Page 18 of Coyote

Feeling a bit stalkerish, I had already had Hacker do a little research on her, as well as the employer who sheltered her on his property. Her boss was Reginald Archibald, a gay man in his early fifties. His business was Effortless Events. It was a surprisingly robust business because he had been clever enough to diversify. His business model involved an event planning business for wealthy local socialites. They planned everything from charity events for the local hospital to fundraising events for the mayor, and most especially lavish weddings and anniversary shindigs. But the part that really kept them afloat was the store that sold party supplies and rented tables, chairs, and fancy tableware for semi-formal events. It’s like Reginald cornered the market on any and everything related to fancy parties in his neck of the woods.

I guess that made him both clever and benign. Not to mention altruistic when it came to helping Bethany and her daughter by giving her full-time employment and a safe place to call home. Truth be told, I already liked the guy even though we’d never officially met.

I slid my phone back into my pocket and went inside. My all-consuming task for today was to upload the software I bought for my business onto my work computer. It was a fancy program that linked up with the cash register and tracked all sort of important stuff like how much I needed to pay for quarterly taxes to keep the sheriff’s office from paying me a visit. I poured myself a coffee and prepared to get comfortable for a few hours while I tried to wrestle with the new tech. I probably should have asked Hacker for assistance, but I know my club brother would have told me to fuck right off and that the program he’d recommended was fool proof. Maybe it was, but it clearly hadn’t been designed with a fool like me in mind.

Chapter Eight

Bethany

It had been just over a week since Coyote rolled into my office, and I had to admit I was enjoying having him in my life again. We’d met up a couple of times for lunch, ostensibly to go over details for his launch event, but more often than not, we started talking about old times. Or at least old times in general, both of us kept away from the subject of me running off. I know Coyote thought it had something to do with him, and I tried to reassure him that it didn’t, but I couldn’t tell him what really happened. From what he had told me, life in Griffinsford has been relatively peaceful over the past few months, and I think if I told him why I left then that peace may be short lived.

The throaty roar of a motorcycle brought me from my musings.

“Sounds like your boyfriend is here,” Reggie said with a wink.

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, “Shush, we’re just friends.”

“Just friends my ass,” my boss said as he peered through the window. Sure enough, Coyote was sitting there looking delicious straddling his Harley in his leather vest. He was typing out something on his phone and when my cell phone dinged, I took a look.

Wanna ride? said his text.

He caught Reggie and I peeking through the window and held up a spare helmet.

Normally for our lunch dates slash working meals, we went to the sandwich shop over the road or one of the local restaurants. Truth be told, I kind of missed being on the back of his bike—there was something so free about riding into the wind, holding on as his bike hugged the curves.

When I breathed in, even years later, I could bring to mind the scent of his leather vest as I held on tight.

“What did he say?” Reggie asked, curiously.

“He wants me to go for a ride,” I answered as I glanced down at my outfit. I was wearing a loose summer dress today, because my job often involved long hours on my feet or climbing around unpacking boxes, I wore sneakers unless I was meeting a client. I guessed I was dressed okay, it’s not like we’d be racing along the pavement.

“Go!” my boss shooed me towards the door. I looked back over my shoulder, “Go on! And don’t hurry back, I’m okay to hold the fort for a couple of hours.”

“I can’t do that to you, Reggie,” I protested.

“Nonsense, everyone needs to cut loose every so often,”

I didn’t need telling twice, as I grabbed my purse and denim jacket and headed for the door.

“You look good today, Bethany,” Coyote said with an appreciative grin on his face as he caught sight of me walking towards his bike.

“Thank you, you’re looking mighty fine too,” I said hoping that my cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. I don’t know what it was about being with Coyote, but instead of feeling like a single mom with the weight of the world on my shoulders, I was back to being a carefree girl with no worries in the world. Obviously that feeling didn’t last for long and I kept getting overwhelming surges of guilt over the whole Nessa situation. I’d actually had a look at some of the ‘at home’ paternity testing kits available, but two hundred dollars was a huge chunk out of my limited budget. Plus, there was a fear of what the results might bring, I’d seen firsthand the chaos that motorcycle clubs could bring, and I also had an idea of how far-reaching their influence could be. If Coyote was Nessa’s father, then I had no worries about what that could mean for us all—other than the fear that he might not want her or he might be angry at me for keeping her a secret—but if it was the other bastard… I knew outlaw biker gangs had influence in all walks of life, how could I be sure that he couldn’t somehow find out what I’d done and come for my child?

I shuddered.

“You, cold, sweetheart? Wanna wear my vest?” Coyote said, drawing me from my thoughts.

I shook my head, “I’m okay.” My eyes went to his bike, I’d never really considered myself a connoisseur of motorcycles, back when we were together, he’d ridden a beaten up machine, I couldn’t for the life of me remember the make, I think he’d called it a chopper, which is essentially a franken-bike, but I remembered the numb behind I used to get from riding it, by contrast, this Harley looked comfortable. I stated the obvious, “You got a new bike?”

He gave a smirk and smacked the seat playfully, I felt my clit tingle at the motion as I imagined what his hand would feel like on my ass. Our sex life had been pretty adventurous, and while I wasn’t a big fan of pain, I had found it a turn on when he slapped my ass as he thrust inside me, “Yep. The chopper I used to ride was my pride and joy, she might have looked sweet, but the hardtail and ape hangers were a bitch for long rides and I ain’t gettin’ any younger. She bit the dust when I crashed a couple of years ago while chasing some mafia assholes, I got off, but she hit the guardrails and flipped.

“God, Coyote, you could have died!” I exclaimed, as he brought it back to me how dangerous his lifestyle was. This was one of the reasons I’d taken off in the first place.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “Got the reflexes of a cat, felt the skid coming and jumped clear.”

I pursed my lips together, it still sounded dangerous. Not the accident, but the reason why he had an accident. Not wishing to think about it anymore I asked, “So where are we going?”

“Thought we might have a picnic. Callie dropped by earlier and she’d made a batch of empanadas, and it got me thinking.”