Breaking Point (The Point Series: Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

end, though."
    "Do your lips always flap so freely?"
    "Excuse me? I don't think I've said an awful lot, really."
    "Yeah, you're wild cute."
    "And here, what about that boyfriend of yours? He works here too, doesn't he?"
    "You're asking a lot of questions you already know the answer to. Why don't you just tell me what you want?"
    "I want to talk to Brian Morgan."
    "He's not here."
    "Can you tell me where he is?"
    "No, I can't."
    Owen stood still and silent for a few seconds. He wanted to see Rachel squirm. She didn't cooperate.
    "Can you pay for your coffee, please? There are other people wanting served."
    Owen looked over his shoulder, saw a couple of housewives with shopping baskets. Neither of them smiled at him. He pulled a pound coin out of his pocket and flicked it at Rachel. She caught it and sighed.
    "Coffee's a pound thirty."
    He rooted three ten pence coins out of his pocket and dropped them on the counter. Rachel eyeballed him.
    "Thanks. Have a nice day." Her voice dripped with saccharine insincerity.
    "I'll see Brian later."
    "He'll be delighted, I'm sure."
    Owen's headache thumped at his brain like a kick-drum. He wanted to grab her by the cheap uniform and drag her over the countertop. Toss her into a magazine rack. Stomp on her sarky mouth.
    He smiled, gave her a little wave and strode out onto the forecourt. Stopped by the petrol pumps and took a deep breath of fumes. Told himself it'd be a bad idea to go back and ask for a packet of matches. There were cameras trained on every pump, mostly to stop chancers filling up and speeding off, but they'd work just fine to identify a man on foot.
    "Maybe later."
    "What's that?"
    Owen looked to his right. A bleary-eyed dad-type looked over the roof of a half-junked people carrier with a hopeful smile on his face. His kids were in the back, fighting with each other. Poor sap. He looked knackered and the morning hadn't even got going. Owen almost felt sorry for him.
    "Here, mate," Owen said.
    The dad tossed him a lazy backwards nod. Go ahead .
    "Fuck off, will you?"

This Aul House
    ––––––––
    "W ell, that's that ruined."
    Brian held up his hoodie. It was scorched, soggy and smelled of petrol.
    "That's a shame, man," Tony said. "But I appreciate the sacrifice."
    "Enough to buy me a new hoodie?"
    "I gave you free weed, didn't I?"
    And you'll never fucking let me forget it. Brian took a deep breath. "Right enough. Thanks for that."
    "Hardly much point in cleaning up, is there?"
    "Up to you, Tony. You're the one has to live here."
    "The landlord won't be long hearing about this. I'm better off doing a midnight flit."
    "In the morning?"
    "Why wait?"
    "You know you can't stay with me."
    "Yeah, your missus made that pretty clear."
    "Girlfriend."
    "Same difference if you're living together."
    Brian rubbed his head stubble. "Whatever."
    "I have something sorted anyway."
    "When did you do that?"
    "Couple of days ago."
    "Were you expecting the petrol bomb?"
    "Of course not." Tony scratched a whiskered cheek. "Although, it's kind of an occupational hazard."
    Brian wanted to draw his hood up. He'd have to buy a new hoodie immediately. Or stop hanging around with a dealer.
    "So, where you going, man?"
    "My dojo."
    "Oh, right."
    Brian wasn't sure he'd heard him right. "Wait, did you say dojo?"
    "Yeah. Starting my own martial arts club, so I am."
    "Thought you did kung fu."
    Tony spread his feet and bent at the knees. His open hands whiffed through the air. They didn't seem to follow any pattern as far as Brian could see but he was a little impressed by the guy's energy. And he had to admit, the dealer moved pretty fast for a chubby guy.
    "Yeah, man. I know kung fu. Animal styles, Hop Gar, Wing Chun... I'll incorporate anything that works into my system."
    Brian didn't know a lot about martial arts but... "I thought those were all Chinese styles. Aren't dojos Japanese?"
    Tony slipped his fingers into the waistband of his baggy black trousers. He bounced slightly on the