Bit pulled to a stop about five yards from the bikes. Closer than I was actually comfortable with, but who was I to argue. I just wanted to wrap up in that warm quilt and fall off in to lala land. Tracker called, “Where have you guys been? We’ve been travellin’ solo for hours, now you decide show up? Man, we got communication issues.”

The tall blonde girl walked a few steps forward and tilted her head so that she seemed to be looking right at me. But surely she wasn’t, I mean the glare of the sun on the windshield would deflect a clear view, I think. Okay, I was absolutely paranoid. Close your eyes, I told myself. So I did. For about 10 seconds.

Tracker thumped the top of the squad car. The blond spoke with a Russian accent, “We were held up at the border. Southside. Papers. You know, the drill.” Strange that she spoke of the Southside with that accent, man she was hot. Stop it. I opened my eyes. She smiled. Crap. She was looking at me.

The other three started walking toward the car. Bit got out.