Breaking point delta for.., p.1
Breaking Point (Delta Force Strong Book 7), page 1
Breaking Point
Delta Force Strong Book #7
Elle James
Twisted Page Inc
Contents
Breaking Point
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Wyatt’s War
Chapter 1
Afterword
About the Author
Also by Elle James
Breaking Point
Delta Force Strong Book #7
New York Times & USA Today
Bestselling Author
ELLE JAMES
Copyright © 2021 by Elle James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-62695-364-2
PRINT ISBN: 978-1-62695-365-9
Dedicated to Megan and Cleve for running interference while I worked under an impossible deadline.
Go Team!
Author’s Note
Enjoy other military books by Elle James
Delta Force Strong
Ivy’s Delta (Delta Force 3 Crossover)
Breaking Silence (#1)
Breaking Rules (#2)
Breaking Away (#3)
Breaking Free (#4)
Breaking Hearts (#5)
Breaking Ties (#6)
Breaking Point (#7)
Breaking Dawn (#8)
Visit ellejames.com for titles and release dates
For hot cowboys, visit her alter ego Myla Jackson at mylajackson.com
and join Elle James's Newsletter at
https://ellejames.com/contact/
Chapter 1
John “Tank” Sanders adjusted the septic line to his shiny silver Airstream camp trailer. If the contractor had finished building the house on his property when he was supposed to, John wouldn’t have had to resort to living in his recreational vehicle for the final two months of construction. But he’d already given notice to his apartment complex, packed all the stuff he cared about and sold the rest. Not that he had much. Living in apartments, transferring from post to post and being deployed as a US Army Delta Force operator, kept him from accumulating too much junk. A few photographs, a collection of vinyl records, his favorite easy chair, an assortment of fishing tackle and a few other items, had been relegated to a storage unit for the time being.
Not having much meant he’d start from scratch furnishing his new home. That would be expensive. He snorted softly. As if the entire building process hadn’t been expensive to begin with. It irritated him to no end that he could easily have performed a majority of the construction himself.
If he wasn’t on call to be deployed.
As a teen, he’d worked in construction during the summers, framing houses, laying tile, roofing buildings and more. He could have done everything except the concrete work. However, he preferred to let the plumbers lay in the pipes and the electricians the wiring. Some things were better left to those with a lot more experience than he had in those areas.
As he washed his hands beneath the water hose, a commotion caught his attention.
“Hey!” a young man shouted.
Tank dropped the hose and spun.
Four guys dressed in black T-shirts and black cargo pants with the waistbands resting low enough to display four inches of boxer shorts, circled a teenaged girl with auburn hair, refusing to let her out of their control. A tall, thin young man with dark hair and a pale complexion tried to push his way through the guys to get to the girl.
“She’s too pretty for a geek like you.” A guy with a nose ring and a spike piercing through his eyebrow lifted a lock of auburn hair and sniffed it. “Mmm, and she smells good.”
The girl jerked her head away and spit at the young man. “Back off, jerk face.”
Piercing Guy stepped toward her, raising his fists. “Why you—"
The tall thin teen lunged toward him. “Leave her alone!”
“Or what?” The biggest of the dudes in black shirts shoved the thin guy so hard he staggered backward.
Once he steadied, the thin man stood out of range of the bully’s hands, his brow furrowing. “Or…or I’ll call the police.”
“Go ahead. By the time they get here, we’ll be gone,” the bully said. “With your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” the young man said. “She’s my friend.”
“In that case, she’ll be my girlfriend.” The bully slipped his arm around the auburn-haired girl’s shoulder.
The young woman snorted. “Like hell.” She jabbed her elbow hard into the bully’s side, ducked out from beneath his arm and stepped away from the circle of guys in black.
Tank nearly laughed at how quickly the girl escaped her tormentors. He wanted to shout, good for you, but stayed out of it. He didn’t like to get involved unless he absolutely had to. In the back of his mind, he knew he’d have to do something to de-escalate the tension between the bullies and the other two young people. However, he really hoped they’d sort it out before he had to intervene.
“Bitch.” The bully lunged toward the girl.
Tank closed the distance between himself and the group in four long strides and came to a stop between the thin man and the girl. He crossed his arms over his chest and faced off with the leader of the group of bullies.
The big guy stood tall, coming a couple inches short of Tank’s six foot three inches.
Tank tipped his head back slightly and stared down his nose at the thug. “You live around here?”
“Maybe we do,” the bully said, his eyes narrowing as if daring anyone to dispute.
“Do they?” Tank asked.
The girl shook her head. “No.”
Tank braced his feet, raised his chin just a bit more and said, “Leave.”
“You can’t tell us what to do,” Piercing Guy said, standing a few steps behind his leader.
Tank wasn’t worried about the guy with the piercings. It wouldn’t take much to put him in his place. He wasn’t really worried about the bully either. Bullies usually took advantage of their size to intimidate.
Tank used his head. Size only went so far in a fight. Cunning and skill made the difference in whether you won or lost. Tank had the skills. He’d bet his favorite knife the bully only knew how to throw punches, not how to aim for effectiveness.
“Stay out of it, old man,” the big bully said.
Heat rose up Tank’s neck into his head. He tamped down the flash of anger, refusing to let the younger man know his words had hit a sore spot. Hell, it shouldn’t be a sore spot. Not every Delta lived through some of their missions. Being older meant he’d escaped death on a number of occasions. He’d even begun to dream about retiring from the military in four short years. He tried not to think about it. A lot could happen in four years. He didn’t want to jinx himself. “Just leave.”
The bully stepped closer. “You gonna make me?”
Tank drew in a deep breath and let it out through his nose. “Yeah.”
The big guy motioned Tank forward with a sneer and a lift of his chin. “Bring it.”
Tank shook his head. “You don’t want this.”
“No?” Bully snorted. “Try me.” His buddies gathered around him, ready to make the odds four-to-one.
Again, Tank shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
The bully’s bark of laughter did little to shake Tank’s confidence. “The only one who’s gonna get hurt is you, old man.” He tipped his head toward Tank. “Let’s do this.” As he moved forward, his followers moved with him, surrounding Tank.
Tank stood his ground. If they wanted a piece of him, they’d have to take the first swing.
“Call 9-1-1,” the girl urged the tall skinny guy. She dove for a rotting two-by-four board lying on the ground beneath the trailer beside her. When she straightened, she ran to stand beside Tank.
Tank blocked her from passing him. “Stay back.”
She frowned. “They’re going to cream you.” With both hands gripping the board, she faced the gang with her lips pulled back in a fierce snarl.
She was cute in her fierceness…but the board was rotted and wouldn’t hold up long enough to help. “I’ve got this,” he assured her. “I don’t want to worry about you getting caught in the crossfire.”
“But…” she started, her eyebrows dipping.
The young, thin man gripped her arm and pulled her back several steps. “I’ve notified the police,” he said quietly.
“That’s right, chicken shit,” the bully called out to the thin young man. “Hide behind your girlfriend.”
“Shut up,” the girl said.
“You think you’re so tough now that you have someone else to stick up for you?” The bully raised his fists and took a swing at Tank.
Tank was ready. He caught the fist in his palm. The force behind the swing made his hand hurt. A little. He wrapped his hand around the man’s fist, pushed the hand down, snagged his wrist and spun him around. Then
The sound gave Tank a small measure of satisfaction.
The bully’s friends stood a few feet away, their eyes wide.
Tank stared at them between slitted eyes and whispered, “Boo.”
The other three gang members backed away so fast, one fell on his ass.
Tank would’ve laughed, but he couldn’t. The man he held with his arm up his back squirmed.
“Let go of me,” he demanded.
“Not until you apologize to the lady and her boyfriend for being mean to them,” Tank demanded.
The bully snorted. “Fuck you and fuck her.”
Tank leaned close to the man’s ear. “Now, you’ll have to apologize for your language as well.” He increased the pressure on the man’s arm until the bully stood on his tiptoes, his face breaking out in a sweat.
“Okay, okay,” he cried. “I apologize.”
Still holding tightly onto the man’s arm, Tank refused to relent. “For what?”
“For being mean and cussing.” He threw his head back. “Let go!”
Tank gave the man a shove, sending him flying forward. He landed on his hands and knees in the dust.
When he pushed to his face, he spun to face Tank and pulled a gun from the pocket of his hoodie. “You aren’t so commanding now, are you?”
Tank’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You better make your first shot count. You won’t get a second.”
The pierced guy shook his head. “Look, Sly, I ain’t getting involved in no gun fight. Neither should you.”
“Shut up, Bodie,” Sly said. “You’re as much of a chicken shit as Alston is.” The bully tipped his head toward the tall skinny dude.
“Think twice before you shoot,” a woman’s voice sounded behind the bully.
All eyes turned toward the sound.
Tank stared at an older version of the girl who could have been her sister, but he guessed was her mother. She held a pistol in her hand, aimed at the bully. Her hand was steady, her jaw set in a firm line. The fierce expression in her eyes, the way she stood with her feet slightly apart and her shoulders thrown back made Tank’s groin tighten. She was like a Valkyrie bent on slaying the enemy. Or a mother bear willing to take on a pack of wolves to save her cub.
Sly snorted and turned his weapon toward the woman. “You won’t shoot.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits of green. “Try me.” Her pretty lips pressed into a thin line, and her hand remained steady, her gun aimed at Sly’s chest. “The question is whose bullet will leave the gun first?”
For a long moment, Sly stared at the woman, his cheeks a ruddy red, his lip curled back in a feral snarl. Finally, he tucked his gun into the pocket of his hoodie and turned to Ryan, the skinny guy. “Tell your brother he owes us. And I collect on my debts.” With a quick jerk of his head toward the others in his group, Sly led the way back to their motorcycles. He straddled a black Harley with a devil’s head and purple flames painted on the fuel tank.
The other guys rode a variety of motorcycles, none as fancy or expensive as Sly’s. Once they started the engines, they revved them loudly then spun out in the gravel, leaving a trail of Texas dust in their wake.
Still holding her gun pointed at the leader of the pack, the woman watched until the four motorcycles disappeared out of the trailer park. When they were gone, she lowered her weapon, let go of a long shaky breath and turned back to Tank. “Thank you,” she said.
He shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.” Tank nodded toward the gun in her hand. “You had all the incentive they needed. How experienced are you with that?”
She laughed. “Not a bit. I’m not even sure there’s a bullet chambered.”
“Do you mind?” Tank held out his hand.
“Sure. I bought it when we moved into the park.” She turned the gun around and handed it to him by the handle. “I haven’t had time to go to the range and practice.”
He ejected the magazine from the handle, a sinking feeling hitting him low in the belly. The magazine was empty, as was the gun. “These aren’t effective if you don’t put bullets in them.”
Her lips twisted in a wry grin. “I’ve had it a month. This is the first time I took it out of the box it came in. I do have bullets, but I guess they’re still in the box.” She shrugged. “At least it got the point across.”
Tank inserted the magazine into the handle, checked the safety switch and handed the gun back to her. “You should make time to go to the range, in case those guys decide to come back. They might not fall for your bluff a second time.”
She sighed and shifted the gun to her other hand. “I’m Collette McCallick.”
He wrapped his fingers around hers and felt their warmth. “John Sanders.” A shock of awareness blasted through his veins at the feel of her smooth skin against his calluses.
Collette lifted her chin toward his camp trailer. “Staying long?”
He shrugged. “As long as it takes for the contractors to finish building my house. They’re a couple of months behind, and my apartment lease was up.”
The woman gave a brief smile. “Nice that you had a choice and don’t have to move into a hotel for that timeframe.”
“Yeah.” He looked toward the single-wide mobile home the woman’s daughter stood beside. “How long are you here?”
Her gaze went to the trailer that had seen better days. The paint was faded, and the wooden porch was so weathered it needed several boards replaced, and the railing was hanging uselessly in one place. “This is home.” Her gaze returned to his. “At least for the next year.”
“A year?”
“That’s how long it’ll take for me to get through the rest of my education.”
Not normally one to strike up a conversation with a stranger, Tank couldn’t help asking, “Education?”
“I’m studying to be a nurse.” She sighed. “And I really should get back to my books. I have a test tomorrow. Thanks again. And welcome to the park. Sorry it isn’t so friendly.” She gave him a crooked grin and fell in step behind the younger version of herself and the teenaged boy climbing up the rickety wooden stairs to the trailer.
Tank’s gaze followed the trio, his attention lingering on the pretty mother of the teen. She didn’t look to be much more than a teen herself. Except for some very fine lines around her eyes, she looked as fresh-faced as her daughter.
Collette turned in the doorframe and glanced back to where he stood. A pretty, pink blush filled her cheeks. She entered the trailer and shut the door. When the latch didn’t engage, she opened and closed it a second time. Again, it wouldn’t close all the way. Finally, she slammed the door hard, and the latch held.
His first day in the trailer park, and he’d already set up his trailer, hooked up the water and septic lines, broken up a fight and rescued a couple of women being threatened by a motorcycle gang. Being in a trailer park hadn’t been his idea, but the campgrounds were filled with summer travelers, and they were too expensive for the two months he had to wait for the construction crews to finish his house. For two months, he should be able to put up with anything.
And if a woman and her daughter could survive in the park, he could, too.
He frowned, his gaze on the closed door. He wasn’t convinced the mother and daughter were all that safe. If the motorcycle gang returned, they could easily overtake the pretty little redhead and her gorgeous mother. After being humiliated at the point of a gun, the gang might decide to return to exact their revenge.
Images of drive-by shootings and Molotov cocktails flashed through Tank’s mind. If those thugs decided they didn’t like how someone had threatened them, they could come back and cause a whole lot of trouble.
Shoving the woman’s dilemma to the back of his mind, he double-checked the electric, water and sewer lines. Satisfied they were all functioning appropriately, he entered his tiny as hell trailer and closed the screen door, leaving the metal door open.
