melodrama. He even wiggled his eyebrows like a villain.
Sam kept a straight face with difficulty. Ian was a large man with red hair and freckles. He didn’t look in the least bit mean or threatening, even when he tried.
“Azami was just telling me how when she left her room to inquire after my health, there was a giant man with carroty hair snoring in the hallway beside her door.”
“There was no way to get past me,” Ian insisted.
Sam grinned at him. “Are you saying you did fall asleep on the job, then?”
“Hell no.” Ian scowled at him. “I was wide awake and she didn’t slap past me.”
“You say,” Sam pointed out, his tone mocking as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back casually, pleased he could tease his friend. “Still, she’s here and that proves you were looking the other way or sleeping, just like that time in Indonesia when we parachuted in and you fell asleep on the way down. I believe that time you got tangled in a very large tree right in the center of the enemies’ camp.”
Azami’s lashes fluttered, drawing Sam’s attention. He almost reached out to her, wanting to hold her hand, but she’d mentioned a couple of times she didn’t show affection in public.
“You fell asleep while parachuting?” she asked, clearly uncertain whether or not they were joking.
Ian shook his head. “I did not. A gust of heavy wind came along and pushed me right into that tree. Gator told everyone I was snoring when he shoved me out of the plane. The entire episode is all vicious fabrication. On the other hand, Sam here, actually did fall asleep while he was driving as we were escaping a very angry drug lord in Brazil.”
Azami raised her eyebrow as she turned to Sam for an explanation. Her eyes laughed at him and again he had a wild urge to pull her to him and hold her tight. Primitive urges had never been a part of his makeup until she’d come along; now he figured he was becoming a caveman. Her gaze slid to his face as if she knew what he was thinking—which was probably the case. He flashed a grin at her.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“We are a traditional family in many ways,” she replied enigmatically, avoiding a lie. She wasn’t above lying to serve her mission, but not to Sam, not if she could help it.
His eyes warmed. “So we’re back to you giving me instructions on how to properly court you. Do I ask your brother’s permission?”
He was stealing her heart with his sincerity. She shook her head. “I am not a woman who would be practical in your life, Sam. You need a home and family . . .”
He laughed, interrupting her carefully chosen words. The sound was pure masculine amusement, sending a curling heat through her and making her forget everything she was going to say.
“I’m a soldier, Azami. That’s who I am. What I am. My woman will be my home—my family. Beyond that, who knows? I believe you’re that woman.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Azami shuddered, her lips trembling, and then she consumed him as aggressively and as honestly as he did her. He felt her inside of his mind, running like lava through his veins, wrapping around his heart and filling his very bones with her.
“This is madness,” she whispered against his mouth when they both came up for air. Her dark eyes searched his face.
Sam didn’t have any answers. He knew she was right. They might be on opposite sides in a deadly war, yet he couldn’t let her go. She fit with him. The world around them was out of sync, not the two of them.
“I know,” he admitted as he rested his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes.
“What are we going to do now?”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “I really expected you to kill me so I wouldn’t have to figure that part out.”
She blinked, her black fan of thick silky lashes fluttering as wildly as her heart. She moistened her lips. “You’re not getting off that easily.”
Sam watched the dawning smile, the way her soft mouth curved and the warmth spread to her dark eyes with absolute fascination. “Well. Damn.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“The GhostWalker Creed
We are the GhostWalkers, we live in the shadows
The sea, the earth, and the air are our domain
No fallen comrade will be left behind
We are loyalty and honor bound
We are invisible to our enemies
and we destroy them where we find them
We believe in justice and we protect our country
and those unable to protect themselves
What goes unseen, unheard, and unknown
are Ghostwalkers
There is honor in the shadows and it is us
We move in complete silence whether in jungle or desert
We walk among our enemy unseen and unheard
Striking without sound and scatter to the winds
before they have knowledge of our existence
We gather information and wait with endless patience
for that perfect moment to deliver swift justice
We are both merciful and merciless
We are relentless and implacable in our resolve
We are the GhostWalkers and the night is ours”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“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 took long, she’d change her mind. What sane woman wouldn’t?”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“You snuck past me, didn’t you?” Ian accused. “I knew I hadn’t gone to sleep.”
Sam understood what Ian was doing: giving Ryland time to assimilate the danger to his son and come to terms with it. He deliberately drew attention away from their leader.
“Many times, as a matter of fact,” Azami said, willing to sacrifice herself so that Ryland could take a moment to recover and hold his child close. “I tweaked your chin once.”
Ian rubbed his chin, glaring at her. “You did. I felt it. A draft hit me and it felt like someone pulled a hair from my chin.”
“I was red and I couldn’t resist. You really need to shave,” Azami pointed out. “What’s with that little red fuzz on your chin anyway? Is it some sort of statement I don’t understand?”
“Statement?” Ian flared, stroking the tiny little red vee on his chin. “This is manly, woman. Don’t you know that?”
Azami gave a slight bow, lowering her lashes and chin demurely, but not before Sam caught the sparkle in her eyes. “Forgive me, Ian, I did not know a man of your stature needed fuzz to be manly. I can only plead ignorance of this custom.”
The men snickered and nudged Ian, Tucker reaching out to touch the red fuzz. Ian punched his arm away.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Still, he knew this ritual, for Azami, was much more. She was giving herself to him, declaring herself, in her own way, to be his. That he was her choice. However she treated him in public, without expression, no hand holding, no kissing, there would be this behind closed doors. To the rest of the world, she was samurai, to Sam, she was love.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“To the rest of the world, she was samurai, to Sam, she was love.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“I know,” he admitted as he rested his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. “What are we going to do now?” A slow smile curved his mouth. “I really expected you to kill me so I wouldn’t have to figure that part out.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Debriefing was a lot of bullshit. Sam wanted to leap out of his seat and go find his woman. He’d never actually had a woman to come home to, and now that he did, he had to sit like a kindergartener, wiggling around his chair, anxious to see her—inspect her—and make certain she didn’t have so much as a scratch on her. Fucking Whitney, attacking the compound when there were just a few men and women to defend it. She wasn’t hurt . . .
“Sam, you with us?” Ryland asked.
He wasn’t the only one with a wife. Ryland had to be just as anxious. His son had been a target. He scowled at Ryland.
“He’s got ants in his pants.” Tucker snickered.
He’s got somethin’ in his pants,” Gator mocked, shoving at Sam’s boot with his foot. “And I don’ think it’s ants.”
“Go to hell,” Sam said good-naturedly. “Like all of you aren’t just as antsy.”
Ryland sighed. “Our women fought off Whitney’s men while we were in the field. It’s getting a little old.” He looked at Sam. “Get out of here.” And I want a full briefing from her later.
Sam’s nod was barely perceptible. He leapt out of the chair and rushed from the room, an arrow shot out of a bow. Laughter followed him, but he didn’t give a damn. Nothing mattered but to get to her. Azami. His.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Stop strokin’ that gun, Kyle,” Gator said. “You’re makin’ me nervous. I’m thinkin’ you’re about to make love to the damn thing.”
“She is purty,” Kyle said, giving the gun one last caress, his eye watching the truck ahead. “Slow down a little, and let them get ahead of us, Gator.”
“What if they put up a roadblock?” Jonas asked.
Ryland opened one eye. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Can the chatter and let me sleep. We’ve got swimming to do and I’m getting too old for this shit.”
“Do they have sharks off this coast?” Jonas asked.
Sam snickered. “You and those sharks, Jonas.”
“I have nightmares, man,” Jonas protested.
“I’ll feed you to a damn shark if you don’t let me sleep,” Ryland drawled.
Kadan and Nico exchanged amused glances.
Ryland opened both eyes. “I heard that. I’m not that old.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Are you okay, baby?
I don’t know. She sounded dazed. Am I alive?
I’m not certain either of us are. Give me a minute and we’ll go for round two.
He felt movement and managed to turn his head toward her and pry open one eye. She lifted her head and looked pointedly at his soft cock with a small smile.
“You’re feeling optimistic, aren’t you?” she said aloud, laughter in her voice.
His fingers found her hair, wrapping a length around his fist. He gave a gentle tug and made an effort to find his voice. “That’s a challenge, woman, and all good soldiers find a way to meet a challenge.”
He felt her laughter in his mind, that soft, melting molasses that just poured in and filled him with happiness. How had he ever managed without her?
“I wasn’t challenging you, Sammy. I’m not certain I’ll ever be able to walk again,” she pointed out. “I think I have skid marks inside.”
Alarm spread instantly. “Did I hurt you?”
“You know you didn’t, but we were a little on the wild side. I’m definitely going to be a little sore, but I’m perfectly willing to give up walking.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Gator flashed a cocky grin. “Sam really did nearly shoot our runaway, but Ian jumped through that window after him and then it was on.” “And you all followed him, of course,” Azami said. “Well, ma’am,” Jonas said. “There was liquor in there and no one was minding the bar. Ian is Irish. We had to make certain there was something left.” “We all had a mighty thirst after all that runnin’ from those bullets, ma’am,” Gator added.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Then Gator lets loose and starts yelling like a banshee. He was doing some kind of Cajun ceremonial rain dance or something . . .” “I knew you were in here swappin’ lies about me,” Gator said. “I could hear you laughin’ two houses over. You’re gonna wake the dead. And, ma’am, don’ believe a single lie these jokers tell you. I saved ’em all that day. It was our darkest hour, with giant crocodiles swimmin’ around the room, water pourin’ in from every direction, trees fallin’ on us, and the bunch of them grabbin’ at the liquor bottles and splashin’ around, bait for the crocs.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Azami started laughing. “I can’t imagine what Mr. Miller had to say to you when he found out.” The three men exchanged looks and began laughing uproariously. “He said, ‘Pass me a bottle of scotch,’ when he came back and stuck his head through the window.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Actually, the story is very true. Sam and Ian really are that crazy. Well, they weren’t the only ones. Gator wanted to go in as well, but everyone knows he’s completely insane. He spent too much time in the swamp where he grew up.” “You went in too,” Sam pointed out. “And I didn’t want to go; I had no choice. I couldn’t let Ian go alone.” Tucker shook his head. “You were damned sick of the Frenchman and you wanted to throw his ass in the croc pit. He was really fighting going out in that storm. We thought he was just chickenshit.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“If you were having such a difficult time with him, why would you stop to go into a bar?” Azami asked, clearly puzzled. Tucker snorted. “Ian said to see the crocs, and Gator said it was to get free drinks. Sam wanted to feed the crocs the Frenchman. In any case, I look back and they’re climbing in through the window. It was broken out and water covered a good two feet of the floor. I couldn’t just let them go in there without having their backs. And I sure didn’t want to face Ryland and tell him the ‘prisoner’ we rescued got fed to the crocodiles.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Sam turned on his heel and strode toward her purposefully. “I’m about to kiss you, Ms. Yoshiie. I’m fully aware I’m breaching every single international law of etiquette there is, and you might, rightfully, stick that knife of yours in my gut, but right at this moment I don’t particularly give a damn.” Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move. He’d known she wouldn’t. She was every bit as courageous as any member of his team. She would stand her ground. Thorn moistened her lips. “It might be your heart,” she warned truthfully. “Still, I have no choice here. I really don’t. So pull the damn thing out and be ready.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game

“Azami thought it was a miracle she managed not to roll her eyes. She was Japanese, not Chinese.”
― Christine Feehan, Samurai Game