“Sorry, folks,” he sighed, “didn’t mean to interrupt. This is not the safest place for, um, parking. Did you hear anything, see anyone?”
   My guy turned his head slightly, rubbing his nose along my cheek, tenderly kissing my neck.
   “I only have eyes for one thing tonight,” he said softly, still loud enough for the men to hear.
   The second man shouldered around the big guy. “Come on, he had to have taken the long way around. I told you we lost him. Let’s get the car.”
   The bigger man mumbled something I couldn’t hear and backed a few steps before he turned and jogged to catch up with his partner who was already half way across the parking area, heading for the road. I could hear their footsteps fade away.
   Afraid to move I sat there, trying not to breathe too loud, painfully aware of the man beside me, his left arm still curled around my shoulders, his right fist cradling the handle of the knife that lay heavily against my skin. The silence spread around us and the air began to change color as the sun slid towards the darkening sea.
   A minute later he leaned back, shifting into the passenger seat and pulling the knife from under my shirt. I dared to take a deep breath, aware of how tight my throat felt, trying not to cry, willing the muscles in my neck to relax.
   “Sorry,” he said, turning in the seat to look over my shoulder, back towards the road. “I think they’re gone.” He brought his eyes back to meet mine. “I had no choice, I really am sorry,” he sighed. With a guilty look he pulled a metal comb from under my shirt, turning it back and forth before putting it in his back pocket. He looked around the car.