Under the Radar. Fern Michaels

paper along with those of six or seven other cops. You have eight wives and about twenty kids if I remember correctly. No way were you taking us back to your little jail. You were going to drop us off at that hellhole where your polygamy people live. Well, Mister Law Enforcement, that ain’t gonna happen today.”

      A second later the cop’s gun was in Jess’s hand and he was dragging him back to the unmarked car, where he shoved him inside and hooked him up to the door handle with the FlexiCuffs. He rolled down all the windows and let the engine idle so the AC could operate. He glanced at the gas gauge. A quarter full. The AC would eat that up in fifteen minutes. Oh, well. Then he shot out all four tires, the sound ricocheting across the flats.

      Jess turned to Pearl to see how she was reacting to what was going on. He decided she was okay with everything that was playing out in front of her. The lady had guts, he had to give her that. “The reason I remember this guy so well is, his eight wives are on welfare. The local paper got feisty a few weeks back and did a big spread on the sect; then the paper clammed up, and there was no follow-up. You and me and all the other citizens are paying for all his kids and wives. There’s something wrong with that picture. Look, I’m expecting a new ride any minute now, so I’m going to have to knock this guy out cold before they arrive. Much as I hate to do it, we have to leave this bike behind even though it’s untraceable.”

      Pearl flapped her hands in the air to show she didn’t care one way or the other. All she wanted was to get out of there to someplace safe. She took a few seconds to wonder if she was getting a little too old for this life she’d chosen over finishing out her days on the Supreme Court.

      Jess walked back to the unmarked car, reached in the window, and delivered a bone-crushing slam to the polygamous cop’s face. He felt an unholy satisfaction when he saw blood from a broken nose spurt all over the car. The policeman fell back against the seat. “That,” Jess said, “is for all you damn welfare cheats.”

      Then Jess reached down in his pocket for the key to the Harley and tossed it as far as he could. He dusted his hands dramatically as he made his way back to where the Harley waited.

      Pearl pointed down the road. Off in the distance a motorcycle could be seen traveling fast. Then she saw two more cycles. Jess quickly shot out the tires of his Harley and grabbed the saddlebags with his gear. Putting on a pair of skintight latex gloves, he reached inside the crankcase and did something Pearl couldn’t see, after which he dusted down the Harley’s surfaces.

      The three Harleys ground to a halt. The roar of the idling engines was deafening. Jess motioned for Pearl to climb on the back of the lead bike, while he climbed on the second in the three-vehicle convoy. Engines revved and off they roared, the sound almost more than Pearl could stand, but she hung on for dear life.

      Well, she’d always wanted to feel the wind in her hair and face. While a convertible would have been more to her liking, she accepted what she was given because she was safe—at least for the moment.