Fatal Risk: Task Force Cobra: Book 4 by Jon Peak

Author:Jon Peak [Peak, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Peek Publishing LLC
Published: 2023-12-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

BAMENDA, CAMEROON

Billy and I came up with a plan to deal with the three bodyguards at the Grand Bamenda Hotel. I left Chad Seals, Magda, and her spotter, Yitzhak, up on the sixth floor of the Axum Hotel. Two snipers were better than one.

Using our Bluetooth devices, we told Nakeisha Powers and Claude Mhlongo what we were planning.

After declining another call from Benji on my SAT phone, I entered the main lobby of the Grand Bamenda with Teresa T. Torres on my arm and went to the front counter to rent a room. The bar was off to the side and out of sight of the counter, but bar patrons could still see the entrance.

Claude was lounging in a chair in the front lobby with a perfect view of both the counter and the bar area.

Nakeisha was sitting at the bar. Not far from her was the Arab male we suspected of being with Al-Lafi. He’d been sitting in a comfy enough-looking chair near her for most of the day, watching the front entrance.

As the three of them had been there all afternoon, I’m pretty sure the Arab was suspicious of my people.

While T was at the counter, I slid over, keeping the wall to my back near the entrance to the bar, and casually glanced in.

Scotty walked through the hotel entrance and went straight into the drinking establishment. A former SEAL, Scotty “too Hotty” Anderson kept getting bounced around the SEAL community because he has the attention span of a squirrel. His blond hair, grey eyes, and chiseled features made him model handsome. Scotty would screw a snake if someone held the head long enough.

Scotty too Hotty sat down next to Nakeisha at the bar and smiled at her with a sparkle coming off his perfect teeth. “Well, hello there, gorgeous. My name is Scotty, I’m a Capricorn, I enjoy long, slow kisses on the beach, and my safe word is ‘Go Harder.’”

Nakeisha shook her head at the improv. “I’m afraid I don’t believe you. Men never tell the truth about themselves.”

“What makes you say that?” he said with his best lady-killer grin.

Nakeisha Powers held a hand up with her thumb and forefinger apart. “Because all my life, men have been telling me, this is six inches.”

During the banter, Scotty slipped a metal syringe into Nakeisha’s hand. The syringe contained a proprietary cocktail of ketamine, propofol, and fentanyl we’ve used before and like to call “Nite-nite juice.”

Palming the syringe, Nakeisha got up and deliberately approached the Arab man, who was scrolling through his cellphone. “Excuse me,” she said in Arabic. “That man is bothering me.” Pointing at Scotty. “Could you please help me?” Batting her eyes at him, she leaned over, showing off ample cleavage. “I would be so grateful if you could make him go away.”

The Arab was confused, but only at first, and got up to do her bidding. As he passed her, Nakeisha said in English, almost singing, “Thanks, sugar.” She jammed the needle into his neck, just above the shirt collar.

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