Breaking Point (The Point Series: Book 2) by Gerard Brennan Page B
Authors: Gerard Brennan
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station."
"Probably just a matter of time. Text me tomorrow and let me know you're all right. Night, Sis."
And he was gone. Such a cheery note to leave it on, too.
Rachel phoned Brian immediately. Of course, he didn't answer.
"What are we going to do, Bump?"
Her instinct was to run away. The more she thought about it, the more attractive it got. She could text Brian with the details as soon as she got to safety. Was that foolproof, though? What if this Donnelly guy had already caught up with him? She'd be blowing her own cover.
Go and say nothing. This prick has nothing on you anyway.
She couldn't do that to Brian, though. Yes, he'd become something different since Paul died. Something... less. But she still loved him. It just took a selfish thought to reinforce her feelings.
Rachel looked at the time on her phone. It wouldn't be long until Brian got home. She'd tell him what she knew then. They'd decide what to do together.
Jacked
––––––––
O wen pulled his hat down to his eyebrows and drew his coat collar up over his chin. If he moved fast, the target wouldn't get a clear picture of him in her head. She was unaware of his approach, distracted by her phone before she even got out of the car. It was a nice big motor, a Toyota Avensis. The girl seemed too young for it, would have been better off in a Clio or something. Maybe she'd borrowed it from her parents. Lucky bitch.
He grabbed her from behind, before she'd closed the door. She tried to scream but he clamped a hand around her lower face. Blocked her mouth and nostrils. Snatched the keys out of her loose grip. She bucked wildly. Tried to hit him with her phone. He swatted it out of her fist and trailed her effortlessly to the back of the car. Flipped open the boot. Dumped her inside. Clocked her jaw. The girl went out like a light and he closed the lid on her.
Owen looked around. He hadn't been spotted. Good. He retrieved the girl's phone and adjusted the driver's seat before planting his ass in it. Mirror, signal, manoeuvre. Owen drove out of the town square and parked in a space in front of the kung fu club. He'd read online that they'd be done by half past eight. Only ten minutes. His skin tingled with anticipation.
Eye for an eye, ear for an ear? Fuck no. The little fucker was going to burn for what he'd done. Burn, burn, burn.
A big engine revved behind Owen. He checked his rear-view mirror. A black and chrome monstrosity had pulled in, bull-bars reflecting the orange of the setting sun. It was a Land Rover, a motor used by cops and gangsters alike. This one didn't look like a peeler model; windows tinted but lacking the sheen of bulletproof glass. A dubstep bass-line throbbed from jacked-up speakers. The modifications were drug money financed, no doubt.
The 'music' died and the driver's door popped open. A man in a sharp suit hopped out. Then a much bigger man in a much duller suit got out of the passenger side. Brains and muscle respectively. Owen figured there was something complicated going on. He didn't like it. Complications could get in his way.
The gangsters moved towards the kung fu club. Owen couldn't let them hurt Brian Morgan. That was to be his pleasure alone. He cursed and got out of the Avensis. Time to turn on the charm.
Performance Enhancing Drugs
––––––––
B rian couldn't believe that Tony managed to pull it off. After a shaky start with the poorly prepared warm-up and some mumbled complaints, the class picked up. Tony demonstrated the self-defence moves he'd rehearsed with Brian earlier that day. Then he let the students have a crack at it, again warning them to take it slow until they got the hang of it. And then they were hooked.
Tony got right into the thick of it, giving advice and correcting technique. Brian hovered around the periphery of the mass of wannabe masters. Sifus, as Tony had taught him. Brian was a Si-Hing , apparently. He didn't really know what it meant, but had a feeling that
"Probably just a matter of time. Text me tomorrow and let me know you're all right. Night, Sis."
And he was gone. Such a cheery note to leave it on, too.
Rachel phoned Brian immediately. Of course, he didn't answer.
"What are we going to do, Bump?"
Her instinct was to run away. The more she thought about it, the more attractive it got. She could text Brian with the details as soon as she got to safety. Was that foolproof, though? What if this Donnelly guy had already caught up with him? She'd be blowing her own cover.
Go and say nothing. This prick has nothing on you anyway.
She couldn't do that to Brian, though. Yes, he'd become something different since Paul died. Something... less. But she still loved him. It just took a selfish thought to reinforce her feelings.
Rachel looked at the time on her phone. It wouldn't be long until Brian got home. She'd tell him what she knew then. They'd decide what to do together.
Jacked
––––––––
O wen pulled his hat down to his eyebrows and drew his coat collar up over his chin. If he moved fast, the target wouldn't get a clear picture of him in her head. She was unaware of his approach, distracted by her phone before she even got out of the car. It was a nice big motor, a Toyota Avensis. The girl seemed too young for it, would have been better off in a Clio or something. Maybe she'd borrowed it from her parents. Lucky bitch.
He grabbed her from behind, before she'd closed the door. She tried to scream but he clamped a hand around her lower face. Blocked her mouth and nostrils. Snatched the keys out of her loose grip. She bucked wildly. Tried to hit him with her phone. He swatted it out of her fist and trailed her effortlessly to the back of the car. Flipped open the boot. Dumped her inside. Clocked her jaw. The girl went out like a light and he closed the lid on her.
Owen looked around. He hadn't been spotted. Good. He retrieved the girl's phone and adjusted the driver's seat before planting his ass in it. Mirror, signal, manoeuvre. Owen drove out of the town square and parked in a space in front of the kung fu club. He'd read online that they'd be done by half past eight. Only ten minutes. His skin tingled with anticipation.
Eye for an eye, ear for an ear? Fuck no. The little fucker was going to burn for what he'd done. Burn, burn, burn.
A big engine revved behind Owen. He checked his rear-view mirror. A black and chrome monstrosity had pulled in, bull-bars reflecting the orange of the setting sun. It was a Land Rover, a motor used by cops and gangsters alike. This one didn't look like a peeler model; windows tinted but lacking the sheen of bulletproof glass. A dubstep bass-line throbbed from jacked-up speakers. The modifications were drug money financed, no doubt.
The 'music' died and the driver's door popped open. A man in a sharp suit hopped out. Then a much bigger man in a much duller suit got out of the passenger side. Brains and muscle respectively. Owen figured there was something complicated going on. He didn't like it. Complications could get in his way.
The gangsters moved towards the kung fu club. Owen couldn't let them hurt Brian Morgan. That was to be his pleasure alone. He cursed and got out of the Avensis. Time to turn on the charm.
Performance Enhancing Drugs
––––––––
B rian couldn't believe that Tony managed to pull it off. After a shaky start with the poorly prepared warm-up and some mumbled complaints, the class picked up. Tony demonstrated the self-defence moves he'd rehearsed with Brian earlier that day. Then he let the students have a crack at it, again warning them to take it slow until they got the hang of it. And then they were hooked.
Tony got right into the thick of it, giving advice and correcting technique. Brian hovered around the periphery of the mass of wannabe masters. Sifus, as Tony had taught him. Brian was a Si-Hing , apparently. He didn't really know what it meant, but had a feeling that
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