Garrett charged through the mess and the rubble, gun raised. He took out a couple more goons, who were flapping around like headless chickens, trying to figure out who’d just tried to blow up the f*****g house. One of them was Doyle — ah, poor Doyle. Garrett hurried on through the house, searching for Powers.
He was almost too startled to react when he rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw Russell limping across the decimated tile. Russell turned and tried to fire at Garrett, but Garrett was faster, firing round after round at Powers. Powers ducked behind the counter, popping up every few seconds like a damn whack-a-mole to take a shot. Garrett charged at the counter, in no mood to play games.
But as he reached Powers’ hiding place, something crashed hard into his shin, nearly brin
