บท 272: Chapter 272: Logan

All Logan could see of the attacker was a white strip of skin and his eyes. Some sort of hazel or green color. Was that a mole at the corner of his left eye?

"I'm not Dixon," Logan said as calmly as possible. "We don't have to do this."

There was something about the way the guy stood and how he held his hands that tickled a bit of information in the back of Logan's head. Whatever it was, a sense of dread settled over him.

The man darted forward on an angle toward Logan's left.

Shit.

Kali Eskrima.

Logan moved quickly in the direction his attacker had come from. There was a dark bit of shadow between the door and a standing wardrobe where he'd no doubt hidden to take Dixon unaware.

"I don't want to do this," Logan said.

Kali Eskrima was a Filipino martial art that focused on using weapons, even improvised one's like a rolled-up magazine, chair legs, anything. It was brutal and deadly.