Death Trap by Dreda Say Mitchell

would work to Rio’s advantage, but another civilian? No. That was going to make things messier. But she could do nothing as the protection officer – Officer Drake (his name was suddenly really important to her if anything happened) – and Stephen Foster followed the gunman’s instruction. Rio felt the body heat of both men as they stood close behind her right side.
    The gunman addressed Officer Drake. ‘Drop any weapons on the floor.’
    Rio could feel her colleague’s gaze shift sharply to her for guidance what to do, but she couldn’t look back, couldn’t take her eyes off the gunman and Nikki.
    ‘Do. It,’ she ordered.
    While the officer dropped his taser and CS gas, Rio mentally jammed as many facts in her mind about the gunman’s physical characteristics.
    White-olive skin.
    Skin only visible around the eyes.
    Five ten to eleven
    Light brown eyes. Can’t see if they had another colour mixed in with them.
    Defo English accent, but a slight roll in some words. West Country?
    Black Kagoul. Black tracksuit bottoms. No distinguishing marks on tracksuit. Black trainers, no marks on those either.
    Right-handed from the gun in his hand, but using his left hand with equal confidence.
    ‘You next, lady cop,’ the gunman continued his instructions.
    Rio eased her taser out and let it drop on the floor.
    ‘And the gas,’ the gunman’s voice held heat in it for the first time.
    Rio shook her head. ‘No CS. Search me if you doubt my word.’ She said the last deliberately, hoping he would take the bait to come into her personal space, which would give her the opportunity to attack. The material of the raincoat under his eyes moved and Rio realised that he was smiling. No, this man wasn’t fool enough to fall for that trick.
    ‘You.’ He now addressed Foster. ‘Lock the door.’
    But instead of following the instruction, Stephen Foster started running his mouth like the overpaid shark he was. ‘You’ll get at least ten years for threatening behaviour, five more for carrying a firearm . . .’
    ‘Shut the fuck up.’ It wasn’t the gunman but Rio who spoke. ‘Do what he said. Shut. The. Door.’
    ‘The lock is broken—’
    Rio just did it because she was frightened what might happen next if this legal prick kept sounding off; swiftly she twisted right and belted Foster a stinging open palm across his cheek. As his head rocked back in shock, Rio faced the gunman again, her palms in the air.
    ‘We’re OK,’ she offered quickly. ‘The door.’
    Foster finally did what he was told.
    ‘Both you men sit down and face the wall near the bathroom. Hands flat on the floor behind you.’
    As Foster and Drake faced the white wall Nikki let out a tiny moan. The paleness of her face worried Rio.
    ‘Why don’t you let the girl go?’
    But he wouldn’t play her game; the only game he wanted to play was his own. ‘If you stay rational, we can avoid any bloodshed.’
    ‘Why are you after the girl? Are you a member of the gang? If you—’
    ‘Come here.’
    Rio held her ground for a few seconds. Then approached him. As soon as she reached him, in one swift move, he pressed the gun to her forehead. Nikki slumped even further into the softness of the bed. He put the syringe in his pocket and then ran his spare hand up and down her suit like a nightclub bouncer. Satisfied that she was clean his next words chilled her.
    ‘Down on your knees facing the other way.’
    Nikki’s soft sobs tore through the air.
    Maybe Rio was the one who needed bitch slapping now because she refused to move. He increased the pressure of the barrel firmly against her skin.
    ‘I mean it and you know that.’
    Yes she did, so she started to move.
    ‘What the hell’s going on? Where are the police? Where’s my daughter?’ Patsy Bell hysterically yelled outside.
    That’s when he made his mistake. His eyes jumped to the closed door. Rio grabbed his gun arm the same time Nikki scrambled off and under the bed. He fought back just as