Falling For The Biker: The Vice President's Girl Chapter 16

Ezra

The car ride back is gruesome, and I can feel the irritation rolling off Wren in waves. My lips twitch.

"I think if I start walking back, I'll get there before you do," she grumbles, pink lips in a pout.

I don't have it in me to respond. I'm busy managing the throbbing pain in my leg.

"Just let me drive, Ezra," she snaps, spinning to face me. "What is your problem? You're obviously in pain, yet you want to keep torturing yourself...and me with this snail pace."

I give her a brief look. "I can't let you drive, Wren."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't trust your driving," I reply. "Hell, I don't know when or how you got your license."

She slaps a palm on her face. "Then let me prove my driving to you!"

"No, thanks."

"At this rate, we'll probably arrive in two months."

A chuckle actually falls from my lips at that. "You're very impatient—"

"Of course I am," she bites back. "Let me drive, Ezra. Stop the goddamn car."

"Birdie..."

"I'm not playing around, Ezra. Either you hit the gas, or you pull the fuck over."

I scoff. "I'm not doing either. Damn, birdie, you saw me in pain."

"Exactly, Ezra. You limped all the way to the car and now you can't even drive," she hisses. "What you need is to take a fucking break."

My teeth clamp down on my lip. "Do you know you cuss a lot when you're mad?"

"No, I didn't. Thanks for pointing that out." She rolls her eyes so hard I fear they'd get stuck. "Smart ass."

I laugh, I can't help it. And it pisses her off some more.

"God, I hate you," she huffs, tearing into another pack of sweets.

"I hate you too," I reply.

Her response is stuffing the lollipop in her mouth. The red colour stains her lips almost immediately, and I face the road.

"Can I have one?" I ask, sparing a glance at her just in time to see her lips wrap round the lollipop like it's a fucking cock.

My jaw tightens at the dirty thoughts that flood my brain, especially the memory of Wren watching me last night.

"No." Her voice cuts into my thoughts. "Your condom is flavored, I can hand you that."

I snort. "Thanks, but they're for Brittany. She'll love it."

"Of all the women in the clubhouse, you chose Brittany?" She shakes her head in disappointment, tutting. "You have poor taste in women."

"I thought you were best friends."

"The keyword being 'were', Ezra."

A brow lifts. "Wanna tell me what happened? You used to be close."

It's true, they were inseparable. Everywhere you see Wren, Brittany was there. Until everything stopped.

"Yea, we used to be." She smacks her lips.

"I heard there was a massive argument between both of you, unfortunately no one could tell what it was about."

She gives me a look, flicking the lollipop out of her mouth. "Don't you think there's a reason for that?"

I pause, eyes momentarily locked on the redness of her lips.

Clearing my throat, I respond. "I'm sure if Ray and I were around that day, we'd figure it out."

"Mhm."

That hum was very sarcastic, followed by her look of irritation.

"Come to think of it—" I frown, "...after that argument, you left for Seattle two weeks after. Was that what prompted your leaving?"

She chews on the sweet, the crack sounding in the car. Then, she scowls. "You've been driving for nearly twenty minutes, and we haven't even reached the intersection. How about you shut up...and drive."

"Yes ma'am." I laugh.

The pain in my leg eases up a bit, so I press on the gas. The relief on Wren's face is instant.

"At least we're getting home today," she murmurs, leaning back with a sigh. "So, who's getting punished, and why?"

My eyes narrow at her.

I tsk. "Like I said at the house, Birdie, it's confidential. Asking about it in the car doesn't change my response."

She huffs.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, loud music thrums through the speakers, vibrating in my chest. The scent of grilling steak fills the air, making my stomach rumble.

Loud chatters fill the yard, bodies dancing up against each other, some already with familiar red cups.

"Yo, VP!"

I swivel to find Donovan, one of our new recruits. I give him a nod, swinging the club in my hand.

"Ricky's under the weather, said he can't make it for the barbecue," he informs.

Swiping my tongue across my upper teeth, I slap the club in my palm. "I see. Make a list of all others who aren't here."

"Is he..." Donovan hesitates. "Is he going to get punished?"

My eyes narrow. "Are you here to ask me questions, or follow instructions?"

"Follow instructions."

"Good. Now, go make a fucking list." I size him up until he scurries away.

Fucking newbies.

"EJ!" Torch and Clay jog up to me. "Prez is ready."

My lips stretch into a wide grin across my face. I swing the club in my hands, and march through the back door into the clubhouse.

Ray is in his office with Kendall, who kneels on the floor with his hands pressed together, pleading.

His eyes widen when he sees me, flickering to the club in my hands.

"EJ, come on," Kendall begs. "I swear I didn't mean it."

Ray nods at me. "Tell us, Kendall, the conversation between you and Lurk from Guillion MC."

I step closer, and he scrambles away from me. Torch and Clay hold him.

"P-please, it w-was a mistake." The fear in his eyes sends a thrill up my spine. It's exhilarating.

I slap the heavy club on my palm. "Tell us the goddamn conversation, you snitch."

"Oh god," he moans, face contorted. Sweat rolls down his neck as he trembles. "I-I-he asked ab-about Wren. All I said was that sh-she stays in the clubhouse t-too. Please, please Prez."

His words barely land when Ray strikes him across the face, a crack echoes. Blood seeps out from his nose, and he whimpers.

"I'm s-sorry," Kendall cries, struggling in Torch and Clay's grip. "It won't happen again."

"Of course it won't, EJ will make sure of that." Ray flexes his knuckles, and wipes it on a napkin. "Don't worry, he's not going to kill you. He'll only teach you what happens to snitches."

With that, Ray turns to me. "I'm heading home, Quincy just texted."

"Alright, go on. I'll keep an eye out on things here."

He pats my shoulder and leaves.

Kendall gulps when I turn on him.

"Earlier today, someone asked if this club would be the barbecue meat." I laugh at the memory. "She was being sarcastic, of course. But do you know what I told her?"

He shakes his head rapidly.

"I told her it's a punishment tool, especially for people like you," I sneer, pressing the club in his broken nose.

He screams.

"Shut the fuck up!" I snap, squeezing his jaw. His tears mix with blood, and he babbles incoherently.

My jaw flexes. "Snitches get stitches. In this case, I'm gonna rip you apart then send you to Mrs Dee for your stitches."

I give a nod to Torch and Clay. They tackle him to the ground on his belly. Kendall screams, begging, but they all fall on deaf ears.

"There are things we don't just tolerate. And at the fucking top of that list is messing with Ray's sister," I inform him.

He's so fucking stupid. Of all people to mess with, he messed with Wren.

"If anything happens to Wren, Kendall...you can run and hide all you want, but I will find you, and you will beg for death."

The club slams down on his back, a satisfying crack sounds.

Kendall howls, struggling against Torch and Clay's grip.

Thoughts of Wren being attacked fill my vision, an unbridled heat of rage crawls up my skin and I slam the club down harder.

His cries are drowned out by the rushing in my ears, and the violent pumping of my heart.

I don't know how long I hit him, but eventually, I stop. He's passed out.

The club falls from my hands with a loud 'clank'. I

pant, sweaty and bloody. "Get him to—"

The sudden sound of gunshots has me freezing.

Someone barges in. "VP! We're under attack!"

My thoughts immediately drift to Wren, and I'm running out of there into the chaos at the yard.

Where the fuck is Wren?!