Coyote Lee

by Jessie Cooke

  “Wolf,” she said, almost gasping as his fingers found her clit. “You have a condom?”

  He nodded so quickly that they almost knocked heads and then he slid off her so fast that she almost went with him, still with her hand around his cock. He grabbed his jeans and dug in the pocket, presenting a foil packet to her like a gold star. He tore it open with his teeth and Trisha held out her hands. He looked surprised, but he handed it to her. She held it in her left hand, and once again wrapped her right hand around his cock. When she opened her lips, before they even touched him, he moaned. “You ever had your cock sucked, baby?”

  He shook his head again. He looked speechless. She smiled at him and then let her lips slide over the head. “Oh fuck! Oh Jesus! Trisha…fuck…” She sucked softly, licking him as she did. “Oh fuck, you better stop…” She didn’t want him to think she was laughing at him, but he was so damned cute. She pulled her lips off him, bit back the smile, and rolled the condom on. Once she lay back on the bed again, he was instantly on top of her. He didn’t need any instruction about where to put it and as his big cock slid into her hot, sopping-wet pussy, they both moaned. “Oh. My. God,” he breathed out, one word at a time. “You feel so good.”

  She reached back and grabbed his ass cheeks and held on as she lifted her legs up and opened them wide. “So do you, baby.”

  “Really?”

  She did laugh at that. “Really. Move, baby. Slide that big cock in and out of me.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll come too fast.”

  “It’s okay. We’ll do it again.” That made him smile…and move. For the next five minutes the boy gave her the ride of her life.

  They did it again half an hour after that, and then again in the shower in the morning. They had done it several times since. Wolf just showed up at her door when he wanted her. As she knocked on his mother’s door now, she prayed that no one had told Colleen. She wanted to be there for her through her illness…and she didn’t want to be kicked out of the club…and God help her, she didn’t want to lose Wolf.

  19

  Coyote was in a bad mood when they left California, but by the time they got to Boston, “bad” didn’t even cover it. He had spoken to Trisha twice on the three-day ride out, but Colleen was still refusing to speak to him. It pissed him off. In his mind, he had already paid a penance to her for cheating. He confessed. He didn’t try to talk her out of leaving when she was thinking about it. He let her decide if she would forgive him or not…and she said she did. Then, for the next ten years, he’d been as loyal as a fucking dog. What more did she want?

  When they got to the ranch, the place was locked down tight. There were not one but two armed men at the front gates, and another two out in front of the club when they got there. They parked their bikes and were greeted by two of Dax’s prospects and an eight-year-old Cody.

  “Hey! I remember you!” Cody stared up at Coyote with those blue eyes of his that could have belonged to Doc. Coyote was pretty sure that Doc wouldn’t have messed with the likes of Missy…but of course now that he knew Abril died of an overdose, who really knew?

  “I remember you,” Coyote told him as he pulled his sore, aching body off the bike. “How are you, Cody?”

  “I’m good. Dax got me a dirt bike.”

  “Wow, that’s cool. Can you ride it?”

  Cody looked insulted that he would ask. “Yeah…I ride mine even faster than my best friend Jimmie rides his and he’s had his for a whole year.”

  Coyote chuckled. “Good deal, just be careful.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Cody said, already losing interest in him. He ran off toward a little boy that looked like he might be Asian…or black? Coyote wasn’t sure which, and a little girl with dark hair and big brown eyes that settled adoringly on Cody when he reached them. Watching them made Coyote nostalgic for when Wolf was a little guy…and it made him wonder about Sabrina. He didn’t ask Talia what she told the girl about him. He wondered what she thought of him never coming around. More likely than not, she thought that he was the asshole that he knew he was. He shook off those thoughts and took the hand that the young prospect held out to him. He was a tiny little man. Coyote towered over him by about a foot. But his handshake was firm and he looked like he was in good physical shape.

  “I’m Beezy,” the kid said. “I’m honored to meet you.” Coyote laughed. He couldn’t imagine why anyone would be “honored” to meet him. It had to be the patch he wore on his chest, because he couldn’t think of another reason.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Beezy. This is Bruf…Dax is expecting us.”

  He nodded at Bruf. The matching prospect patches they wore didn’t afford Bruf a handshake. Looking back at Coyote he said, “Yes sir. He’s in his office. I’ll take you to him.”

  Coyote and Bruf followed the prospect into the clubhouse. It was filled mostly with women and kids. Dax was even bigger on family than Doc had been, and Dax had a real soft spot for the kids. When they got to the office, Beezy knocked.

  “Come!”

  Beezy opened the door and when Dax saw Coyote, he smiled and stood. “Hey! You made it.”

  “Finally,” Coyote groused. Dax came around the desk and shook his hand and then gave him a hug and grew somber as he said:

  “I’m sorry as hell about your men.”

  Coyote nodded. He knew Dax was, and he didn’t blame him for their deaths. He blamed Hawk. But no matter who was to blame, Coyote couldn’t send any more men over, knowing he was likely sending them to their deaths. “Thanks. This is Bruf.” Dax and Bruf shook hands and they all took a seat. The room was filled with reminders of Doc, and Coyote had to keep his eyes focused on Dax’s face to keep his mind from taking a trip down memory lane, because sometimes it was hard to find his way back.

  “You guys want a drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Bruf said, at the same time Coyote said:

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Dax smiled and picked up the phone. A few seconds later he said:

  “Hey, Callie, can you get one of the prospects to bring us a bottle of whiskey and some glasses? Also check with Celia, I think she was making lunch for these guys. I’m sure they’re starving after their long ride. Oh! Sorry, but have you seen Handsome?” Dax paused for a few seconds and said, “Oh, that’s right. Okay, well, if he makes it back here in the next half hour or so, send him in. Thanks, Callie.” He hung up and said, “Okay, it’ll be in soon. I guess we should get started. My new VP went on a little run this morning. He should be back soon; I’d like you to meet him.” Dax had been the only man the club nominated for president after Doc died. He accepted the job, but for the past three years he’d been so focused on chasing Hawk and then the turf wars with the Sinners that he hadn’t brought the job of VP up for elections.

  “Looking forward to it,” Coyote said. He glanced at the door. He was hoping they would bring the whiskey in and he could have at least one drink before he had to have the conversation.

  “So,” Dax said, “your guys left last week. I’m assuming they all made it home safely?”

  “Yeah,” Coyote said, clearing his throat. “They did, thanks.”

  “And I’m further assuming you’re here to…” The door opened and Beezy entered with a tray bearing a bottle of whiskey, glasses, and what looked like a plate of sandwiches. There were also a couple bottles of water, but the only thing Coyote was interested in was the amber liquid in the bottle. Dax thanked him and offered them both a sandwich. Bruf took one, Coyote declined. Dax took his sweet time about pouring the whiskey and Coyote was ready to snap before he finally picked up one of the glasses and handed it to him. He willed his hand to stay steady as he brought the glass to his lips and then he made himself sip it slowly. It was hard as fuck. He wanted to slam it. “Okay,” Dax said. “Sorry for the interruption.” Coyote wasn’t sorry. He had drunk half his glass of whiskey and had to force himself to put it down. He picked up one of the water bottles and opened it, just to have something else to do wi
th his hands. “I’m going to stop assuming and just let you tell me what you’re here for, Coyote.”

  Coyote cleared his throat and then he put down the water and picked the whiskey back up. Fuck it. He downed what was left in the glass and as it warmed his blood he finally said, “We can’t help you any longer, Dax. I can’t afford to lose any more men.”

  Dax’s blue eyes remained locked into Coyote’s. He wanted to look away. Dax had the exact same intimidating stare that his father always did. Coyote held his gaze, however, and Dax finally spoke. “You know that is not really your decision, right? I mean up to this point, I put it to you like a request out of respect, Coyote…but your club is a chapter of my club, and I’m the president…of all of it.” He not only had his father’s gaze, he had his arrogance as well. Coyote wasn’t surprised by that. Dax had been arrogant since he was a kid. But he was surprised that Dax would pull that rank when men’s lives were involved…his men.

  “So, let me make sure I have this straight,” Coyote said. “You’re pulling rank on me? You’re telling me that my men’s lives are no longer in my hands, they’re in yours?”

  “I’m not trying to be a dick here, Coyote. But I don’t have enough manpower. I let the guys go that you called home…for a break. You can send back the same men, or different ones, but I need them back. I need more, as a matter of fact. Hawk has a virtual fucking army and now I’ve got this Sheriff Zandt and Detective Brady putting together a fucking taskforce…we’re being hit from all angles. I’m surprised that you would even try to pull your support at a time like this.”

  Coyote didn’t ask permission. He reached for the whiskey bottle, refilled his glass, and picked it up and slammed down another shot. Dax still didn’t look away. Clenching his fists in his lap Coyote said, “I am willing to offer you my support…my guidance…but you have to understand…” Dax stood up and Coyote knew that it was go time. Either he stuck to his guns, or he cowed down to a kid that he practically watched slither out of his mama’s belly. He wished he could finish the bottle in front of him before he had to do it, but somehow he found his spine without any more liquid encouragement and he stood up as well.

  “I need ten more men, by next week,” Dax said.

  “You’ll have to find them somewhere else.” Coyote watched the artery pulse in Dax’s neck and then he looked down at the young man’s clenched fists.

  “You understand what you’re doing?” Coyote clearly understood what he was doing. He had, of course, considered the possibility that Dax would pull rank…but somehow, he never believed he would do it. He glanced beside him. Bruf had stood up and he could tell by the young man’s posture…even as a prospect, he was ready to fight for his president, and would probably defend him to his own death. They were all like that, or most of them, anyway. The very least he could do was return the favor. He had to fight for his men, or he couldn’t walk back into that club when he went back to California and expect any respect from any of them.

  “I do,” Coyote said.

  Dax cocked an eyebrow. Coyote didn’t know if it was because he was shocked that Coyote had the spine to stand up to him, or because he thought Coyote was an old fool. Either way it didn’t matter. When he walked out of there today, if Dax let him walk out, he and his club were truly on their own for the first time in twenty years. Dax had continued the financial assistance that Doc had set up before his death and Coyote had slowly bought up more of the land that sat empty around them with it. That would not only have to stop, but the mortgage payments on what he’d bought on credit would have to come from his own coffers one-hundred-percent from there on out. It was going to be rough, he wasn’t fooling himself about that…and God help them if anything happened that would call for backup…because once you thumbed your nose at Dax Marshall…if you lived, he was finished with you, for good.

  “I’ll have Beezy escort you off the property.” Coyote’s eyes caught a photograph on the wall up above Dax’s head. It was black and white. It was Doc, Hawk, and Coyote. They were all so young. It was before Dallas even came on the scene. The nostalgia hit him again, hard.

  “Dax…”

  Dax held up his hand and said, “Unless you’ve decided to change your mind about this foolish decision, we’re done.” Coyote walked out of the room with his head held high and Bruf followed him. Beezy tried to make conversation as they got on their bikes but they both ignored the little man. He led them up to the front gates like they were common criminals and Coyote pointed the bike in the direction of the nearest bar. He had to go back now and tell the rest of their club that they were on their own for the long haul. He knew he was going to face opposition to the decision…but like a father who had to do what was right for his kids against their will, he planned on sticking to his guns.

  20

  It was two and a half days later when Coyote and Bruf made it back as far as Phoenix. They were almost home, but Coyote was ambivalent about getting there. As they rode into the city, his mind went back to the day he met a pregnant Sarah alongside the road near Santa Fe, and then not long afterwards, he met her brand-new baby. Coyote never had a pet as a kid and although he spent years working in labor camps with his parents, he’d never been close to a farm or a ranch. Little Rebekah was the only life he had ever watched come into the world, and he’d never forgotten it. He sent her a card and a present for her birthday every year and he thought of them often. Rebekah was about five years old when he finally told Colleen the story. She convinced him to look up the number and call to check and see how they were doing. He wasn’t even sure that Burke was the right last name, or if Rebekah Burke was still living and Sarah and little Rebekah were still with her, but when the woman who answered the phone heard his name, that quickly changed. “Coyote? This is Sarah’s mother! Oh how I wished I could have met you the day little Beck was born. You saved her, you saved my Sarah. Thank you! Thank you so much!”

  The senior Rebekah had kept him on the line for a good fifteen minutes, bragging about her granddaughter, and her daughter. She seemed like a doting mother and grandmother and for some reason, it made Coyote rest easier to know that Sarah and her baby had such good support. Eventually, Sarah’s mother put her on the phone and Sarah profusely thanked Coyote for all the gifts, and she told him about their life. Sarah was in college still, working on her master’s degree, and they still lived with her mother. Her grandfather had passed on and her mother had a large house, so they would probably stay there, at least for a while. Sarah also gushed about her baby girl. From what she and her mother told him, the little girl sounded smart and beautiful and a little bit headstrong. Coyote thought that was good. A woman should have a mind of her own. He knew men too well, and he knew that it was a man’s world, so women had to at least know how to stand up for themselves. He spoke to Sarah once more when Beck was twelve. Sarah wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as she had been before about being a mother. Apparently, Beck was a difficult preteen, but Sarah said that was probably thanks to the fact that she had remarried just a year earlier. She was working as a journalist in Phoenix at that time and she met her husband at work. They still lived in the family home then, but little Rebekah would be twenty-three years old now, so he doubted that she was still at home. Still, he was curious, not to mention dragging his feet about getting home.

  He motioned to Bruf before pulling off the road just outside of Phoenix. Once he was parked, he took out his phone and called information. Life sure was easier since cell phones, that is, since he learned how to use his. He got the number for Sarah’s mother and pressed it into his phone. It was answered on the first ring, but by a man. Coyote almost hung up, but after a long pause and the man saying “hello” twice, he said:

  “Hi. I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Xander Lee…”

  “Coyote?”

  Coyote frowned. “Yes, you are?”

  “Seth Traynor. I’m Sarah’s husband.”

  “Oh, okay.” He was sure Sarah told him her husband’s name last time t
hey talked, but he didn’t remember it. He must not have been paying attention because names were usually easy for him. He was glad to know it had worked out; it was new the last time they talked. “How are you, Seth?”

  “I’m great,” he said. “Good to hear from you. You’re like a legend around here. Let me get Sarah for you.” Coyote could hear him calling to her in the background. Finally, she came on the line.

  “Coyote! I’m so glad you called. I was just thinking about you the other day.”

  “How are you, and the kid, and Mom?”

  She laughed. “Well, ‘the kid’ is in the Navy and my mother ran off and got married to a retired preacher. They’re traveling the world.”

  “I’ll be damned. Good for your mom, and Rebekah. The Navy, huh?”

  “Yep. She’s been in for five years now. She’s slated to leave for officer training in a week. She’s been home for a few days now, which has been great. I haven’t seen her in almost a year.”

  “Well, that’s great. I know I don’t have a right to be, but I’m proud of her. I’ll bet her daddy is up there smiling down on her too.”

  “I’ll bet you’re right,” she said. “She’s a good girl. She’s still stubborn as a mule and kind of moody…but that’s just Beck. How are things with you, Coyote?” He thought about finding out about Colleen’s illness, finding out about Sabrina and cutting ties with the Southside Skulls, and then he said:

  “They’re great. I was running through Phoenix, thought I might stop by and meet the new old man…but it sounds like you have a full plate with the kid home…”