Golden in Death (In Death 50)

“Your form and focus are good, show improvement. There is room for more improvement. You require more time and practice to reach your true potential.”

“You’re not wrong.” Roarke walked over, grabbed a towel to mop his face. “But I’m grateful, Master, for the time I have under your instruction. Program end.”

He started to reach for his water bottle, spotted Eve.

“Not bad,” she said as she moved into the dojo. “How long were you at it?”

“I gave it thirty, as my cop wasn’t yet home.”

“Now she is, and you should be pretty warmed up.” She planted her feet, fisted her hands, saluted.

“Seriously?”

With a smirk, she repeated the salute.

“Bloody hell.” He gulped down some water, set the bottle aside. And, moving back to her, returned the salute.

They both crouched into a fighting stance.

She went straight at him, spinning into a chest-high kick, coupled with a backfist. He blocked, would have swept her legs out from under her if she hadn’t been quick and agile.

Their forearms slammed together on the next block, but she whipped in a fist that stopped a breath from his face.

“My point,” she said as they stepped back.

They circled.

He feinted; she blocked, and barely avoided his follow-up. He went under her fist, pivoted, slapped away the jump kick, shifted his weight. And his foot from a side kick stopped just short of her midsection.

“And that would be my point.”

Circling, striking, she crouched into a snake pose, lured him in. Flipped back, used the pum

p of her arms to shoot her legs up.

“Must you always go for the face?”

She smiled. “It’s so pretty I can’t resist. My point.”

After five sweaty minutes, though she nearly took him down on the move, he scored with a backfist.

She could hear his breath laboring a bit, as hers was, over the soothing tinkle of the waterfall.

When he moved, she saw his guard drop slightly, sprang into a flying kick. Her point.

But he was also agile and quick, reengaged. She blocked, pivoted. And she spun back to find his fist a breath from her face.

“My point.”

Before she could step back, he grabbed her.

“And I’m calling a draw.”

“Maybe I’m not done yet.”

“I didn’t say anything about being done, did I now?”

She knew that look, answered with one of her own. “Seriously?”