Page 35 of A Handsome Devil

We bumped fists while declaring, “Econo Lodge, Barstow.”

Erin added, “I’ll get this to Jack Hoffman right away.”

Truman agreed to let me drive the Charger in order to even out the power struggle. It was too bad I couldn’t speed. Back in the day I used to enjoy racing my friends. Truman looked at his phone to see that Jack Hoffman’s post about the Will -o’-the-Wisp bandit was now at 73k likes. He purred, licking and sucking on my earlobe, causing me to veer into oncoming traffic.

“Whoa,” I said, though I didn’t really want him to stop. “Now remember. We’re not murdering Les Moore. We just want the name of the tranq supplier.”

I was pleasantly surprised when Truman said, “But yeah, rob him blind and take all his drugs.”

“Oh, that too. After we get the name.”

As we left town and I reached the 70-speed limit, Truman melted back in his seat. I couldn’t see his eyes due to his shades, but his luscious lips curled into a satisfied grin. “We can’t keep doing this forever, you know.”

“I know. I can never be Alessio Messina again, but I can start a new band wherever we wind up. Just go undercover.” I liked that idea. It was the most dramatic of all our ideas.

Tongue sticking from the corner of his mouth, Truman was scrolling. “Wow. Listen to these comments. ‘These guys are the true heroes.’ ‘Makes being an outlaw seem so glamorous. They must be staying in the swankest hotels.’ ‘Don’t anyone dare turn them in!’”

I had to chuckle at that. “We’re crashing in creeks and barns, and they’re thinking swank hotels.”

“Don’t dissuade them of that idea. And if it comes down to a shootout, let’s do the sane thing. Run.”

I had to agree. As much of a recovering addict as I was, I’d never really gotten much into guns. There was lots of steel in my house thanks to the dodgy people staying there. But I never got one ‘til I broke Denmark out of prison.

When we found Les Moore’s Econo Lodge, we sent Erin in to inquire. A lush Australian Hindu, she could talk the stuffing out of anyone. We clustered in front of a liquor store a block away, probably all wishing we could go inside and buy cigarettes. That’s how nervous we were. This was going to be the turning point for the Undisputed Truth Club.

And as Gunning scrolled, we realized it might come sooner than expected.

He frowned. “There are some assholes on here. Sounds like they’re banding up to find us. Like it’s some kind of a test, a contest. Who can find us the fastest?”

Truman gaped. “They want to turn us in?”

“Why?” Denmark added.

“Just to be assholes, sounds like! You know how these idiotic viral things get started. Like the ice bucket challenge.”

“No Nut November,” I said, referring to the challenge to go a month without jacking off.

Truman said, “Sunburn art.”

Denmark quipped, “Nyquil chicken.”

We all paused. I finally asked, “Seriously?”

“You don’t remember that? You drenched raw chicken in Nyquil and boiled it. Made the medication even stronger.”

“Well,” said Gunning. “Looks like Jack Hoffman plans to delete comments like that. But it won’t stop them from doing it.”

Erin returned, fairly cooing with her sexy success at finding Les Moore.

“He’s playing basketball at a high school nearby. He plays every day with his cohorts.”

I nodded. “Erin, why don’t you see if you can get the motel guy to let you into his room. See what you can find about his source. The rest of us, let’s all pile into the Charger so no one’s tipped off by the bikes.”

“Or the trans flag,” said Truman.

“Hey!” protested Denmark, his voice muffled by his balaclava. “I was assigned female at birth.”

Truman was the only one with balls to convince Denmark to be more undercover. “Yeah. But it’s just one more thing these trolls can use to track us down.”