Agent Hill: Powerless Read Online Free Page A

keeping his rifle up, peering through the scope. The moment Heath placed his foot on the first step of the stoop, the man wielding the knife took a step back but then stopped in front of the door, blocking the entrance. “Hey, man, you can’t just—”
    The suppressor around Heath’s rifle couldn’t completely mask the sound of the bullet ejected from the muzzle and into the man’s heart, but the sight of blood spraying from his chest was enough to trigger a cascade of screams and slamming doors from the rest of the neighborhood’s onlookers as Heath stepped over the body and into the foyer of the building.
    The inside of the building was hot with the humid stench of filth and human decay. Heath’s face twitched in irritated spasms. Every second he lingered here, his body was poisoned by the unsanitary beasts that inhabited the area. The sooner he killed the bitch, the faster he could get out.
    Heath held up his hand as they approached Sarah’s door. He carefully scanned the frame for any potential explosives or trip wires, and once he determined it was clear, he placed a small bit of explosive on the doorframe, wedged right between the handle and the frame. He and the rest of his men stood back, and the bomb exploded into a mixture of wood and dust, sending the door flying backward into the room.
    Heath led the charge into the room and burst through the smoke. An old, worn couch and a kitchen table filled the living room. He passed a few pictures on the walls and made his way into the kitchen, where the counters were bare of anything but cobwebs. He lowered the rifle once he made it to the utility room, and the shouts from his men echoed through the small apartment, signaling that the place was empty.
    “Bedroom clear.”
    “Living room clear.”
    “Kitchen clear,” Heath said and joined the rest of his men in the settling dust in the living room. He went to the bedroom and pulled out the drawers of the dresser inside. All were empty except for one shirt and a pair of shorts. He checked the closet—nothing. He stomped across the living room and back into the kitchen. Only one plate, a cup, and a few pieces of silverware were in the drawers and cupboards. The fridge was bare and the freezer the same. He slammed the fridge door shut, and it shook the rest of the cabinets. With the condition the place was in, it looked like she hadn’t been here in months.

 
    ***
    The .45 caliber rounds spilled from the box in Sarah’s hand and rolled across the counter. She caught the majority of them in her palm before they hit the floor, but a few clanged against the hard tile. She shook her head, trying to break up the clouds of fog in her mind. Her knees popped slightly as she squatted down to pick up the bullets, and she gave a light grunt when she lifted herself back up.
    “You need to take a break.”
    Sarah turned around, and Bryce had his arms folded across his chest. She returned her focus to loading the empty magazines. “Where are we at with locating Demps?”
    “Sarah, you’re exhausted. The only breaks you’ve given yourself are when you come to reload or grab some water or something to eat, then you’re back out in the streets.”
    “Well, I can’t let my hoes get out of line out there. Just trying to keep my pimp hand strong.”
    “Sarah—”
    “It’s my fault they’re gone, Bryce.” She slammed the loaded magazine into her pistol and turned around. “We don’t even know if they’re alive. What am I supposed to do, huh? Just sit around and wait for something to happen?”
    Bryce took a few steps forward and placed his thin hand on her shoulder, and despite its size, it felt oddly heavy. “I know you want to find them, but you won’t do them any good if you die of exhaustion before you get there.”
    Sarah punched Bryce’s shoulder, and he stumbled a few steps back. “Yeah, well, I can still kick your ass.”
    Before either of them could talk, Johnny came peeling around the corner of the