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Big Frank tapped on my driver's side window with the tire iron. It was a gentle tap, but it sounded like thunder. I shook my head. He lifted his hand. Swung the tire iron down. I barely managed to shift out of the way as it crashed through the window. Pieces of glass sprayed my leather hockey coat and my head.
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"Don't move," came a harsh whisper. "Don't try to turn around. I've got a gun."
Someone had come up behind me from the dark hallway that led to the bedrooms.
That same someone snapped off the light at the switch on the wall. That left us alone in the dark, me and someone with a gun and a harsh whisper.
