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Chapter 5: Connecting

The car skidded to a halt, throwing up a cloud of dirt and loose gravel. Warren got out as the engine stopped and cut the hip hop song mid-obscenity.

He and Jack carted armloads of their purchases into the farmhouse. Mostly food and some things from the hardware department bought at a big box store. The thing that stuck out the most was a long handled fishing net.

Warren juggled a twelve pack of beer and an overloaded shopping bag of beef jerky while opening the door.

Kevin looked up from the kitchen table. "What took so long?"

"Didn't want to shop in town." Warren dropped the bag on the table. He watched Kevin greedily rummage through it. "Talbot might be looking for anything suspicious."

Jack started unpacking his load.

"Noel still watching Lester?" Warren asked.

"Nope," said Kevin.

Jack and Warren exchanged worried looks.

Kevin ripped open a bag of spicy jerky.

Warren watched his cousin and tried to keep his annoyance in check. "Where is he?"

He saw Jack subconsciously feel for his gun tucked under his shirt.

Before Kevin finished his mouthful, the back door opened again and the chubby wolverine walked in. "Hey guys."

Warren sighed. Although he hide it well, he was deeply concerned his plan could fall apart in any number of ways.

Noel saw the food. "Yes!" He started looking through the bags.

"Your stuff's over there," he pointed to a separate bag holding nonperishable vegetarian food. Warren was far from being a traditionalist, but a vegetarian wolverine just struck him as odd.

"Thanks for remembering," said Noel.

Jack snorted derisively.

Warren pulled out a roll of duct tape and a smaller bag. "Here," he passed Kevin the smaller package. "Will these work?"

Kevin put down his jerky and took a canister of waterproof caulking and a utilitarian looking hunting knife from the bag. He gave them a once over and nodded. "I'll get set up at sundown."

Warren pushed down impulses of protectiveness. He hated the idea of Kevin being the one to pick up the money during the drop, but that wolf was practically raised in the bush. Even if the plan went to hell, Kev could disappear without a trace in the backwoods.

Warren unwrapped the duct tape and said, "I guess I'll go check our hostage. He's probably hungry." Kevin and Noel stared at him. "What?"

Noel gave a sheepish look. "He's been saying a lot of crazy things. So don't trust anything-"

Kevin interrupted. "I fucked him."

Jack burst out laughing.

"Don't encourage him, Jack," Warren admonished. "You didn't... hurt him or anything?"

"Nope." He resumed gorging on the jerky. "But you should loosen the ropes. He was bitching that his hands were numb."

Jack could barely compose himself. "Do you want me to come along for backup, boss?"

"No. I'll be fine. Just eat and relax. You can keep watch after lunch. I'll watch him over night." Warren took the duct tape, a cola and a can of spam from the table."Kev, do you have that kitchen knife?"

Kevin nodded and passed the rusty blade to Warren.

It was fortunate they found the knife. Aside from Jack bringing his handgun, Warren insisted no one bring weapons. There was a big difference between robbery and murder. Not that he'd considered a kidnapping when his original master plan was conceived.

Upstairs, he knocked once and opened the door to the hostage room. Lester was completely naked, his legs splayed obscenely over the sides of the bed and his flaccid cock pointing at his belly button.

"Warren!"

Warren was speechless. He should have expected this.

"Thank God! Tell me you brought me food!" Lester pulled at his restraints.

"Yeah. Got food." He walked to Lester's side. "I'm going to untie you. Don't try anything stupid, alright?"

Lester promised as Warren cut the ropes. He doubted the coyote would make a move, but hostage taking was new to him. Who could say what would happen.

"Fuck, Warren. I can't feel my hands," Lester said as propped himself up.

"Blame your father. You could have been out of here in two hours if he didn't want to take his time getting my money." He sat on the chair next to the bed and picked up the can of cola he brought for Lester.

Lester looked at the proffered can. "This probably isn't the best time to mention it, but I really need to pee."

Warren sighed. "Of course." He half pushed, half supported the wobbly legged hostage down the hall. Once Lester found his footing he began to practically strut, not at all phased by his nakedness.

Not that the view wasn't enjoyable to Warren, but the sight of dried cum matting the coyote's backside was a nagging reminder that someone had to be the responsible one if this string of multiple felonies were to have a happy ending.

They reached the upstairs bathroom. It matched the rest of the house in terms of dilapidation. Lester made a disgusted sound.

Warren braced the door open when Lester turned to shut it. "This stays open."

Lester smiled. "I guess you like to watch. Cool."

Warren narrowed his eyes. It seemed the only time Lester took the situation seriously was when he had a gun pressed to his head.

Lester glanced over his shoulder. "My hands feel like a pincushion. Do you want help me aim?"

"Yeah, I'd hate for you to mess up this beautiful bathroom," he said sarcastically and motioned at the rust and mildew coated facilities. "Just piss."

Lester laughed and began urinating. He had no sense of stage fright Warren concluded with a bemused shake of his head.

They returned to the room. Lester sat cross-legged on the bed frame, using the pillow as a cushion. Warren had to open the spam and cola as Lester bitched about his hands still being useless.

Lester bit into a piece of spam and made a retching noise. "You already got, what, fifty thousand? You could have at least brought me something edible."

"I could have just left you tied and hungry for two days," Warren shot back.

Lester shrugged. "Point taken." He swallowed another bite and sucked his fingers. "How did you know where I'd be last night?"

Warren rocked back in his chair and locked his hands behind his head. "Tell you what. I'll tell you if you answer me a question first. And I want complete honesty. No bullshit."

Warren watched Lester as he tried to figure out what he would want to know, then shrugged and said, "deal."

Warren rocked forward, slamming the two front legs of his chair against the hard floor. "Why were you stealing from Talbot?"

Lester looked down at his can of spam. "I, honestly, need the money."

The wolf gave a mirthless laugh. "I said, no bullshit."

"Really," Lester looked up.

"For what?" Warren asked.

Lester looked back into his can of spam. His ears flattened against his skull. "I owe some seriously bad people a lot of money."

Warren leaned forward but didn't speak. He let the silence compel Lester into getting it off his chest.

"It started simple. I'd been playing cards since high school. I was good. Real good. But you know how it goes." He scooped out a small piece of meat and slipped it in his mouth. "If I lost a few grand here or there, fuck it. I have an allowance. Dad even covered my losses willingly a couple of times. But that always came with a lecture."

Warren helped himself to a drink from the cola he brought lester. He thought he knew where the story was going, but like watching a train crash, even knowing the outcome doesn't mean you look away.

"It's like... cocaine, I guess. I got this rush from playing in a high-stakes game. But it's not like I could travel halfway across the country to play all the time.And dad would cut off my money if I moved." Lester sighed and took a drink from the can.

"Well, you can guess the kind of connections I've got. It wasn't hard to get into backroom, no limit games in the city. Long story short, I'm on a hell of a losing streak."

Warren nodded sympathetically. "And Talbot wouldn't bail you out this time?"

Lester shook his head.

"How much are you on the hook for?"

The coyote's head jerked up. "One hundred and forty large."

"Fuckin' hell!" That was stunning. "How?" was all he could spit out.

Lester's shoulders slumped. "It used to be around fifty thousand... but I couldn't make the kind of payments they were asking for. Fucking interest." The coyote's eyes were getting glassy. "This morning, around nine, I was supposed to meet a guy at this diner. They said if I didn't start coughing up some serious money... they were going to start cutting off my fingers." He looked at his hands.

Warren leaned his chair back again. "That..." What could he say? "That is some fucked up shit."

He watched Lester eat in silence. After a time Lester looked at Warren and asked, "So, how did you know I was there last night?"

Warren gave a crooked smile. "You won't believe it, but that was just bad luck. I just came to rob the place. It was supposed to be in and out, and we'd all have a nice chunk of money for a new start."

"That would figure," Lester said.

It would indeed, Warren thought to himself. There were now two groups of very dangerous, very angry furs out looking for Lester. Could bad luck be contagious? But Lester had apparently been on his losing streak for quite a while. Maybe it was more like a black hole, sucking unfortunates like he and Lester into a singularity of crap.

By the time he finished the spam, Warren could see Lester was back to his old self. They even managed to find a little humor in their situation.

Warren looked at the duct tape he brought with him. Jack would be here soon and he'd probably want the coyote securely bound. But Warren just couldn't bring himself to do that the Lester, yet. Lester must have seen him eyeing it.

"Tape? Do you know how painful that can be to get off? I still have some of that glue in my fur from the last time someone taped me to a bed," he said.

Warren wasn't sure how much of that was a joke. "Well, Ja-," he caught himself before he reviled the name. He and his co conspirators were going to need to disappear after this was over anyways, but why make the search any easier by name dropping? "The goat will guard you 'til nightfall. It'll be up to him. But if you promise not to try anything, I could suggest he hold off on it."

"Warren, do I look like I'm planning to run?" He motioned to his naked crotch.

Warren laughed.

"And another thing," Lester added, "I know you and Noel. What do I call the goat? And that other wolf? I mean, I might be a bit of a slut, but I make it a point to at least know the first name of whoever's fucking me."

"Sure you do," Warren laughed. "You can ask them. But if they say no, drop it. Otherwise, the gag goes back in."

Lester smiled, then turned more serious. "Um..." he hesitated. "Could you, maybe, tell the goat... not to shoot me?"

"He knows not to. But, yeah. He does wave his gun around a lot. Fucker'll probably shoot himself one of these times."

"Heh. I blame that rock music he listens to," Lester said.

The sounds of creaking boards and footsteps ended their conversation.

***

Chapter 6: Fronting

Lester stiffened his back as the sounds of the approaching fur drew nearer. The goat scared him. It was probably all the unknown factors involved. Warren, Lester could deal with. He was rational and liked to keep things well ordered. Under any other circumstances, Lester might even pursue a relationship the wolf. How he had missed that while the were coworkers was a mystery to Lester. Probably because Lester needed to get stoned to make it through a day of work.

And Noel, he was a pussy. Given enough time, Lester was sure he could have seduced him into not only letting him go, but giving up the money they'd already stolen. Pity, that boat had sailed. Escape was not the safest route anymore.

Even the quiet wolf, Lester was convinced he was a relative of Warren's, his first impression was of a self serving, oversexed, punk with sadistic tendencies. So no different than half the furs Lester dated. His first impressions were rarely wrong.

The goat entered the room. "'Sup boss," he nodded to Warren.

"You two behave now," Warren stood.

Lester resisted the urge to grab the big wolfs arm and ask him to stay. "Wait. You said I could..." He motioned to the goat.

"Oh, right," Warren turned to the goat. "Lester wants to know what he should call you. I don't know if you want to give him your real name, or what."

The goat gave a dismissive gesture. "Man, I don't give a fuck. They call me Jack, on the streets. Bitches know me as Horny," he cocked his head to the side and stroked one of his curved horns

Warren coughed to stifle a laugh. "Right. I will get some shuteye. I left some tape by the chair, if he misbehaves, feel free to use it."

Jack strolled up to the bed frame. "Guess you're gonna call me Horny."

Lester looked to Warren. He wasn't sure if he should be scared or laughing. Right now, he was a little perplexed.

Warren rolled his eyes. "That reminds me, I need to borrow your gun."

Jack spun away from Lester. "Wuh? Why? I gotta watch him."

"You don't need a gun for that. Look at him," he gestured to the naked coyote.

Lester did his best to look harmless, pulling his knees up to his chest and giving his impression of puppydog eyes.

Reluctantly, Jack passed his piece to Warren.

When the wolf closed the door Jack looked at Lester. Some of the bravado was gone, but Lester had no illusions about being a fighter. And again, now that he missed his morning payment, there were people looking to do worse things than ransom him.

For a time Jack was content to sit in the chair and watch Lester. Lester couldn't find the nerve to make smalltalk even though the silence was starting to wear on him.

"Fuck, this is boring," Jack shouted to the ceiling.

Lester was startled by the sudden outburst. He didn't say anything but watch from the corner of his eye as Jack brought a deck of cards out of pocket. The sound of the goat casually shuffling the deck was like a siren's call. He decided to chance it.

"So, uh... you play cards?" he asked.

Jack looked at him. "Yeah. You?"

Lester shrugged. "A little. But I'm not that good," he lied.

Jack stroked his goatee. "Too bad you don't have any money."

"We could play for fun," Lester offered with a smile.

"Forget that. I only play when somethin's on the line."

Lester knew that reasoning intimately well. "Have you ever played for blow jobs?"

"The fuck would I want you to give me a blow, fag?"

Lester thought he saw a hint of curiosity behind the look of disgust. "I'd say we could start off with some strippoker, but I guess I've already lost."

Jack gave a short chuckle.

"Wait," inspiration struck the coyote. "My pants are worth three fifty and I got my shoes for around four hundred."

"Do I look like a pawn shop, Les?"

Lester winced. He hated when people called him Les.

Jack looked at the clothes and continued, "besides, shit's too small for me."

"Give me five hundred. I'll win it back and then we'll be playing for cash."

"Hah! No way you'd win five hundred off me," Jack laughed.

Lester sighed. "Oh well. If you're too scared I might win..."

"Fine. Only because I'm bored as hell. I'll give you two hundred for your threads."

Lester tried to feigned disappointment, but any chance to break this boredom was welcome. Plus, this could be fun.

Jack took out a roll of hundred notes. He peeled off two and looked over the pants and shoes Lester handed him. "You paid way too much for this crap," he said.

Lester ignored that. "I think I saw a table downstairs when you brought me in, shall we?"

"You think I'm an idiot?"

Yes. "No."

"We'll play here."

It was almost to easy for Lester. An hour in and Jack had to take out a second roll of hundreds. Lester didn't bother to count the money. He knew Jack wouldn't let him keep any winnings, but that was irrelevant. Lester was playing for enjoyment. He loved the frustration he could cause, constantly keeping the goat off balance by making a series of bad bets followed by a larger winning bet to regain his losses and then some.

Jack was starting to fume. Lester watched an abridgment of his own emotional trials from the past year. Always winning but never managing to break even. The fact he cheated when he dealt to the goat made him wonder how much of the shit he was in was due to the disreputable furs he played with.

That thought made him angry too. But unlike Jack, Lester could keep his rage behind a carefully cultivated neutral expression. But the effects of his own anger were harder to conceal on his actions. He was getting more reckless, going all-in on more hands than he should have.

Jack began swearing when he undid his fourth roll of cash. When Lester dealt himself his third straight royal flush Jack reach a boiling point.

"You cheating mutha-fucker!"

A hand of cards hit Lester in the face, who was only half paying attention to the game at this point. "Wha-" A fist connected with his muzzle. He didn't remember hitting the floor but when he opened his eyes the world was on its side and he tasted blood.

Jack was just getting to his feet, so Lester knew he hadn't been out for more than a second. As he reached one arm between his legs and the other over his head, to protect his vital parts, he suddenly wished he was clothed.

He braced for a volley of kicks, and the analytical part of his brain began recalculating his chances of surviving. When the kicks didn't come and he heard the goat exhale, he chanced a peek from under his arm.

Jack was looking down at him. "You're not worth it," the goat stomped over to the chair. "Pick up my fuckin' money."

Lester got up on his knees and started collecting the scattered bills. Part of him wished he had satisfying outlet for his pent up frustrations. It must have been satisfying to do the hitting rather than be the one getting hit. He chanced another look at Jack. He was tugging on his goatee and staring at the boarded window. He did not look as satisfied as Lester would have guessed.

Lester probed the inside of his mouth while he picked up the last bill. The bleeding stopped and he couldn't find any broken teeth. He looked at Jack for a clue what he was supposed to do now, but the goat was still lost in his own thoughts.

Lester gripped the stack of money in his jaws and slowly crawled towards Jack.

Jack turned to the kneeling coyote. "What are you doing?"

Lester leaned back on his haunches and spoke unintelligibly around the bills in his mouth.

Jack rolled his eyes and took the money from Lester's mouth.

"I said, I'm trying to say sorry," Lester said. He watched Jack try to process what he meant. Apparently he was not expecting that.

"Yeah... well, I'm still kinda pissed. I mean if we weren't holding you for ransom, that's the kinda shit that'd get you shot."

Lester put on a look of remorse that he did not really feel. "I know. I'm really sorry... but I think I can make it up to you."

Jack cocked an eyebrow. "How?"

Lester shrugged. "I've been told I give a fantastic blow job."

"I'm not really..."

"It doesn't matter," Lester had dealt with Jack's kind before. "Just close your eyes and pretend I'm a bitch."

Lester slowly made his way closer to Jack. It had been his experience that it was hard to be mad at someone who was sucking your dick. If there was anyone who posed the greatest threat to his life right now, it was Jack. Best not to leave him pissed off.

He slid his hands over the goats thighs and stared up at him. "May I?"

Jack's breathing was a little faster. He hesitated, "yeah."

Lester undid the goat's pants. He wasn't hard yet, so Lester fondled.

"Y-you have really soft hands," Jack commented.

"Thank you. I do like to moisturize my paws," Lester smiled. Jack was nervous and it gave him a warm feeling to gain a slight edge over the goat.

Once Jack was at attention Lester ran his tongue along its sensitive underside, eliciting a shiver from Jack. "You're so big," Lester lied.

"That's what they tell me."

Lester licked it a few more times until he caught the taste of pre cum. He then took the whole of Jack's cock in his mouth. He took full advantage of his long coyote muzzle and kept his tongue stroking the length of the shaft while keeping a tight suction on the cock.

"Fuck," Jack moaned.

Lester felt his own stirrings. This wouldn't be the release he wanted, but Lester had learned to take a certain enjoyment in his ability to bring pleasure to others.

Lester felt the goat take hold of his ears. It hurt some, but for Lester the line between pain and pleasure was fuzzy at best. He sucked harder as he felt the telltale throb of an impending climax. Jack started jerking Lester's head up and down like a piston. Plenty of practice taught Lester when to grab breaths of air. No matter how rough Jack pumped him, he was still able to appreciate the tastes and tactile sensations.

It was little power trip, Lester thought, giving someone an orgasm. Sooner than he hoped Jack's load flooded his mouth. Warm and comforting. For that brief moment Jack's entire being was racked with pure joy. All created by Lester. Like a fleeting work of art.

Lester sat back and wiped his mouth. This might not be the level of satisfaction Jack felt when he threw that punch, but under the circumstances Lester felt pretty good.