Mark looked apprehensive. “I’m not a particularly good fighter. I swore off violence for life after the incident with Vik. It knocked me sick for weeks afterwards, not to mention finishing my dwindling marriage for good.”
“Do I look like a man who cares?” Logan hissed, the whites of his eyes shining in the gloom. Mark shook his head and saw the latent fury in the Māori’s face.
“Fine,” he conceded. “At least I can offer you my medical services then.” He followed like a faithful puppy as Logan half ran, half slid down the ridge, jumping off into a pile of leaves to cushion his landing. Mark copied, trusting finally that the other man knew what he was doing. The sides of the gully rose above them, higher than anyone passing through the city would guess. In places, the ridges were unassailab
