I am on the ground, the breath knocked from my lungs in the space of a breath. Another man has sprung for Vanessa, but she jumps from his reach. I want to move, to help defend her, but a boot lands on my chest and presses down before I can. “I’ll shoot him,” the man above me says, and Vanessa halts. The other man still approaches her. There’s a gun pointed toward my face, and I cough, trying to sputter some sort of surrender. I have two credit cards with decent, but not great, credit limits, but I’ll give them whatever they want.
