Tonight isn't a good night to go out. I've got an instinct for sensing danger deep in the marrow of my bones, but it's tough shit. The drop off is in ten minutes, and I'm already running late. On the ride over I had to stop and help an elderly dog cross the street. I'm kidding. I'm running late because the laxative took longer than usual to kick in and I didn't want to spend twenty minutes over the border bobbing for a baggy in a gas station toilet bowl.

When I arrive the shore is empty save for a trail of women filtering into an unmarked white van just off the docks. I scrub a hand over my face and take a deep breath. Where the hell is Hige? Through my dirty windshield I can just barely make out a familiar face. Sex-trafficking? This is exactly the kind of bullshit I don't wanna go to prison over.

The door creaks when I swing it open and the old bat in charge freezes when she sees me. I'm not actually packing heat, but the right arm movement is enough to fool the floozy. I bring a finger to my lips and the crowd falls silent. Behind her, an unremarkable boy with brown hair and a silver bracelet peers over her shoulder.

Although she doesn't speak fluent english, she bows her head when I gesture between us and call him "Mine."

He stills when I grab his arm, eyes flickering briefly to mine before he hurries alongside me, unbuttoning his shirt as he skips on his heels. "I can pay you back," he says sweetly.

I slide the offer he's just made off the table where it belongs. "I don't want you to pay me back."

He frowns, jutting out his bottom lip. "But it's the only thing I have to offer."

The saddest part is he probably believes that shit. I hunch my shoulders and hustle him toward my dinky, paint chipped car parked at the end of the street. The doors unlock and he glances to me for permission before sliding into the passenger seat.

"Listen, I don't want to fuck you." It's impossible to hold his gaze while saying something like that. "Nothing personal, but I'm not into kids."

The steering wheel is slick beneath my sweaty palms. He folds his arms when I start the ignition. Across the way, the last of the girls squeeze into the van. Memorizing the license plate is more of a compulsion than it is a good deed.

He leans into my field of vision, bright and distracting. "What makes you think I'm a kid?"

I roll my eyes. "Only a kid would ask that."

"My name is Toboe," he declares, cheeks red. "Not kid."

"Cradle-robber!" A third voice adds itself to the mix and Hige appears in the backseat, boldfaced and smug.

The muscles in my back knot and Toboe shrieks. I turn back to the road and catch Kiba's form in the riverview mirror, leaning on the trunk. His hair is plastered to his face. When did it start pouring?

"C'mon Tsume, where is it?" Hige leans between the front seats and opens the glove compartment while Toboe catches his breath.

Kiba knocks on the driver's window and presses his face to the glass. He points to the lock and I growl. It's always a dramatic entrance with this guy. He slides into the back sopping wet and deadly serious. He stares straight at me until my fists begin to shake.

"It's..." My chest heaves when I release a pent up sigh. "It's in my ass, okay?"

Toboe doesn't bother trying to hide his smile. "So you're a drug mule?"

"Shut up." I scowl, elbowing him hard. "Before I change my mind about helping you."

Hige laughs out loud while Kiba sloughs off his jacket. The engine starts with a shuddering cough, hauling them forward an inch at a time. Toboe buckles his seatbelt before twisting around to introduce himself. I can feel him staring, wide eyed and expectant.

"Can I come?"

"You don't even know where we're going," I snap.

Toboe shrugs, fingers brushing so delicately along my forearm that I can't bring myself to shrug him away. I floor it and shift in my seat, desperate for a bathroom.

I knew it wasn't a good night to go out.