THE SHOT CAME out of nowhere, shattering the plate-glass window of Ford-Farrell Antiques into thousands of pieces. At first, Olivia Farrell thought one of the display cases had fallen over, or a crystal vase had tipped off a shelf. But then a second shot rang out, the bullet whizzing by her head and embedding itself into the wall with a soft hiss and thud. Frantic, she glanced up to find shards of glass tumbling into the window display around a Federal-era breakfront.

Her first impulse was to throw herself over the breakfront, a rare piece valued at over $60,000. After all, the multipaned doors still contained all original glass! And the piece would be virtually worthless to her discerning clientele if it contained any scratches on the exquisitely preserved marquetry. But then, common sense took over and she dove for cover behind a rather overblown chaise longue in the Victorian style, a piece that might actually benefit from a few bullet holes.

“Oh, damn,” she murmured, not sure what to do next. Should she run? Should she hide? She certainly couldn’t shoot back since she didn’t own a gun. She thought about locking the front door, but then whoever was shooting could just walk through the gaping hole in her plate-glass window. “Why didn’t I listen? Why did I sneak out?”

Pushing up from the floor, she gauged the distance between her location and the back door of the gallery. But what if they were waiting for her in the alley? Since she wasn’t familiar with wiseguy protocol, she had no idea whether her unseen assassins were determined to kill her at all costs or whether they’d regroup and try again later. Then again, they’d missed. Maybe they’d just meant to scare her.