Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 71

Ezra

I can't look Ray in the eye after what I've done—what Wren and I have done.

"You're awfully quiet today, EJ," he says, eyes narrowed.

"I'm thinking," I lie. "Reggie and those three hooligans are threatening us. And I'm smart enough to know those aren't empty threats."

It's not a total lie. I am in fact thinking of the men...and Wren.

God, she's my girlfriend.

Finally.

It feels different, like everything is more. My feelings seem more, our intimacy feels deeper.

I can't put it into words, but I'm in love with Wren. Right now, all I need is to get Ray's approval.

"Do we strike before they do?" Ray asks, running a hand through his hair. "Sometimes, I wish Wren still stayed back in Seattle."

"Nothing's gonna happen to her." The words tumble out darker than I expected, jaw tightening at the thought of someone hurting her.

Ray's gaze cuts to mine, a brow raised. "Of course not. Why are you getting worked up?"

My heart stops. "Am I? I didn't realize."

He stands, lips pressed into a thin line as he looms over his office desk. "You didn't realize?"

"Come on man, we're all trying to find a headway. Don't make this look like a big deal. Wren and I are friends now, and even if we weren't, she's your sister, you left her in my care."

"Because I trust you, EJ." He glares. "Can I still trust you not to touch my sister?"

Jaw ticking, I nod. "Yes, you can."

His stare is unblinking, unwavering. And when he finally looks away, I exhale through my nose.

Fuck!

This is proof that Ray will never let Wren date me, he's never going to accept it. It's the second time I've looked him in the eye...and lied.

"Anyway, what do we know about Reggie and those men? Except that they're all Tristan's men?" He settles back in his seat.

"They're all in Smitties MC, and they want revenge."

"But who the fuck killed Tristan?"

That's the big question. I have asked questions, I have checked, but nothing.

"Kendall and Donovan went to Tristan's place in Seattle, no one could give us any answers," I say.

Ray frowns. "Are you sure he didn't bleed out?"

"According to Wren, he was found and rushed to the hospital where they recorded broken bones and lots of blood loss, said he died there. But...it's not just possible, Ray."

"I know."

I blink. "You do?"

"Yes," he replies. "I've seen the men you've beaten up. Granted, you've beaten some to the point of no recognition, but never to death. So I know you didn't kill Tristan."

Ray has no idea how relieving that confession is. At some point I began to question myself. If I really did kill the guy, if I really brought trouble to our doorstep.

"What are we going to do?"

His eyes harden. "We're going to wait. But until then, Quincy and Wren need to have a little extra security since they're not staying at the clubhouse."

"My house is safe for Wren."

"It can never be too safe. The clubhouse has always been considered safe until they set it on fire."

He's got a point. But if I suddenly get bikers around my house, Wren and I will have to pause our relationship.

I wonder what she'll say to all of this.

"Okay," I agree.

It's the least I can do to avoid suspicions. Any argument with Ray about Wren will put me at a disadvantage, one I'm not ready face.

My phone lights up, and when I click on it I have to bite down on my lip to hide my smile.

It's a picture of Wren. She's laying in my bed, dressed in my shirt, and looking bored out of her mind.

The text attached reads: Wen r u cumng hoom!

Then another text drops: hoem*

And I snort. I don't know which is worse, 'hoom' or 'hoem'.

I don't respond to her message, I'd call her once I'm out of Ray's office.

Ray clears his throat, squinting at me. It's then I realise that I'm smiling, my lips literally splitting across my face.

"You seem happy about that text," he says.

Schooling my features, I shrug. "Meh."

Fuck, that's lame.

"You didn't tell me you're seeing someone."

I force out a chuckle. "I'm not seeing someone, Ray."

"So what's got you smiling?"

"I've been...talking–"I nearly choke on my words, "to someone. It's not serious."

"Hm. She must be special, I've never seen you smile over a woman, or even 'talk' to women."

"Yea..." I drawl. "Though, I should head home. Your sister is a walking havoc, wouldn't want her burning my home."

He laughs. "She's something, isn't she? Alright then, tell her to call me."

"I will."

And I hightail it out of there immediately, calling Wren the minute I get into my car.

"Hi baby." Her soft voice fills the car, and my lungs expand, smile widening.

I'm a goner. I'm so fucking gone for this girl.

"Hey, darling." I grin even though she can't see me. "Got your...string of letters. Why do you even bother?"

She chuckles, loud and hearty. "Oh hush. I actually took my time to send that text, you big goof."

"I'm sure you did."

"Are you coming home?"

"Yea," I murmur. "Just left the clubhouse. Your brother said you should call him."

"We spoke yesterday!" She huffs. "He's becoming overbearing."

My lips twitch. "He's your big brother, it's expected."

"He should save that for his baby girl." She tsks, then pauses. "What did you guys conclude concerning Tristan's men?"

A deep sigh leaves my lungs. "We'll talk about it when I get home, okay?"

"Okay."

"What have you been up to?"

"Wellllllll..." she drawls, and I shake my head.

She has probably done something outrageous...again.

"What did you do?" I cave, bracing myself for whatever she's about to say.

"I did some cleaning, I cooked—"

"Baby, no."

"I tasted it this time, I promise."

"Oh god."

"Stop pouting, you're not being nice." She whines. "Plus, it's just some white rice, and chicken broth."

"Not hot sauce?"

"No." She giggles. "No hot sauce."

"I'll be home soon, okay?"

"Alright. I'll be waiting...I–" she hesistates. "I love you."

My heart skips a beat, and my smile can't get any bigger if it tried.

"I love you."

"Ezra?" She calls softly, but there's a hint of worry in her tone.

I frown. "Is everything okay?"

"Quincy called today," she tells me. "She said Ray's been asking questions."

My throat tightens. "What kind of questions?"

She doesn't respond, not immediately. And her hesitation is uncomfortable.

"Ab-About us. She says he's becoming...suspicious."

Fucking hell.