For good?

      Rain lashed the asphalt, turning the streets into murky mirrors. Mika walked quickly, not looking back, but she knew she was being watched.       The shadows moved too much in sync.       The black SUV pulled up to the curb, and her hand instinctively closed around the canister in her pocket. Gas. For five seconds. If you’re lucky. “Dr. Kline.” A man in a dark coat got out of the car. Not Wexler, but clearly his man. “You forgot to sign something.”       Mica took a step back. “I won’t sign anything.” “You’re wrong. He smiled, and there was nothing human about it.”       The other two came out from behind, cutting off the escape route.       Run away? The alley is too narrow. Shout? It’s a remote area, and no one will show up at night.       She jerked away, but one of them grabbed her arm. “Don’t complicate it.”       At that moment, a third figure emerged from the darkness.       Tall and wearing a battered leather coat, he walked slowly, as if walking in the rain for nothing. “Hey, friends,” he said quietly. “The girl obviously does not want to communicate with you.”       The man in the coat frowned. “None of your business.”       The stranger sighed. “Too bad.”       Then everything happened too fast.       Hit. The click of a broken nose. The second agent collapsed on the asphalt, clutching his knee. The third man pulled out a pistol — but the weapon was already flying into the gutter, and its owner was curled up, moaning in a puddle.       Mica froze.       The stranger wiped his hand on his cloak and turned to her. “Do you need transportation? Or is there a plan?”       She looked closer. Eyes. Cold, steel-gray eyes. There was no fear or anger in them. Calculation only. “Who are you?” “This isn’t the time for questions. He nodded toward the motorcycle at the curb. “Sit down.”       Mica hesitated for a second.       But the black SUV started up again.       She jumped into the backseat.       The engine roared, and the streets drifted past in torrents of rain.       She ran away. But now her life depended on a stranger who was probably even more dangerous than Wexler.