Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 111

Ezra

Nothing, and I mean, absolutely nothing could have prepared me for the sight in front of me.

Rage bubbles in my chest, hot and fiery. I push him off Wren so hard, he tumbles into the glass center table.

I'm on Wren immediately, catching her frame before she sags to the floor. She sputters for breath, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Hey, baby." I brush her neck, fingerprints already forming. "You're okay. I'm here."

She trembles. "Ezra—watch out!" Her eyes widen and I turn in time to get smacked in the face by Tristan's fist.

"Fucking hell," I cuss, jaw ticking.

Pushing to my feet, I glare at the bastard. "You know, I started to suspect this. That you weren't dead, because I didn't kill you. Now, I fucking wish I did."

"You really should've." He grins, clenching and unclenching his fists.

I pop my neck. "Walk away now, Tristan. I'm giving you the opportunity to, and don't get me wrong, I'll regret it. Which is why you should take it."

His eyes flicker from me to the door, and then to Wren. I take a step to stand in front of her, obstructing his view.

"Don't look at her," I growl. "I should hurt you for what you've done, but right now, I need to focus on her. So leave, Tristan. I won't be as nice next time."

Wren's still sputtering on the floor. The sound of her hacked breathing, the raggedness, god, it makes me want to punch this prick in the face.

To claw at those scars, reopen them and watch them bleed again. And again. And again.

But right now, Wren needs me. She needs me and I'm going to be there for her.

He lifts his chin in defiance. "I'm not leaving because you asked me to, Ezra Jax. And I will be back."

"I hope you come back. Then, I'll be more prepared to end your pathetic little life."

The shirt in his other fist is bunched up, legs tapping the floor repeatedly.

Fuck! This guy!

I want to throttle him, wring his neck until...A stupid grin stretches across his face as he walks toward the door. "This isn't over." He pauses. "Wren, darling. I still have your—"

With my elbow, I hit him on his ribs. A crack sounds, and he gasps, clutching his side.

My lips curl into a sneer. "The instruction was leave! Not fucking speak!"

"Fuck you," he spits. "I know your family, Ezra. I know where they live, so don't underestimate me."

Cold washes over me. "I don't have any family."

"Ah, I guess little Hannah and Noah are strays. Maybe I'll—"

I slam him against the wall, and press my arm to his throat. "Shut the fuck up, Tristan. Don't make me end you right here and now."

"You won't."

"Try me."

"You cannot kill me. Not now that you know what's at stake, and those that will come after you and yours."

I press harder. "You don't scare me. And neither does your silly little family or gang."

"You should be scared, Ezra. We know your w-weakness, that l-limp in your legs. We know your f-f-family, your secrets...and," he leans in,"–we know about your crazy mom."

"Shut. Up."

"We know the hospital. What if sh-she j-just...disappears?"

His voice is weak, choked from the lack of air entering in his lungs.

I have to give it to them, they've done their research. And that bothers the hell out of me.

I lean close enough. "If you so much as sniff in their direction..." I let the threat hang, eyes hard.

Wren makes a sound from behind me, and I take a giant step away from him. "Leave!"

Confusion floods his face, and I know he's surprised I didn't give in to his taunt and beat the hell out of him.

Luck.

That's the only word. He's just lucky. He has no idea how lucky he is, how much I'm restraining myself from unleashing my wrath.

He shrugs his shirt on, clicks his tongue and saunters out of the house.

Then he pauses, a smirk on his lips. "By the way, you've been ignoring my messages."

I freeze. "Excuse me?"

"You don't think I'll tell Raymond about you and his sister?" He laughs. "Don't underestimate me. I'll have Wren one way or the other, and I'll still send those pictures to Ray."

"You're the anonymous texter."

He grins wide. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Fuck you, Tristan!" I spit, fists clenched. "Fuck you!"

His laughter trails behind him as he walks off, getting into the motorcycle parked at the end of my driveway.

The doer rattles on its hinges when I slam it shut.

Fuck!

Of all people to be the anonymous texter...it's Tristan? The psychopath?

Fuck!

We need to tell Ray tomorrow, unfailingly. Shit!

Wren sits in the same spot, staring wordlessly into space. I pick her up, clutching her trembling body to my chest as I march up the stairs.

I throw the covers over us, and hold her to my chest.

"I'm here baby," I kiss her hair. "I'm so fucking sorry that I came late. I'm so sorry."

She's silent, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

This isn't over, Tristan. He's going to pay for laying a hand on her.

But for now, he better run. And he he better fucking hide.

A drop of water seeps through my clothes, and my chest tightens. She's crying.

A thick lump settles in my throat. I hold her tighter. "I've got you, sweetheart. You're okay."

Donovan had one job! God, when I get my hands on him..."H-he w-was going t-t-to kill me," she sobs, speaking for the first time since I came home.

"He's a dead man walking. I promise you."

"We...he was in this house. He slept in this house."

My muscles stiffen. "What do you mean?"

She shifts a bit, lifting watery eyes to mine. "He has camped in this house to drop my things. He's with the ring."

The ring that's missing from my dresser.

Tristan got into this house with my password at the back of his mind. Someone must've tipped him off, the same person that tipped off Lydia Smith.

"It has to be the mole."

"Would the mole have the home password?"

"It's possible."

She sniffles. "Did you find the mole? Did you—"

"No," I reply. "But if he was able to get into this house without triggering the alarm, then he has the password. And someone, someone close to us, must've given it to him."

"They'd have to be working together."

"Exactly. Whoever it is knows Tristan and the Smitties MC. They tipped their President off, and gave Tristan the password."

A frown lines her face and she sits up, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "But he rang the doorbell."

"What?"

"I thought it was Donovan when I heard the bell ring—"

"Donovan has the password," I say. "He wouldn't ring the doorbell."

"But if Tristan has the password too, why did he ring the doorbell?"

"I don't—"

We hear the front door slam open.

"Ezra!"

My heart drops.

Wren shoots out of bed. "Is that Ray?"

"Yes. Fuck, your brother is here."

We scramble around, and I head out of the room first, jogging down the stairs.

I see him at the foot of the stairs, his jaw tight, eyes hard and glaring.

"Hey, man. Did you find the mole—"

His fist shoots out, punching me straight in the jaw. My head whips to the side, and I stumble back.

I cup my jaw. "Ray, what—"

"What the fuck is this?" He throws his phone at me.

My brows pinch, and when I look at it...all the blood drains from my face.

It's a picture—no, pictures—of Wren...and I.

My stomach hollows out.