Read Fight for Her#3 for Free Online Page B

middle of a loading bay, just waiting for us. I turn to Colt, who is looking over the room to make sure there’s nobody around.
    “I guess they didn’t feel like they needed anyone to stay behind,” Colt says.
    “Maybe they all ran after Maddie,” I say.
    We creep up to the van just in case, but the back doors are thrown open. There’s nobody inside.
    “So what’s the plan?” I ask.
    “Sam has an idea.”
    “Sam?”
    “One of Jax’s friends.”
    I met Jax when Colt and I first arrived at the warehouse. He stuck a GPS sticker on my arm and tapped my phone with his, loading an app that would track us. Maddie was right about the 007 bit. I didn’t know people with gadgets existed.
    A dark-skinned man with the body of a linebacker strides into the room like he owns it. I turn, ready to attack, but Colt lowers my arms. “That’s Sam,” he says.
    “You ready to have some fun?” he asks, setting a black bag on the ground.
    “Always ready,” Colt says. “Where is everybody?”
    “Jax is getting Maddie out of the building,” Sam says.
    “Where’s Maddie going to go?” I ask.
    “Wherever she tells Jax’s driver to take her.” He reaches down to unzip the bag.
    “What about that other dude?” Colt asks.
    “Klaus is placing bets on fighters.”
    “Really?” Colt says. “All play, no work.”
    Sam pulls a red box from his bag and inspects it. “Everybody bailed on Striker after your fighter friend here took on four of them.” He looks up at me. “So they went to watch the fights. Klaus is down there keeping an eye on them. He had to fit in, you know.” He winks.
    “I thought people didn’t bring girls to the fights,” I say. “Maddie said there were two girls in the van.”
    “Weren’t any women down by the cage, but I’ll make sure we keep tabs on them.” Sam puts the box back in the bag and taps something out on his phone. “All right, let’s rig up this van.”
    “What are we doing?” I ask. I’m annoyed. It’s been a night from hell for all of us, and this joker is acting like it’s a funhouse ride.
    “A few pyrotechnics,” Sam says. He runs his hands along the back bumper. “This beauty has seen its last days.”
    “You’re going to blow it up?” Shit. That’s hard-core. Are they going to kill everyone?
    “They’ll think so,” Sam says with a laugh. “It’s my favorite revenge gag.” He starts unpacking some suspiciously dynamite-looking packages. He tosses one to Colt and I flinch, wondering what would happen if he dropped it.
    “There’s a tab to pull off and show the sticky side,” he says. “Attach it inside the front driver wheel housing.”
    Colt rips off a strip of green tape.
    Sam hands one to me. “Rear passenger side.” He glances up. “Don’t drop it. It’s set to trigger on impact.”
    Holy shit. And he just threw one! I grip it firmly and peel off the green tab. “How much blow does it have?” I ask.
    “Just enough to pop the tire. We don’t generally set out to kill random punks like these.” Sam takes out the red box again.
    But they kill other people?
    Sam walks up to one of the rear tail lights, pops off the cover, and removes the bulb.
    I kneel by the back wheel and stick the package up against the inside of the van body near the tire. Sam opens the passenger door and affixes the red box beneath the seat.
    “What’s that?”
    He reaches down again. An authoritative voice comes from the box, saying, “You have sixteen seconds to get out of the vehicle before it self-destructs.” Then it starts a countdown.
    I back away. “What the hell?”
    “It’s not hooked up yet,” Sam says as the number hits zero.
    “What happens after the countdown?”
    Sam reaches in the bag and pulls out six smaller versions of the mini-bombs. “These go off. Not much more than firecrackers, but it will damage the interior. If they don’t make it out, they could get some minor burns if they’re right on top of one.” He shrugs. “Technically it