Breaking Point (Troubleshooters, Book 9)
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Uncommon valor in the line of duty and unconditional devotion in the name of love are the salient qualities of the daring men and women who risk it all in the heart-pounding thrillers of New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Brockmann. Crafted with precision and power, her characters come alive with a depth of emotion few writers have achieved. Now, with Breaking Point, Brockmann breaks even further through the pack and delivers a stunning payload.
As commander of the nation’s most elite FBI counterterrorism unit, agent Max Bhagat leads by hard-driving example: pushing himself to the limit and beyond, taking no excuses, and putting absolutely nothing ahead of his work. That includes his deep feelings for Gina Vitagliano, the woman who won his admiration and his heart with her courage under fire. But when the shocking news reaches him that Gina has been killed in a terrorist bombing, nothing can keep Max from making a full investigation–and retribution–his top priority.
At the scene of the attack, however, Max gets an even bigger shock. Gina is still very much alive–but facing a fate even worse than death. Along with Molly Anderson, a fellow overseas relief worker, Gina has fallen into the hands of a killer who is bent on using both women to bait a deadly trap. His quarry? Grady Morant, a.k.a “Jones,” a notorious ex-Special Forces operative turned smuggler who made some very deadly enemies in the jungles of Southeast Asia . . . and has been running ever since. But with Molly’s life on the line, Jones is willing to forfeit his own to save the woman he loves.
Together with Max’s top agent Jules Cassidy as their only backup, the unlikely allies plunge into a global hot zone of violence and corruption to make a deal with the devil. Not even Jones knows which ghosts from his past want him dead. But there’s one thing he’s sure of–there’s very little his bloodthirsty enemies aren’t willing to do.
Count on the intense action and raw honesty that Suzanne Brockmann consistently delivers, as she goes for broke in Breaking Point–and never looks back.
From the Hardcover edition.
what Max was. He was just making noise, killing time. Which was fine with Jules. Every step Emilio took shifted the odds in Jules’s favor. It shifted them infinitesimally, sure. But he’d take whatever he could get. “Max is actually unemployed right now,” Jules told him, keeping the conversation going. “Although he has a history of his boss refusing to accept his resignation letters. I think, though, after he kills you and Colonel Whosis and everyone else that you’re working with . . . ? He’s
crapload of weapons, to an extremely powerful al Qaeda operative who went missing back in 2001, from Afghanistan.” He looked up as he popped the diskette out of the computer, put the next one in. “Guess he’s not dead.” “We have to tell someone,” Molly said. “We could tell this colonel who’s coming,” Gina suggested. Jones cleared his throat. “I meant, what do you think about—” “I think you’ve figured out who wants you and why,” Max interrupted him. “So far I’ve found a pretty solid connection
they’d sent Molly and Gina down to the weapon pile, to select guns that they felt comfortable holding? What if there had really been two plans—one that Max and Jones told Gina and Molly, and one in which Max actually did deliver Grady Morant to the colonel? “Oh, dear Lord,” Molly breathed. There was definitely blood on the kitchen floor, on the table, smeared on the knob of one of the cabinets. Blood even tinged a bowl of water that sat near the sink. As if someone had rinsed their hands
time-traveling anthropology professor look. Molly wasn’t close enough to tell if Gina’s rather unkind guess was on target—that he had bad breath, too—but she wouldn’t have been at all surprised if she were correct. At the very least, he looked as if he reeked of emotional neglect. “It’s Leslie, right?” she said, finding a smile for him, because it wasn’t his fault that he’d wandered in here during her alone time, an Englishman in perpetual search of tea. “I’m Molly Anderson.” He didn’t move an
. . perfect than the real life version.” “But what if he’s not? What if the real guy is even better than your wildest imaginings?” Gina asked. Jules laughed his scorn. “I doubt that. Besides, he walks around like he’s got cruise control—his trolling is on autodrive.” “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Gina said. “But a guy who’s cruising, who only wants sex, doesn’t he tend to skip the invite for drinks?” “Well, yeah,” Jules admitted. “But . . . maybe he was thirsty.” “Maybe,” Gina countered,