Damn you, God! Why me? Give me a fucking break!

Scrambling back to his coat, Seth pulled out the handful of extra ammunition he had brought along. A dozen more rounds. Four left in the cylinder. Sixteen rounds total. Against? How many men?

Moments later a withering crossfire tore through the room, ripping at the floor, the ceilings, and the walls. Seth shrank back as the slugs’ deadly invisible fingers clutched at the space around him. He turned his chair on its side and huddled behind it, but it offered scant protection.

The years of training at the police academy and on the streets came back to him. Reflexes, move quickly, survive, survive.

Seth fired twice at the doorway, once toward each side, and then lunged toward the window. He flipped a heavy marble-topped table on its side and scrambled behind it as a train of slugs tracked its way across the room and took chips out of stone.

Frantic shouts came from the hallway and moments later one of the men flashed past the doorway to the other side. Seth shot at him, and then silently cursed at himself. They had suckered him into wasting a bullet. Even if they spoke Russian, they could count rounds too.

A second later, he heard a loud thunk and the sound of an object rolling across the floor. Seth scanned the room and spotted the smooth round metallic luster of a small hand grenade just inches away from the table.

Desperately, Seth dropped the Magnum and sprang for the grenade. He scooped it up in his hand, felt its heavy malevolent power, and like a small animal paralyzed by the sight of a rattler about to strike, hesitated for what seemed like an eternity. A split second later he lobbed the grenade back toward the open doorway and threw himself face first behind the table.

The concussion lifted the table and slammed it against him, pinning him to the wall. For an instant, he heard nothing but the ringing of bells, then the yawning roar he remembered from the first day of explosives training at the academy when he had forgotten to wear the protective earmuffs the department issued.

Beyond the veil of thunder, Seth heard voices. He struggled against the heavy marble table that had saved his life and managed to shove it away just as two men burst through the door, their weapons at the ready. One of them saw him move and fired a short burst at him. Seth ducked behind the table; marble shrapnel showered the room as he scrambled for his gun. Where was it?

Frantically Seth searched the area around him as he heard the footsteps of the men growing closer. Another burst of silenced automatic weapons fire chipped away at the table, sending fragments of marble flying across the room.

There! Next to the wall he spotted the Magnum. Desperately he tumbled for it, then picked it up in his hands. He turned and saw the head of the closest man appear over the top of the pockmarked tabletop. The man raised his gun.