“That you did.” Just as quickly, he batted the knife out of her hand. “Now can we talk?”
Zoe didn’t back down, even though she was now weaponless. “No, you can leave.”
“Not happening, kitten.”
“Stop calling me that,” she growled as she flung another knife at him.
Greg’s eyes widened in shock; this woman was throwing knives at him. He ducked and had to move to the side of the island as more projectiles came at him.
“Okay,” he agreed, though he had no intention of stopping. She was a feisty kitten. All claws and teeth, but he was sure with the right gentle hands, he could make her purr.
Greg waited and listened when the knives stopped flying past him. “I don’t want to have to hurt you, Logan.”
“Gee, I couldn’t tell, but that’s good to hear. I don’t want you to hurt me either.” He peeked around the corner of the island to see her just standing there. She appeared to be weaponless, but he was learning quickly not to be deceived by appearances again. He stood up, his body rigid, on high alert now.
“But I will if you don’t turn around and walk away.” She looked at him with steely determination. He had no doubt she would try.
“Sorry, I can’t.”
“Then you leave me no choice.” Zoe came at him with precision.
He waited until the last moment to pivot his body so she missed his chest and kept going. When they were even, he gripped her wrist and twisted, trying to get her to drop the knife. She released the knife only to catch it in her other hand to twirl it around and drive it toward his sternum.
Where the hell did she learn to do that?
He spun behind her, gripping her other wrist so they crisscrossed in front of her. Zoe kicked back with the heel of her foot into his shin. Well, where his shin should be. Now it was plaster and titanium, but it still hurt like hell. Zoe winced in pain but spun out from his arms and turned to face him, kicking into his stomach.
Greg stumbled back into the kitchen counter, taking a second to recover his breath. For such a tiny woman, she packed a hell of a wallop.
Zoe came at him again, her knife held high over her head. Greg gripped her wrist and slammed her into the island. Zoe draped across the counter, her towel starting to come unraveled. Greg didn’t let it distract him though.
“That’s enough, Zoe.”
“Never,” she spat, thrusting her weight against him and forcing him to stumble back and lose his grip on her.
Zoe was ready for him again, her knife aimed. She was professionally trained. He’d give her credit. She’d had him fooled up until now that she was just a typical business-type woman. She was anything but. Underneath her cool exterior was a trained killer.
Zoe came at him again. It was difficult maneuvering around the confining kitchen, but it impeded her as well because his larger frame made it difficult for her to slide around and get the drop on him.
“Zoe, we don’t have to do this,” he tried reasoning with her as he deflected her slice toward his chest. He didn’t want to hurt her, but if she kept coming at him like this, he might have to be more forceful to get the knife away from her. A task that sounded easier said than done.
“Yes, we do,” she said calmly, as if killing him was no big deal.
It was a major fucking deal to him. He had survived fire fights, explosions, and torture. He’d pulled himself from depression when he’d lost his leg and the military had discharged him as if he was nothing more than a broken toy thrown in the trash. Others had come before her that had tried to kill him and break him down, and it wasn’t going to happen now. Not without a hell of a fight anyway.
When Zoe came at him again, he dropped low and swept her legs out from under her. He moved to pin her when Zoe swept her knife at him again. He was really starting to hate those. He batted it away, and Zoe crossed her legs and squeezed his neck.
It was a firm grip. Not enough to choke him out, but he was going to have to use force to pry her legs open. Zoe pulled him closer and drove her fist into his nose before releasing him.
Damn, he thought he saw stars on that one.
He shook his head to clear it when Zoe straddled his waist, her knife gripped in her right hand, hovering over his chest. Her left hand was braced on his right pectoral. His breath caught when he realized she was straddling him naked. Her towel had become completely unraveled at some point in their fight.
Zoe either didn’t notice or care. She brought the knife down, aiming right for his heart. He caught her wrist, pushed it to the side, and squeezed her pressure point to cause her to drop the knife. Zoe gritted her teeth, refusing to yield. He applied more pressure and twisted her wrist to the outside. The knife clattered on the floor, but Greg knew the fight was far from over.
He could see the fire in her eyes. She wasn’t willing to go down until one of them was defeated. It wasn’t going to be him.
He threw her off of him and scrambled to his feet. Zoe kicked out at him. He caught her ankle and squeezed her neck then swung her around, pinning her to the refrigerator. Zoe was panting. He could see the heavy rise and fall of her chest. He could feel the fluttering of her heartrate under his fingers against her neck.
