Free The Missile Game (The Dr. Scott James Thriller Series Book 1) by Glenn Shepard

a hook by the door on her way out.
    I sat there in a daze while a cacophony of thoughts prayed on my mind. By midnight Keyes was still not home, and I was exhausted. I stripped to my boxers and climbed into bed, falling into a deep sleep, seconds after my head hit the pillow.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
    Washington, DC
    10:00 pm
    THE TWO CIA CASE officers took the expensive cab ride to the Naked Monkey Bar, a DC hot spot where Omar Farok was known to mingle when he was in town. If everything went according to plan, Farok would soon be in their custody.
    But his bodyguards were always by his side, and they were brutal. Recruited from the Republic of the Congo, they came from the ranks of the rebels who’d fought in the Second Congo War, where they’d treated their prisoners with extreme cruelty. These were trained and experienced torturers. They knew how much injury they could inflict on a human body without killing their victim, frequently removing the victim’s organs and eating them, a ritualistic practice reflecting their tribe’s cannibalistic past. Torture of Farok’s girlfriends was a common thing.
    At midnight, Farok slipped out of the Naked Monkey Bar, and headed back to his rented townhouse. He walked briskly toward his destination, only four blocks away. He didn’t notice the two CIA operatives who were following him until he was within two blocks of the townhouse. He rarely went anywhere without bodyguards, but that night, he’d felt confidant. He’d misjudged. He’d been a fool to send his guards away.
    Farok rarely used his cell phone because there were too many electronic ears listening, waiting for him to slip up. But this was an emergency. He pressed “1” on his speed dial, and made an immediate connection.
    “I have company. Two of them,” he said quietly. “I’m two blocks away, on M Street by Connecticut Avenue. Take them before they take me.”
    Four men in black suits and starched white shirts without ties raced from their room to a limo parked at the curb for quick departure. Within a minute, they were behind the two CIA operatives trailing their boss. The limo slowed. Two of the bodyguards jumped from the car, crept up behind the CIA men, and slammed ten-inch jambiyas into their backs, just left of the spine. The attackers thrust upward and then sideways, carving gaping holes into the aorta and heart. As the agents fell forward, the Congolese killers grabbed them under their arms and dragged them to the limo. They shoved the bodies into the back and jumped in.
    The limo sped down the street until it caught up to Farok, then it slowed almost to a stop alongside him. The front passenger door swung open and Farok jumped into the car. While the car raced to a parking garage two blocks away, the rebels removed the cell phones from the pockets of the dead men, wiped off the blood, and handed them to Farok. “We’re leaving tonight,” Farok said in a quiet voice. “I want to be closer to the target when Celena locates it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
    Keyes’ Apartment
    Jackson City, North Carolina
    7:45 am
    I WOKE IN A cold sweat, heart racing, disoriented. It took me a minute to get my bearings. I pulled on my clothes and walked down the short hall to the bathroom. The door to Keyes’ bedroom was closed, but I could hear her snoring softly inside. Must’ve been a late night.
    After getting cleaned up, I went to the kitchen to make some coffee and breakfast. Except for a few bottles of water, some condiments, and a moldy cantaloupe, the refrigerator was pretty much bare, so I walked to the corner market to pick up a few groceries.
    An hour later, I was lifting one of my specialties, a veggie frittata, out of the oven when Keyes walked in. Laughing, she said, “You clean and cook? What more could a girl want?”
    “It’s the least I can do.”
    I looked into her sparkling eyes. They were inviting. I wanted to touch her, but controlled myself and forced my thoughts back to business mode. Keyes