Jo silently prayed that the hostage-taker wouldn’t do anything foolish. She relaxed slightly when she saw his finger ease off the trigger. He dropped his arm, and Rico let out a long, slow breath. His relief was short-lived, though. The man suddenly stood straighter, braced himself, and punched Rico in the gut with the Beretta, the full force of his weight behind the blow. Rico fell forward, landing hard on the tile floor. He gasped for breath, unable to speak, unable to even moan.
Their captor backpedaled, looking over the rest of them. “The next person who confronts me dies.” He stepped into the hall but stayed near the door.
Rico tried desperately to breathe, sucking in hoarsely and then coughing violently. Douglas wiped his brow and shook his head. Everyone seemed afraid to move—all they could do was sit there, helpless, watching Rico struggle. Jo glanced to the door, wary of the hostage-taker. She didn’t want to anger him any more than he already was. Then she carefully reached out and touched Rico, but he shrugged her off. Finally, he crawled toward the spot where he’d been before, and Cameron helped him into a sitting position. Rico put his hands on his knees and rested his head on his forearms. His breathing remained labored, and he didn’t look up. The smell in the room grew worse, the odor of sweat tangible. Jo had been in plenty of terrifying situations, but her adrenaline still ran high. Next to her, Sabrina continued to shake.
“Keep taking deep breaths,” Jo whispered.
Sabrina nodded. “My heart’s racing, but I’ll be fine,” she murmured.
Jo glanced to the hall. QB appeared distracted, and after a moment, Jo realized why. A phone was ringing somewhere, the sound faint but audible. She couldn’t recall if it had rung before, but she figured it must have. Enough time had transpired for the police to obtain a direct line into the bank, and they would be trying to contact the hostage-takers. If they didn’t want to talk, the phone would ring and ring.
It cut off abruptly. That was a good sign. Any kind of conversation between the hostage-takers and a negotiator meant hope for the little group. Stretch was probably on the phone, communicating his demands to a negotiator. If that person was good, they’d be listening, empathizing, trying to build rapport and trust with him. Those were critical steps in the process, ways to keep the situation in control. The negotiator would do everything to keep the hostages alive, not wanting any loss of life. Hopefully the hostage-takers didn’t want it either.
A loud humming noise emanated from the vault all of a sudden. They’re drilling the safety deposit box doors, Jo thought. She eyed their captor, who was now staring into the room. The group didn’t try to talk over the drilling. The noise went on for a while, and then a series of bangs and thumps replaced it.
Several minutes ticked by, tense and thick. A voice called out, and the man looked away from the storage room, then spun around and hurried toward the vault door. He kept the Beretta aimed back toward them as he looked into the vault and spoke in a low tone, inaudible to the little group.
“Something’s happening,” Cameron murmured.
Douglas was farthest from the storage room door, and he leaned forward, trying to look out. “What’s going on?”
“Shh,” Darlene said. “Don’t do anything to bring them back in here.”
Barbara nodded, finding some strength. “Do as they say.”
Cameron sneered. “As long as Rico doesn’t do anything stupid.”
Jo glanced at Rico. He remained where he was, head down, but his shoulders stiffened at the mention of his name. Hopefully he would remain quiet this time. The rest of the group were growing restless, which was bad. They’d already had one altercation, and they couldn’t afford more. At some point, the situation could grow more violent. And as soon as the hostage-takers killed one person, they might not worry about killing more.
“They’re talking to the police,” Jo said. “They’ll be negotiating, figuring out a way to get us out of here. We just have to wait.”
“I don’t know,” Cameron muttered.
Douglas nodded toward Jo. “She’s right. We need to do what they say, just like we’ve been trained to do. It’s our best option.”
“Sabrina, are you going to be all right?” Jo asked.
She nodded and leaned the back of her head against the cabinet. “I’m so scared.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll make it out.”
The drilling noises and the pounding stopped, and in unison, everyone looked to the hall.
“What’re they doing?” Douglas whispered.
Jo eyed QB, who was staring into the vault once more. His pistol had lowered slightly, no longer aimed right at them.
“I don’t know,” she said.
As the fresh silence stretched out, so did the fear in the room. Everyone tensed, and Rico raised his head, but he wisely didn’t say anything. Jo strained to hear. There was only a faint sound of air blowing through ducts.
Then QB started walking toward the storage room, the Beretta raised once more. Behind him, Grunt emerged from the vault, the duffel bag in his left hand. It looked bulkier than before, full now. The pair hurried toward them, and QB stood to the side as Grunt looked around the room. His gaze settled on Rico, and he pointed his Beretta at him.
“You, get up,” Grunt ordered.
“What do you want?” Rico asked.
Jo was going to chide him, but before she could, Grunt aimed and pulled the trigger. A bullet hit the cabinet door next to Rico’s head, sending shards of wood flying. Screams filled the air, and everyone instinctively ducked. Rico covered his ears. Jo sucked in a breath. Grunt knew what he was doing—a close shot like that served its purpose. The hostages were terrified, and they would likely be more compliant.
“Don’t kill me!” Rico sniveled.
“Get up, or I’ll kill you,” Grunt said.
Rico scrambled to his feet.
CHAPTER FOUR
Grunt took a small piece of rope from his pocket and yanked Rico’s hands behind him. Jo expected the employee to resist, but for once, he was smart. He stood straight, staring ahead as Grunt bound his wrists behind him. Jo watched the whole time, thinking there would be nothing investigators could decipher from the rope. It looked ordinary, probably purchased at a Home Depot or Lowe’s. Something that couldn’t be traced back to them. Even if fingerprints could’ve been lifted from the fibers, Grunt still had his gloves on, so there was no hope for that. Next, he pulled a black cloth from his pocket and blindfolded Rico. That elicited a small snivel from the man. Grunt pushed him forward, and he disappeared from view. Then he returned to address the rest of them, gesturing with his gun.
“Stay here. You try to come out, you’re dead.”
No one said a word as Grunt reached in, flicked the light switch, and shut the door. The storage room was plunged into darkness. The doorknob rattled, followed by a thumping sound, which seemed to startle Sabrina based on her small gasp. Jo thought fast. If the hostage-takers were still negotiating, one of the men might be positioned near the storage room door, ready to shoot if anyone emerged. She doubted that, though. They looked like men who were ready to leave the bank. And if they had left, would they have been able to lock the storage room door? If not, they had probably placed something under the knob to prevent anyone in the room from opening the door. Worse, they could’ve placed a bomb in the hall.
The room remained deathly still for a moment, stilted breathing mounting the tension level. Then the air-conditioner kicked on, a small hum behind the walls.
“Are they still there?” Barbara asked in a whisper, fear still in her voice.
The group would be wondering what to do next, and Jo knew she had to take control.
