"Kick!" The boot hit ribs and a grunt answered the rain. "Never saw a girl throw a better kick," one thug laughed, rain spattering his grin. "Keep laughing," Leticia said, and slapped his face hard. "Now get your hand off me." "She bites," another thug said, stepping closer with a knife that blinked wet in the streetlight. "Knife for a lady," Leticia answered. "How charming. Too bad I'm in a bad mood." "You're in Harbor City," the first thug said. "Bad mood or not, you hand over that satchel and we don't break your pretty bones." Leticia didn't reach for the satchel. She let her shoulder drop like a weight and shoved the nearest thug into the brick so that his head hit with a wet thunk. "Oops," she said. "Sorry. Clumsy." "Grab her!" the leader barked. "Tie her. Bring her to Decker's men. Zimmerman wants—" A fist cut through the leader's sentence. It landed across his jaw and sent him stumbling into the puddles, spitting rain and blood. "Hands of her," Leticia warned, standing over him. "Say one more word and you'll wish you hadn't learned how to talk." "Who the hell—" someone started. "Quiet," a low voice said from the mouth of the alley. Rain fell harder. Men blinked, counting the steps from the street where the voice came. Then a shadow stepped into the light: a man in a dark coat, rain soaked and steady. His presence cleared the