Fight for Her#3
Chapter 1: Parker

    I could not panic any more than I am right now.
    The two fighters who jumped out of the black van won’t let up no matter how many times I bash their faces in. One of the guys I leveled a minute ago is up and carrying Maddie away.
    I swing faster, harder, trying to break away. “Put her down!” I roar.
    The police sirens get closer, and this makes everyone panic. The man dumps Maddie into the open door of the van, and they pull away before it’s even closed.
    That’s IT. I smash my elbow into one guy’s jaw and shove him out of my way. The other one is still hanging on to me, but I knock him off as I take off running after the van. There’s a stop sign ahead and I have every intention of getting inside, smashing a window if I have to, hanging on to the rear door handles if nothing else.
    My adrenaline is hotter than it’s ever been during any cage match as I focus on my sprint. The van approaches the intersection, and I’m ready to leap on to it.
    But it doesn’t bother to stop.
    I suck air in and out and increase my pace. The other two fighters who were left behind haven’t caught up with me. I don’t have time to look back and see where they are.
    But the van accelerates, barreling down the side street like it’s a racetrack. Within seconds they have careened around a corner and I know by the time I get there they will be long gone. I squint at the license plate in the darkness, but I can’t make it out.
    They’ve got her.
    Maddie’s gone.
    I stop running. This is madness. Way beyond anything I could imagine Striker would ever do. Are they all planning to be felons now?
    Maddie isn’t cut out for this. She’ll freak out completely.
    Shit. What do I do?
    I turn back to look down the street where we had been. The two fighters are gone.
    I begin to jog back. My phone isn’t in my pocket. It must have fallen out in the scuffle.
    The cops should have arrived if they traced Maddie’s phone. But they haven’t gotten here yet.
    I stop for a second, listening. The sirens that seemed so close are actually receding now. They weren’t coming our way at all. They weren’t for us.
    I start to run again. When I get back to our spot, the only evidence we were there is Maddie’s purse, upturned on the ground, and the metal chain Striker brought. I pick them both up.
    Something glints in a flowerpot by the walk. My phone. Thank God. I snatch it up. Should I call the cops? Would they help?
    Would this make the news? Would Striker find out who Maddie is? I feel sure she won’t tell them. She’ll be worried for Lily.
    Lily.
    They can’t know about our daughter, Lily. She’s only four years old. If they’ll do this to me and Maddie, well, no telling what they might do to her.
    I dial Colt’s number and rush over to the bushes where Maddie threw her phone when one of the fighters tried to take it from her. While I wait for Colt to answer, I plow through the branches, not caring about the cuts of the sharp-edged leaves.
    The phone is on the ground in the middle of the bushes. The screen is cracked and it won’t turn on. Her 911 call didn’t stay connected. The cops didn’t know where to come, at least not close enough to make it.
    Colt’s voice is jovial. “Party too hard and need someone to scrape you off the floor somewhere?” he asks.
    I talk in a great rush. “Striker attacked again. Three guys. More in a black van. They took Maddie. She’s gone. They took her.”
    The phone is dead silent for a moment, then Colt says, “Did I hear you correctly? Striker kidnapped Maddie?”
    “Yes. I haven’t called the cops yet. If they put her on the news, they’ll know who she is. They can’t know. She’ll never tell them. But they’ll learn about Lily…” I can’t even go on. Anger and fear fight for dominance.
    “Where are you?” Colt asks.
    “Behind the Strip.” I give him the street.
    “We’re coming. I’ll bring a car.”
    “Should we call the cops?” I ask.
    “Not yet. I

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