"John!" came a gruff voice from the other side of the door. Through the peephole, John saw a big muscular man (probably in his mid-thirties) with a buzzcut hairdo and tattoos on his bulging arms. Man, this guy looked like he could bench press him, then snap him in half without breaking a sweat. "Open the fucking door!"
John cringed, wondering if that kind of language should be heard by the girl, but she didn't seem to be phased by it.
Without any more hesitation, he opened the door and let his "new" friend in.
"Sorry about this, man, but I gotta crash here for a while. The cops ..." he said, breathing heavily. "They spotted me in the Starbucks down the street. I had to get outta there. No way am I going back to prison."
Prison? What the hell has John gotten himself into?
