Perceive by K E Osborn

 

 

AXEL

 

“Fucking hell,” Rubble curses, slamming another couple of twenties onto the edge of the pool table. “Lost her memory, you say? Seems like her ability to hustle me out of my money is just as alive and well as it always was.”

Kenzi grins, picking up the money and tucking it into her back pocket before patting her opponent on the back. “Next time.”

Rubble’s deep-toned laughter fills the space, the old man shaking his head. “I think next time, I’ll challenge ol’ Ruin to a game. Least then I know I’ll make my money back.”

Ruin scoffs, snatching the pool stick from Rubble and rolling his eyes. “You say that like I’m bad at everything.”

Rubble doesn’t answer, his laughter just growing louder as he heads across the room to the bar.

Tanner and Kenzi’s giggles from the other side of the pool table don’t escape Ruin’s attention, though.

“You and me,” Ruin demands, pointing the end of his pool stick at Tanner. “I’ll even let you break.”

Tanner’s eyes light up, and she steps forward, bracing her hands on the edge of the table, leaning in. “I don’t need you to let me do anything,” she prods with a smirk, her hand reaching for a pool cue. “But if you really like getting your ass spanked, I’m only too happy to oblige.”

“Them’s fightin’ words,” Kenzi goads, her eyes flicking between the two.

I shake my head, stepping around the table and grab her by the hand. “Come on, we better get out of here before Blair realizes Tanner just offered to spank my brother.” Her soft laughter tells me she thinks I’m joking but, in reality, I hope Kace or someone is keeping a damn eye out, or sparks are about to fly.

It’s getting late into the night and to say Kenzi has settled into the party is seeming like a severe understatement.

Malice MC can be loud and rowdy, and things can get a little crazy.

But she’s embracing it, running with it and not letting it scare her.

I think she still knows that every single person in the clubhouse is walking on eggshells. They’re watching their words, their actions, and I’m pretty sure even their alcohol intake. Do they want to smother her, ramble off old memories like they happened yesterday, and celebrate themselves into an alcohol-induced coma? Fuck yes.

But right now, this is about showing her our family.

Her family.

“Where are we going?” Kenzi questions, allowing me to drag her from the busy clubhouse, out through the kitchen and dining space to one of the rare exits. I flick the light switch as we slip out the door, Kenzi slamming into me when I stop suddenly.

“What the—”

The pitch-black space hidden at the rear of the clubhouse lights up, a row of lights along the long ten-foot wire fencing flick on, one after another. The slim alley-like space isn’t much, a little piece of concrete and a dumpster around the corner.

Nothing fancy.

But something that used to be ours.

I crouch down next to the stairs, reaching in underneath them and tug out an old worn basket.

Kenzi frowns, moving in closer as I lift it, and I place the basket on the stoop.

“Are those baseballs?” she asks, pressing against my shoulder as she leans in. I can’t say it doesn’t stir something inside me to have her body so fucking close to mine. Against mine. And to not just be able to put my arm around her or pull her close.

Anything that could have her pulling back.

Her walls tonight had started strong, but they are crumbling by the second, and one false move could send them flying back up.

Inhaling deeply, I nod, pulling a dusty baseball from the basket. I rub it on my jeans, wiping off six years’ worth of grime before lifting it in front of me. “They’re old, but I can’t help but want to see what you could do with them,” I tell her, taking her hand and placing the ball in it before crouching back down and reaching under the stoop for the other item I know has to still be there.

My hand pats around in the dirt and God knows what fucking else before I feel the small round wooden end. I drag it out, my fingers curling around the handle of my favorite fucking bat. “All right,” I tell her, amused by the confused look on her face as she watches me walk to the end of the small concrete pad. “Let’s go.”

She looks down at the ball in her hand before a sharp laugh burst from her mouth. “You want me to throw this?”

I hook the baseball bat over my shoulder and grin. “No, pretty girl. I want you to pitch it.”

“I don—”

“Yes, you do,” I argue, cutting her off and bringing my bat down in front of me, tapping the diamond-shaped base we had carved into the concrete before pulling it back behind me. “You just fleeced Rubble like you’ve been playing pool since you were fucking ten… because you have. And you’ve been playing ball for just as long. So pitch. The fucking. Ball.”

“You’re a goddamn asshole, you know that?” she snaps, crinkling her nose like she doesn’t damn well love it. Like I don’t notice the way she shifts when my tone changes or when I get too close. She can feel the air crackling around us, just like I do.

“Pitch. The. Ball.”

I’m winding her up.

I know I am.

And I fucking love it.

Love that insatiable fire that starts in her eyes when she gets agitated.

Kenzi twists the ball in her hands, shifting back and forth on her feet like she’s trying to find what’s comfortable, what feels right. It takes just a few seconds before she suddenly pulls back and fires the ball with force toward me, honestly, almost catching me off guard.

I swing, the clack of ball meeting bat echoes in the night air as the projectile careens over the tall fences, disappearing with all of a clang in the darkness. The vibrations continue to move up my arms, even as I prop my hand on the base of the bat and start to laugh, my breathing heavy and uneven. “Good pitch.”

She rushes down the short path toward me, her eyes wide as they seem to flick between me and where the ball has disappeared. “That was good?” she questions, bouncing on her toes in excitement.

“It was good for someone who’s been out of practice for a long time and who thought they had no idea how,” I correct, nodding back toward the basket. “Here, there’s some photos stashed in there too, I think.”

She hurries along behind me, her shoes scratching the concrete as I dig around in the basket for a couple of team pictures at the bottom. Kenzi wasn’t a big fan of them, so she’d hidden them there so her dad couldn’t plaster them all over the clubhouse walls.

Her back falls against the outside of the clubhouse, taking one picture after the other from my hands. A couple of her with MVP cups, some team images, and one amazing action shot of her pitching. “You started playing when you were little. Fell in love with the game. Played all through high school, and you were so good. You had eight different colleges offer you scholarships.” Including two international colleges which could’ve had her traveling the world.

She blinks quickly, pulling the picture a little closer to her face to see it in the dim lighting. “Did you play too?” she questions, not pulling her attention away from the image.

I scoff, shaking my head. “No. I just offered to be the one who stood at the other end, so you had someone to pitch to.”

She holds her breath, her hand falling to her side. “You’re good, though.”

“Because I spent hours out here with you. I learned how to swing, so I could stop getting battered by flying baseballs. Those fucking things are hard.”

Her face falls, her eyes drooping. “I wish I remembered,” she whispers, her eyes holding mine, glistening in the light. “I wish I could remember all the things you’ve done for me.”

The air around us begins to change, like it moves with the frantic beats of my racing heart. It swirls around us, forcing my body forward to be closer to her. I brace my hands on the wall on either side of her, trying to keep some distance, trying to fight this incredible magnetic pull constantly drawing us together.

I don’t want it to be like that.

I don’t want to scare her away or confuse her at a time when she’s still unsure of who she can and can’t trust.

It isn’t fair for me to add to that, to make things fucking harder.

It isn’t even that I want her to see me, to see the feelings I have for her and the past we have together. I want her to see herself. I want her to know just how strong and amazing she fucking is. I want her to see what I see.

“You say that like you haven’t done anything for me,” I growl, trying to keep my distance, though I have her caged in.

And she’s standing her ground.

She isn’t running.

“What have I done for you?” she questions, her voice barely above a whisper.

“More than you’ll ever fucking know.” I dip my head, our lips barely a breath apart. I feel her leaning in, her eyes fluttering closed like she’s eager for that touch.

Unfortunately, I’m a fucking idiot.

Regrettably, I push off the building, stepping back.

The heat between us suddenly turning cold, and I’m not sure if in this moment, I’ll regret fucking everything or whether I’m right to pull away.

She isn’t ready.

I’m not fucking ready.

Hell, we’re on a forty-eight-hour release from her fucking Agency prison.

How the hell am I going to kiss her, then walk her back in there tomorrow and let them lock her up again?

No.

No fucking way.

I can’t treat her that way.

Her head hangs, her eyes staying closed for a few seconds before she takes in a slow breath and lifts them.

“I’m sorry,” I answer honestly, gritting my teeth.

She shakes her head, tears brimming her eyes. “Not good enough?”

My stomach falls through the ground into the fires of hell. “Kenzi…”

“I’m a prisoner of the state, right?” She huffs out a short laugh. “Can’t be going around kissing the enemy.”

I press my lips together, grinding my teeth, refusing to reply.

She’s right.

But not for the reason she thinks.

“I want to go.” Her curt tone cuts me to the core.

“Where?”

“Back to my cell! You know, that little hell hole I call home.” She sweeps a hand through her hair, dragging it back from her face. “What was the point in this? I thought you were trying to help me remember. I… I thought…” She stumbles over her words, suddenly pressing her fingers to the side of her head and pinching her eyes closed. The same pain-filled attack happening as before.

I hate the fact I’ve brought this on. I never want to hurt her, not in any way, especially not over something like this. Kissing her is all I’ve wanted to do since I first laid eyes on her again, since I knew she was alive, since I knew she had come back to me. So pulling away seems even more stupid now because it’s causing her physical pain.

“Kenzi…”

“Let’s just go, Axel, I need to—”

Suddenly, the earth rattles, the ground shaking beneath our feet. A deep growl piercing the atmosphere, the sound of metal scraping as an explosion booms through the air. I rush forward gripping onto Kenzi, not knowing where it’s coming from.

The attack siren blares over the clubhouse speakers as Kenzi trembles in my arms. “Axel, what the hell is happening?”

Gunfire pummels through the front of the clubhouse and instantly, I know we’re being ambushed. I’m not sure by who, but I do know Kenzi’s best shot is inside with all my brothers protecting her.

“We gotta move. Keep low, someone’s attacking the clubhouse.”

“Who?” Her voice trembles, breaking with the fear her eyes so obviously reveal.

I can only think of one fucking asshole stupid enough to come into my clubhouse and tear it up.

And I’m gonna make him suffer.