Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 107

Wren

We hear the car pull into the driveway and before I can help Quincy to her feet, the door clicks upon and Ray marches in.

I don't see Ezra behind him.

"Ray, is—"

"Ezra's waiting in the car, Chirp. Help him clean up his wound."

My stomach dips. "Wound?"

He sighs and settles on the sofa beside Quincy. "I'll explain later, but for now, we need to breathe. Go."

"O-okay. Bye guys." I grab my bag and rush out of the house.

Sure enough, Ezra's engine is still purring in the driveway.

"Baby." I slam the door shut. "What hap—"

My eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets when I see his arm. He's shirtless, the white shirt he wore is now soaked in blood and wrapped around his arm.

Bile rises in my throat. "Jesus, Ezra. What is—what the hell happened?"

He gives me a small grin and pulls out of the driveway. "It's not as bad as it looks, I promise."

"Your shirt is soaked."

"I just have a lot of blood. How're you, sweetheart?"

My mouth opens and closes. "I should be asking you. Christ, Ezra...this looks bad. Who did this? The president?"

"Nah." He shakes his head. "AJ did."

I blink. "AJ your brother? Like Ajax Jax?"

"Yup."

"Sh-should you even be driving? Pull over, I'll drive us home."

He snorts. "No way, princess."

"Ezra, baby, come on."

"I drove Kelsie and Donovan to the clubhouse, and still drove Ray home. I'm pretty sure I'm capable of taking us home too."

Tears sting the back of my eyes. "Please. Your arm—"

"Is not as bad as it looks." He looks over when I sniffle. "Hey, sweetheart, I'm fine. I promise you. I'll probably need some stitches, but it's not bad. Doesn't even hurt at all."

His hand twists and he winces.

My lips wobble. "You just said it doesn't hurt at all."

He gives a pained chuckle, sweat beading on his temples. "Okay, it hurts...just a little though."

"Ezra..."

"Look, we're almost home."

We still have a few blocks to go, but I drop it. I knew their idea wasn't going to work, but I didn't expect anyone to get hurt.

At least not like this.

"How big is the wound?" I ask after a few minutes.

"Not big at all," he replies. "It's really tiny, like a scratch."

"What the...Ezra this is not a scratch!" I shriek, eyes wide.

We arrived some seconds ago, and the first thing we did was head up to his bathroom.

His brows draw together. "Really? I swear it looks like a mosquito bite."

I stare at the large, oozing gash on his arm. A deep cut from a very sharp knife.

"Are you really joking right now? This is not the time."

"I'm sorry." He sobers. "I'm trying to take my mind off it."

I sigh. "I know. God, I know."

The bottle of vodka sits on the counter and I hand it to him. "Drink up. You're gonna need it."

He takes a long swig. "I'm so lucky that you have a strong stomach for blood. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I don't like having to clean you up, you know that right?"

"Yea. And I'm sorry that I keep getting hurt. But if it's to protect you, Wren, I'll take a thousand bullets, I'll walk right into the fire—"

"And what if I don't want you to?"

"It's not up to you."

"Really?" I lift a brow. "Then don't stop me if I decide to take a thousand bullets for you too."

"I'd never let you do that. And you know it."

I pour the vodka over his wound and he hisses, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut.

When the sting wears off, he glares. "A little warning would've been nice."

"That's how I'm going to catch you off guard when I walk through fire for you. You'd barely have time to stop me."

He frowns. "I don't like that."

"The same way I don't like you getting hurt for me! I can handle myself."

I clean the areas of his wound with some cotton balls, removing the excess blood. Sweat rolls down my spine.

It's quiet between us while I work. Cleaning, disinfecting and stitching. He grunts and winces occasionally.

When I glance at him, he's sweating profusely, face ashen like he's on the verge of passing out.

"You good?" I murmur softly.

He grunts. "Hurts like a fucking bitch."

"Thought you said it only hurt a little and it was a mosquito bite?"

"Ha. Ha."

A small chuckle breaks from my lips and he huffs out a little laughter. Somehow, that breaks the tension in the air.

I wrap up his arm when I'm done and hand him a bottle of cold water to which he chugs it all down.

"Fuck!" He crumples the bottle.

I stand between his legs and push his damp hair away from his forehead.

Using a warm washcloth, I wipe his face and chest while he wraps his good hand around my waist, and trails down the curve of my hips, ass and legs.

"Thank you," he rasps.

"Mhm." I hum. "What happened out there, Ezra?"

"The president got pissed that I hurt Reggie. And she asked AJ to cut me," he says.

"Did you know AJ was coming?"

He shakes his head. "He texted at the last minute."

"I wish you guys let me come instead of Kelsie. This would not have happened."

"They were going to hurt you if you came, that's what he told me."

"But why did he cut you?" I toss the washcloth into the bath. "He's your brother."

"But they don't know that. And we need their president to trust AJ. The more she trusts him, the more intel we have," he explains then sighs. "He didn't want to cut me. In fact, he warned me of the arm he was going for, but I didn't move out of the way."

"Jeez."

"I didn't expect it to be that sharp and painful though. I regretted it immediately." He chuckles.

"So what now?"

"We have a mole. It's been confirmed."

My stomach rolls. "What? Who?"

"We don't know yet. Someone tipped her off that you weren't in the vehicle, so Ray has called a meeting tomorrow morning at the clubhouse."

"Oh god." I shake my head. "You guys are going to kill whoever it is."

"Damn right."

"But—"

"Don't try to talk me out of it."

I roll my eyes, lips curling down. "That's not what I wanted to say. I'm saying we should postpone telling Ray about us."

He stiffens. "What? Why? We can still tell him after."

"He didn't look good when he came home, Ezra. He looked stressed, haunted...unhappy. Quincy's about to pop, people are after my life, and now you guys have a mole..."

"Baby, we need to tell him. We've held off for months now."

"We'll tell him the next day. Maybe after the mole is caught and there's some level ground?"

He breathes. "I promised you we'd tell him tomorrow."

"You haven't broken your promise. I'm asking that we extend it...only by a day."

"Are you...are you sure, Wren?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he agrees. "But we can't shift it again. It has to be the day after tomorrow."

I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. "It will."