It was already past nine when we left the hotel.
Jade Market was dark. Only streetlights reflected off the wet pavement.
Ethan walked beside me, carrying two boxes of coffee beans his grandfather had practically forced on him. His other hand was holding mine.
His palm was warm and dry. His fingers fit tightly between mine.
I glanced at him. He was looking down at our joined hands, smiling to himself.
"Ethan."
He looked over.
"Your hands smell like fish."
Without missing a beat, Ethan raised my hand to his nose and sniffed. Then shook his head.
"No. That's yours."
I was just about to kick him when I heard an engine roar behind us.
Sharp and harsh. Getting closer and faster.
I turned around. A white sedan was speeding toward us from the far end of the street.
No headlights. Str
