Executive Risk: Task Force Cobra: Book 3

EXECUTIVE RISKTask Force Cobra Book 3Jon Peak Copyright © 2023 Jon PeakAll rights reservedThe characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.ISBN-13: 9798394677540ISBN-10: 1477123456Cover design by: Art PainterLibrary of Congress Control Number: 2018675309Printed in the United States of America To Kristen MarieI couldn't have done any of this without you. Contents Title PageCopyrightDedicationTASK FORCE COBRA:CHAPTER 1CHAPTER 2CHAPTER 3CHAPTER 4CHAPTER 5CHAPTER 6CHAPTER 7CHAPTER 8CHAPTER 9CHAPTER 10CHAPTER 11CHAPTER 12CHAPTER 13CHAPTER 14CHAPTER 15CHAPTER 16CHAPTER 17CHAPTER 18CHAPTER 19CHAPTER 20EPILOGUEBooks By This Author TASK FORCE COBRA:Book 3EXECUTIVE RISKJon PeakCopyright Jon Peak © 2023 CHAPTER 1COTACACHI MOUNTAINSECUADORDriving through the Cotacachi Mountains in Ecuador, we pulled onto another dirt path as the GPS told us we were almost there. The chief of security for my offices in Alexandria, Virginia, Matt Coogler, was driving the rented Chevy SUV while I rode shotgun. Literally.My Veritas plate carrier and battle rattle were strapped on, complete with my four-inch barrel Colt .45 in a plastic holster mounted on the front of my armor. Matt was dressed similarly, as was my business partner, big Billy Black—formally known as Gunnery Sergeant Billy Blackcloud—who sat in the back seat behind the driver.Also in the backseat was the DEA special agent who’d been forced on us and refused to be left behind in Colombia per my suggestion.We were all dressed in olive drab cargo pants and a variety of different shirts under our battle rattle. DEA Special Agent Tom Hobby wore a black plate carrier with soft Kevlar and no hard plates. He had DEA markers front and back stuck on with Velcro. I told him to strip the DEA panels off his vest, but Tom refused.We were picking up a Mexican cartel sicario known as the Zombie. The Zombie had a one-million-dollar bounty on his head thanks to the US Department of Justice. As a side note, the Sinaloa Cartel had a two-million-dollar bounty on him, so I was hoping to collect a twofer.The former cartel sicario or assassin, Ortego Morales, was being held by another mobster whose crime syndicate was run out of Northern Ecuador. The Zombie came here looking for sanctuary but forgot all his friends are criminals and killers too. After all, a million bucks is still a million bucks.My private military company, Task Force Cobra International, was being paid by the Department of Justice to collect this turd. DOJ would only pay if the sicario was delivered alive. The Sinaloa Cartel implied they would prefer the former cartel assassin dead but getting the death penalty in the US was almost as good.I have to admit, I’m a bit conflicted as to which bounty I should chase after.Mike Powell contacted me on comms via my earpiece. “Six, this is Four, we’re four hundred meters from the X.”“Roger.”Mike Powell was following us in another SUV with two more of my high-speed, low drag special operators acting as backup. When not working in intelligence, Powell ran our communications and signal warfare during most of our missions.Time for a last-minute check with all my elements, I keyed my mic. “Sierra One, report?”“Sierra One, on station,” Chad Seals replied. “You have a reception committee waiting at the front gate of the villa.”Sierra One was a two-man sniper team with some of my best operators. Chad “Serial Killer” Seals, a former US Navy SEAL from Team Three, and Cristóbal Rojas, a former Chilian Marine. Both men were positioned on one of the small mountain peaks surrounding the villa. Heavy vegetation covered the hills and roads, providing plenty of concealment.“Sierra Two, status?”“Sierra Two, on station. Don’t see anything out of the ordinary from our angle,” replied my second sniper team—two of our brand-new hires working for my private military company.Noah Kelly, a former sergeant with the Australian 1st Special Air Service Regiment, and former First Sergeant Ryan Thorne, recently retired out of the US Army Special Forces. Both men were first rate snipers.My sniper teams were merely providing overwatch in case of an emergency. I had no intention of targeting anyone. I haven’t lived this long working in this business without taking some precautions.Keying my mic again I said, “Cobra Zero, Six.”Teresa T. Torres, whom everyone just called T, responded. “Six, Zero, we’re up and running. I can see the villa with about five people in front. I got heat signatures coming from inside the house, maybe four or five more. Could be others we can’t see yet.”T ran our intelligence cell for Task Force Cobra International and commanded one of my Bravo Teams. T was currently in a large, rented Chev 3500 pickup truck about four kilometers away with two others. She’d launched a small, three foot drone the Army called an RQ-11 Raven. The drone feed was being piped directly to T’s laptop giving us ISR, or Intelligence, Surveillance, Reconnaissance capabilities.Morales was not only running from both United States and Mexican law enforcement, but he had a bounty on his head from almost every cartel in Mexico. Morales was a true mercenary, killing for whomever paid him the most. That lifestyle caught up with him, which I viewed as a cautionary tale for yours truly.Loyalty was a big deal to the cartels. Also, shooting mob bosses from across Mexico over the past ten years tends to draw some enemies. The US Department of Justice wanted him for killing a DEA agent in Mexico three years ago. Morales was also wanted for the killing of a Harris County Deputy Sheriff in Texas ten months ago.Contrary to what most people think, the cartels don’t target US law enforcement as a general rule. It’s bad for business.We pulled up to the main driveway of the villa, a nice artificial gravel road well-manicured along its length. Five