Breaking Point

by Allison Brennan

  “What the hell for?”

  “He still doesn’t like you, but you’re smart. He wants El Paso locked down tonight, and if it doesn’t happen, there will be blood.”

  “I can’t be party to that, D.”

  “You don’t have a choice, Doc.”

  It didn’t make sense. She understood that Hirsch wanted her here because he was suspicious—but then why the hell would Damien give her a gun?

  The door opened and a man walked in. Dirty, faded jeans. Worn cowboy boots of the type that held the feet of nine out of ten men in west Texas. Jean jacket, white T-shirt. A little James Dean swagger. Thirties, dark hair that curled at the ends, Texas Rangers ball cap. He looked familiar, but his face was partly shielded.

  It was when he crossed the room and sat down at the end of the bar and she caught a good look at his profile that Bella knew exactly who he was.

  Kane Rogan’s little brother.

  She hadn’t seen Sean in years. She’d kept up with her brother’s business, and heard that Sean had joined RCK, but she’d always thought of him as the computer nerd. He’d never been in the military, he’d never been a cop, he’d graduated from MIT. He was the brains behind the operation. What was he doing in the field? Damn, how things had changed.

  If Sean was here, that meant RCK wasn’t far behind. Her brother was going to blow everything.

  She didn’t let on to Damien that she recognized the guy. Damien gave him a cursory, dismissive glance, then refocused on the door.

  Maybe Declan had called them in because he knew something that she didn’t.

  The first book of Samuel. Declan had called JT.

  It was as clear as day now, she didn’t know why she hadn’t seen it before. Declan may have cut ties with Genesis and the Dixons but he and JT were bonded. Declan must have kept in touch with her brother if JT could pull together an operation this fast.

  Declan knows Roger is dead. He’s worried. And if he called JT, JT would never back down, no matter that she had called off the extraction.

  How did he track her down here? To this bar?

  “Where’s Hirsch?” she asked. The bartender put a bottle of beer in front of Sean. He drank. Who did he come with? Was JT really here?

  “Look, Doc, follow my lead. But I can’t babysit you. You’ve shot a gun before, haven’t you?”

  “It’s been awhile.”

  She was a great shot, but she didn’t want Damien to know. It wouldn’t fit her cover.

  “You have a .45 there. It’s clean, but try not to leave it behind. It has a kick. Fourteen round magazine, one bullet in the chamber.”

  “I’m not going to shoot anyone!”

  “Shut. Up. You might not have a choice. We need you, Doc—I don’t have to tell you medics are hard to find in our business.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have brought me here.”

  “Just—”

  He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he picked up his phone and listened. “Okay.” He snapped the flip phone shut. He’d looked worried before, now he was both worried and angry.

  “Stay,” he ordered and walked down the back hall that led to the restrooms and rear exit.

  Bella put the gun in her waistband, in the small of her back, then pulled her T-shirt over it. That did little to conceal it.

  Hirsch walked in with six men. One stayed with him and the others dispersed around the room. The bartender eyed the men with casual suspicion. So did Sean Rogan.

  Bella didn’t recognize any of them, but they were clearly taking orders from Hirsch. Where had Damien gone? She knew she was in hot water when she actually wanted the enforcer at her side. At least he was predictable.

  Hirsch approached her table and sat down in the seat Damien had vacated.

  “What’s going on?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “Shut up.”

  Hirsch called to the bartender. “Double shot of Scotch. Good stuff, not piss water.”

  Bella would love to shoot Hirsch, right now. Did he know Damien had given her a gun? She couldn’t be certain. But if she shot him, six other men would take her out—and even if Sean Rogan had the street smarts to react quickly, it was still two against seven.

  JT had to be close behind. If Sean knew where she was, that meant JT did, too.

  But if she killed Hirsch, she would never find Hope. Even though it pained her that she couldn’t kill him, he was her only connection to the girl.

  You’re not an assassin. Why are you itching to kill a man?

  She’d faced evil many times in her life, including people even more violent and depraved than Hirsch. But he had gotten to her. It wasn’t just that he treated women and girls like property, it was the complete and utter disdain he had for anyone he thought was inferior—and that included all women and most men. This was his business, and he would never lose sleep over one dead girl or one lost contract. He would kill whoever was responsible—if it benefitted Hirsch. And usually, showing force—proving he was not to be screwed with—benefitted him.

  The bartender brought over the double shot and left. Hirsch drank half, grimaced.

  “Fucking cheap swill,” he muttered.

  Bella had a hundred questions but kept her mouth shut. The one concern was why Damien had left. He’d gotten a call—from who? Hirsch? Likely. Hirsch had entered not five minutes later. Why had Damien left after the call? Why were there so many men? Half of them Bella didn’t even recognize. Hirsch didn’t usually travel with so many. How trustworthy? Who were they? Locals?

  Three men entered through the main door. One tipped his hat to Hirsch, but he sat at a table near the door with Hirsch’s men. Damn, Hirsch had at least nine people in here, all watching his back.

  Her eyelid twitched.

  Now the bartender was looking nervous. The old, half-asleep couple shuffled out. No one else moved. The drunk working guys kept up the mindless chatter, an occasional barking laugh telling everyone they were completely clueless to the tension in the dive.

  Hirsch smiled. If his slimy, half-upturned lips could be called a smile. He had a plan and he hadn’t told anyone, except Damien. Of that Bella was damn certain.

  They waited. Country music chattered through bass-heavy speakers. Not the popular stuff that everyone and his brother listened to, but tunes with a country twang that Bella had never heard before. Kane’s little brother ordered another beer. Bella caught him glancing over at the Mexican in the corner more than once. Subtle, but she was trained to watch for subtle.

  Was that guy with RCK? At third glance he didn’t look exactly Mexican, but he had a darker-hued skin than a Caucasian, black hair and dark eyes. The beard was short but thick, which gave him a darker look.

  Jack Kincaid.

  She’d only met him a couple times. He’d put the “K” in Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid. Cuban, she thought. Former Army, mercenary, joined RCK when he married … snap! Megan Elliott, the fed who was one of JT’s friends, whose brother Matt had also been a Navy SEAL.

  Small fucking world.

  “Calm down, Dr. Carter,” Hirsch said. “You’re jumpy and nervous and that’s not going to serve us well.”

  “I would be calmer if I knew what the fuck was going on. I’m getting a bad vibe, and I have learned over the years to trust my instincts. Where’s Damien? He should be here to watch your ass. I’m not trained for this, I didn’t sign on—”

  “Shut. Up. Shit, woman. Damien knows what he needs to do. You need to keep your mouth shut until I tell you to open it.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your whores.”

  He leaned over. The expression on his face was pure hatred. “Don’t think for a minute that you’re not expendable. I survived without a doctor on staff before, I will survive again. Do you understand?”

  She made sure he saw the disgust on her face. Through clenched teeth she said, “Yes, sir.”

  He narrowed his eyes and she feared she went too far. Then the door opened and he diverted his attention to t
he new customers.

  A short Hispanic male entered. He was surrounded by four burly goons who all carried weapons. This had to be Raul Diaz.

  The bartender didn’t comment about the obvious show of guns, just continued wiping down the bar. But he’d been wiping the same section for the last five minutes. Whose side was he on? Hirsch or Diaz? Who had picked this venue in the first place? Had he called the cops? Would he?

  Hirsch was too calm. Bella couldn’t imagine a scenario where they would all get out of this bar alive.

  Hirsch waited until Diaz had started toward him before standing up to greet the man.

  “Raul,” Hirsch said. “Please sit.”

  Raul Diaz was a hard man and his voice a low rasp. “I told you last night that I wasn’t joining your operation, and nothing has changed.”

  “I was hoping after you received my gift last night you would have a change of heart.”

  “Sending me two cheap whores to suck my dick means shit. I have plenty of my own. Mine. This town is mine, gringo, and you’re not wanted here. It’s after sunset. You were supposed to be gone. Color me surprised when I got the call that you were here.”

  Nothing about this exchange was planned—at least on Diaz’s part.

  Now Bella knew why Damien gave her the gun. He knew that this was going to end in bloodshed. That he was giving her a fighting chance was almost endearing if she wasn’t so damn terrified she’d end up dead.

  “Sit, Raul,” Hirsch said, all humor gone from his voice.

  “No.”

  “We have a lot to discuss. It wasn’t the girls—I have plenty of them, and they’re all expendable. I could care less what you do with them. But my plan, my vision, I’d hoped that after a good night’s sleep you would see and understand how the future could play out.”

  Raul put both hands on the table and said, “I see you get the bulk of the profit and I take the bulk of the risk, and that’s fucking bullshit. I’m not paying you no protection money to keep what’s mine, it’s mine. My network is solid. I don’t need what you’re selling, and definitely not at the price you’re asking. So get the fuck out of my town now or you’re a dead man.”

  Hirsch sighed. “You’re not the only organization in El Paso. And in your arrogance you forgot to keep your enemies closer than your friends.”

  Noise in the back of the bar had all heads turning. In swaggered three men. They looked so much alike they had to be brothers. They were young—dear Lord, Bella thought, they were in their twenties, if that. One of them didn’t even look old enough to shave.

  Raul started to laugh. “Oh, you have got to be fucking joking. The Moores are idiots.”

  “Are they?” Hirsch said, his voice low.

  “You’ve started a war, gringo. A war.” He jerked his finger toward his men and walked to the front door.

  The door opened and Damien stood there.

  His presence surprised Raul only briefly, but brief was long enough.

  Damien stepped across the threshold, raised his gun, and fired a bullet into Raul’s forehead so fast that at first no one reacted. Bella froze, uncertain what was going to happen next. The boisterous men in the center of the bar were completely silent. Everyone else was either part of Hirsch’s group or Diaz’s group.

  No one reacted, that is, except Jack Kincaid in the corner. He had his gun out and table turned over as a shield so fast Bella wondered if he’d begun his defensive stance as soon as the door opened. His movement snapped Bella out of her trance and she pulled her gun out and crouched behind the table.

  Hirsch’s men had stood as soon as the door opened, and now surrounded Diaz’s men. None of them had the chance to draw. The Moore brothers stared in shock. Hirsch stood, walked over to the brothers, and said, “You made the right decision. Don’t make me regret it, or you all will end up with a bullet in your heads, do you understand?”

  The shortest of the three, who was clearly the oldest, nodded even though he was visibly shaking. “Yes, boss.”

  Hirsch crossed the room to Diaz’s men. “Will you work for me?” he asked the group.

  No one said anything, eyeing each other for answers that none of them had because their leader had been murdered in cold blood. Hirsch sighed, took out a gun, and shot one of them in the gut.

  The other men all drew. How the hell did they think they would survive this? It was a dozen to four. But Hirsch was in the line of fire—he was going to get himself killed. What the hell was he thinking?

  Bella needed to get out of here. One of the men along the periphery jumped up. When had he come in? Right. He was one of two guys who’d come in earlier, but he wasn’t with Hirsch. Diaz had stacked the room as well. The men in the center all had guns. They were not part of Hirsch’s operation. Had he really thought they were neutral?

  Hirsch had started this blood bath.

  The man on the periphery grabbed Bella as she started for the exit in the back. He held a gun to her head. “Drop it, you fucking bastard!” he screamed at Hirsch. “You’ll pay for this!”

  Hirsch stared at him. “Do you think I care what you do to her?” Then he looked Bella in the eye and nodded. What the hell? What did he expect of her? Was this some sort of fucking test? With her life?

  Bella could see Sean Rogan shift in his seat. But Jack Kincaid remained in the corner, watching.

  Jack had experience. He’d been a mercenary. He had a sense of the room and situation, and if he thought she was in immediate danger he would have acted. Right?

  Right?

  She didn’t know what to think at this point.

  Do something, Bella!

  She went boneless. The guy holding her was startled, let her drop, and she rolled, pulled her gun, and shot him in the neck. She’d been aiming center mass, but the gun had a bigger kick than she expected and it jerked up.

  Just like Damien had told her.

  He went down. She’d hit an artery in his neck and blood sprayed everywhere.

  Fuck fuck fuck!

  Behind her more guns went off. She crawled under a table and shielded her head as glass and wood shattered all around her. One of the Moore brothers collapsed. The young kid. She crawled over to him. His brothers looked panicked. What did they expect when they got into bed with a fucking psycho nutjob like Martin Hirsch?

  “Help me!” he cried. The oldest brother dragged his wounded brother to a corner, partly behind the bar.

  “Can you save him? Please?” Moore begged, clearly worried and agitated.

  He’d been shot in the upper shoulder. She pulled out her pocket knife and cut open his shirt. She felt the wound behind him. The bullet had gone straight through. It was too high to have hit any major organs. “It’s a through and through,” she said. “He’s going to be okay, but you need to get him—”

  What was she saying? They wouldn’t take him to a hospital.

  “We gotta get out of here,” Moore said. “The cops are going to be here any minute.”

  The gunfire ended.

  She heard Hirsch shout, “Doc, we’re leaving. Now.”

  She didn’t understand what Hirsch’s game was. To force her to kill a man? In a twisted sense of ensuring her appreciation and loyalty? She understood everything he’d done tonight to gain power—except for putting her in the middle of danger.

  She turned to the oldest Moore brother. “Get him on antibiotics. Something strong. Clean the wound with alcohol. Stitch him up, bandage him, make sure the bleeding stops. If the bleeding doesn’t stop you have to take him to the hospital. But if you can get the bleeding to stop, and keep the bandage dry and clean, he should be okay.”

  The two brothers were helping their fallen brother get up. Damn, they were going to get away, but there was nothing Bella could do about it now.

  “Now, Doc!” she heard Damien shout.

  She jumped up. She looked at the bodies on the floor, then the man at the bar. Sean. He’d been shot in the arm. “Oh God, are you okay?”

  He gave her a br
ief nod, started toward the back of the bar, bumping into her.

  “Come with me,” he said in a low voice, not looking at her.

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  He slipped something into her back pocket and ran out the back. She prayed no one noticed, or they’d shoot him in the back and search her.

  Instead, Damien came over and grabbed her by the arm and half dragged her out. Sirens shrilled in the distance.

  One of Hirsch’s men had a car already running. The three of them—Hirsch, Damien, and Bella—climbed in and it sped away.

  For the first time in her life, Bella felt like a real criminal.

  She didn’t like it.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Sean pursued the three men who’d left the bar. Though he’d gotten the phone to Bella, he couldn’t be certain she would call, and these men were affiliated with Hirsch. They could very well know their plan, or at a minimum where Hirsch’s next stop would be.

  After tonight, Sean didn’t see Hirsch sticking around El Paso.

  As soon as Sean stepped out of the bar he heard a gunshot. Wood splintered only inches from his shoulder. He pulled his gun and stayed flush in the rear doorway of the bar. At first he couldn’t tell where the gunfire came from because the lighting was non-existent out here—in fact, Sean was in the single worst place because the only light was one lone bulb outside the rear door.

  Declan Cross was supposed to be watching the back. They couldn’t risk Damien or Hirsch possibly recognizing him from Phoenix, so they kept him out of sight. Where the hell was he?

  About forty feet away a truck dome light came on, followed by swearing.

  “No hospitals!” he heard, then a grunt of pain.

  Sean bolted from his hiding spot to the Dumpster ten feet away—and ten feet closer to the vehicle. It was a beat-up pickup truck and all three men were in the lone front bench seat.

  “I saw someone!”

  “Just go, Wally!”

  The door closed.

  Another gunshot rang out but it wasn’t coming from the truck.

  Someone emerged from the scrub grass. The headlamps grazed over him and Sean recognized Declan.

  “Police!” Declan shouted. “Out of the truck!”