He tried sitting up in his bed, expecting that it would be painful. It wasn't. In fact, he felt physically better than he had in years."How do you fee...?" Valentine asked him, smiling a little.He moved his body back and forth a few more times, searching for twinges of pain, of soreness. There weren't any. He looked under the sheet, noting that he was naked beneath it. Again he marveled over the complete lack of a scar or a mark of any kind where he had been shot. With a start he realized that. In the darkness, after the explosion from Tony's second grenade had killed the emergency lights, he had raced over to his Mercedes. He fumbled for the key, climbed in, and closed the door, only half a second before a slug from the .410 slammed into the driver's side window. But the bulletproof glass valiantly resisted the lead slug that would have otherwise hit him in the head. Mitch flipped on the headlights, then waved at the livid woman who was reloading her shotgun. He laughed as he started. More

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