BOOMER'S RISE (RUTHLESS KINGS MC™ ATLANTIC CITY (A RUTHLESS UNDERWORLD NOVEL) Book 1)

  COPYRIGHT © 2021 BOOMER’S RISE BY KL SAVAGE

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. BOOMER’S RISE is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.

  ISBN: 978-1-952500-33-6

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CONTROL:

  PHOTOGRAPHY BY WANDER AGUIAR PHOTOGRAPHY

  COVER MODEL: KAZ VAN DER WAARD

  COVER DESIGN: LORI JACKSON DESIGN

  EDITING BY: INFINITE WELL

  FORMATTING: CHAMPAGNE BOOK DESIGN

  FIRST EDITION PRINT 2021

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  BOOMER’S RISE PLAYLIST

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ALSO BY K.L. SAVAGE

  To the Risers,

  It’s never too late to claw yourself out of the ashes. It’s never too late for a clean slate, for a fresh start, to be reborn or press the reset button.

  If there is a change that needs to be made in your life, make it. Nothing will get better, no dreams will be made, and happiness will get further away. What’s the point of life if you aren’t living it like you should?

  Don’t wait. Waiting is the worst crime someone can commit to themselves. No time will be the perfect time, there will always be a reason not to do something because of fear.

  How many of us don’t take a step forward because we are afraid of failure? Failure isn’t new to us; it isn’t new to you or anyone you know. If anything, it’s the one thing every human being probably has in common with the other.

  So start over. Fail.

  Take lessons learned. If you fall again, you’ll know how to get back up.

  And rise.

  After the take down of the Ruthless Kings Atlantic City Chapter

  What have I gotten myself into? Reaper and the guys just left yesterday, and once again I’m lost. What am I doing? I’m young. I don’t know how to run an MC. Kansas, One-Eye, Arrow, one of them should be President. Arrow was the VP before all this shit went down, so it only makes sense that he be in charge.

  But no.

  Everyone took a damn vote and now I’m the President for a few guys who have no idea where to go or what to do. We are like an island of misfit toys right now, banding together in hopes that we can find a way to make this work. To make this place our home.

  I rub my finger over the patch that says ‘President’. I’m overwhelmed. How did I get here again?

  Right, I left home because I felt lost, and now, I’m hundreds of miles away on the east coast. I feel fucking lost again.

  “What’s got your fucking thong in a twist?” Homer always sounds so damn pissed off, but it’s just his old age. If I were him, I wouldn’t have the patience to deal with the bullshit either.

  I run my fingers through my hair and lift a shoulder. “I don’t know, Homer. I’m at least ten years younger than Kansas, Arrow, and One-Eye. They voted for me, but why? Why do they want some young guy in here, who has no idea what he’s doing, to be the head of the MC? I’m not the most stable, if you can remember.”

  It was only a few weeks ago that I jumped in the ocean and tried to kill myself. God, the guilt I feel over Sarah losing her baby, I’ll never forgive myself. It’s unforgivable. I’ve been talking to Scarlett about going to therapy more, but I don’t know. Going more means I have a bigger problem than I’m admitting to right now and would make it more real. Right now, it’s my demon to tackle, but admitting that to a professional? I don’t know about that.

  I have Scarlett and this motel, what else do I need?

  In typical Homer fashion, he rolls his eyes and pulls out a joint from the inside of his cut pocket. If there is one thing the man has taken advantage of, it’s the cut. He loves being a part of the club, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Homer, where the hell did you get weed?” I ask him. I’m shocked. I didn’t know he smoked.

  “I ain’t getting any younger, and I want to try all the damn things this world has to offer. Had my first high last night—” he laughs, the wrinkles in his cheeks pinching together as he smiles, “—and all I can say is—” he blows out a thick cloud of smoke, “—what the fuck was I waiting for? Jesus Christ, I’m going to go get one of those medical maree-jee-uana cards for my arthritis.”

  “Marijuana, Homer. It’s pronounced marijuana. And you don’t have arthritis.”

  “Well, the doctor don’t know that, does he? Like it’s hard to fake weak bones at my age. Please,” he rolls his eyes at me again. He takes another puff. I hold out my hand to take a hit, but he shakes his head. “Ain’t no puff puff pass rule in my book. Go get your own.”

  My arm drops to my leg, and I chuckle, shaking my head at the ornery man. “Yeah, Homer. Okay.” It’s been a while since I smoked. A lot of people really enjoy the high, but I’m not a fan. I feel like half the time, it just makes my head cloudy. In a bad way.

  The wheels of his chair squeak as he rolls over to me, the smell of pot thick in the air. “Listen, Boomer. You’re a smart kid. Kind. Strong. You aren’t afraid to do the wrong thing when it means the end goal is right. You’re willing to put others before yourself. That’s what they voted for. That’s what makes you a good leader. And sure, you’re a little fucked in the head, but we all are. You live with it better than most.”

  “Wouldn’t call a suicide attempt better,” I mumble, lying the blank leather cut on the table.

  “We all have our demons,” he shrugs. “We’ve dealt with a lot of shit lately. You’re allowed to come down from the adrenaline and question everything. Hell, if you didn’t succumb, someone else would have, but maybe they wouldn’t have kept going like you. Okay, enough of the fucking feelings. Jesus, I feel like I grew a pair of tits.” He pinches the blunt between his lips and leans back, resting his elbows on the table behind him and taking a puff so hard, I know he is about to cough.

  But he doesn’t.

  He keeps inhaling as if he has done this his entire life.

  “Don’t let the girls hear you talk like that,” I scold, not wanting Scarlett or Abigale to hear how rude that sounded. Homer is a grouch, and they know that, but it isn’t an excuse.

  “Yes, I know,” he grumbles. “Sorry. My wife would have kicked me in the ass for
that.”

  I slap his shoulder when he becomes silent. He misses her so much.

  “I’m going to start cleaning this place up, knocking some walls down and figuring out a new layout. You want to help or are you going to be a pothead all day?”

  He frowns. “Can’t I help and be a pothead?”

  I’m worried Homer is going to be a bad influence on the guys, and not the other way around. I snort at the thought of the club cowering from an old man like Homer. I only have a few guys right now. Wolf, Kansas, Arrow, and One-Eye to be exact. It’s not really a club yet. Just a few guys who live together.

  I rub my temples and wonder how the hell this is going to come together. I think about Reaper and what he said while he was here. He believes in me, which is great, and he thinks I belong here.

  Which I believe too, but when will this feeling of being unsettled go away?

  “You sit back and relax, Homer. I’ll take Wolf with me and see if we can’t find a guy to help us with blueprints.”

  “You do that,” Homer nods, rubbing his joint in the ashtray to put it out. “He needs out of the place for a bit. You know? He’s been focused on Abigale so much.”

  “Yeah,” I say sadly.

  Abigale is one of the girls that didn’t make it out of the Atlantic City Chapter unscathed. Unfortunately, she got the most of their abuse, and now she’s very sick with pneumonia. Luckily, when Reaper was here, Doc came with. They brought all the equipment we needed for her. Now, she’s in one of the hotel rooms with an oxygen mask on her face, and we aren’t too sure how she is going to beat it.

  Wolf is in love with Abigale and hasn’t left her side, but I think now is a good time to get him out of the clubhouse.

  I head out the office door. The tunnel is cooler, from the breeze coming in from the left. My boots echo off the cement walls as I head toward the sound of the waves. I have to say, the view is fucking prettier than the view in Vegas. I can’t believe Homer is letting us change his motel into a clubhouse. It’s prime property. It’s on the beach, only around fifty yards from the waterfront. I can step in the sand after I get to the end of the tunnel. It’s almost more of an outdoor hallway, really. I stand there for a minute, close my eyes, and let the breeze drift over my face. Salt is clinging to the air, and the waves are foaming up as they rise and crash against the shore. The water is a navy blue, promising dark depths that someone can get lost in.

  Like I almost got lost in.

  “Hey, Boom,” Scarlett says, wrapping her arms around my waist.

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and hold her close. “Hey, Sugar,” I greet her, feeling more relaxed with her touch.

  “You okay?”

  “Just overwhelmed. I don’t know where to start or what to do.”

  “You’re doing it,” she says, sliding her body along mine as she makes her way to the front. She tilts her head up and her black hair catches in the wind, flowing across her left shoulder. The hot blue flames of her eyes blink at me through ink-colored lashes, and she softly lays her hand over my cheek. “All we can do is take it day by day.”

  “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” I marvel, running my thumb over her bottom lip.

  “Jenkins,” she looks away, blushing.

  “Don’t go saying my name like that.” I rub my nose across her cheek, the energy turning and spinning with arousal. “That’s how you sound when I slide inside you, and I’m not able to feel you around me right now.”

  She inhales, moaning as she tilts her head and scratches her nails up my neck until her fingers are tangled in my hair. My lips find the pounding pulse of her neck and lick the vein. My hands skim up her body and grab her tits. I moan, feeling my cock jerk in my pants.

  Wolf can wait twenty minutes.

  I take her hand in mine and step onto the sand to pull her toward our bedroom. A rumbling fills the air, and I pause to listen intently. There’s no mistaking that sound.

  Bikes.

  I grunt in frustration. Scarlett might have to wait, too.

  A few doors of the motel open and the rest of men poke their heads out. Kansas recently gained enough strength to stand and walk, so when he comes out of the door, he’s locked and loaded. His gun is pure gold, with a barrel the size of goddamn Texas. I know if he pulls the trigger, he’s blowing someone’s brains out.

  Grabbing Scarlett’s shoulder, I stare into her eyes, my voice soft, yet with a firm edge. “Go in the room and stay there. Do you understand?”

  She nods, lets go of my hand, and runs to the room like instructed.

  Fuck.

  I do not have time for this right now. I dip into my cut pocket and pull out a grenade. I don’t pull the clip. Not yet, but I don’t have the patience. I’m not trying to fuck around today. I want to get my club on track.

  Homer comes out of the office with a sawed-off shotgun, and another damn blunt in his mouth. “Who the hell are these fuckers?” Homer asks, the blunt bobbing between his lips as he speaks.

  “Don’t know, Homer,” I tell him, watching two bikes pull into the parking lot.

  “I’m not in the mood today.” Kansas cocks his gun, and the gold glints from the sun reflecting off it.

  When the two men kick down the kickstands on their bikes, I notice they aren’t wearing cuts, but they sure as hell have seen a fist or two if the bruises on their face say anything.

  “Who the hell are you?” I ask, lifting my grenade in the air. “We aren’t really looking for visitors right now, and the motel is out of commission.”

  “We aren’t looking for a room. We’re looking for the guy who took down the Atlantic City Chapter. He goes by Boomer.” He cocks his head and looks at me, a grin taking over his face. “By the grenade in your hand, I’d say that’s you.”

  “Well, what the hell do you want?” I ask. Kansas senses my unease because he aims the gun at one of them.

  “We want to join. I’m Colt. This is Void,” he points to his friend next to him who hasn’t said a word. “We’re from Nebraska.”

  “How did you hear about us?” Kansas asks, the edge of mistrust heavy on his tongue.

  “Word gets around fast when the Ruthless Kings Vegas Chapter talks. They have been spreading word.”

  Well, I guess if I’m jumping into this, I’m doing it with both fucking boots.

  I bet Tool was behind this. He loves to run his mouth when it comes to me. Damn it.

  “Listen, guys. There is a lot to work to be done here. People are healing, we’re building from the ground up. Starting with this motel. If you’re here to basically fuck around and get your dick wet with cut sluts, this isn’t the place for you.”

  “Put us to work, boss.” Colt swings his leg over his bike and hops off. He’s a big sonofabitch and I could use the extra hands.

  “I don’t trust you. I don’t know enough.” I eye him up, wondering what his real intentions are. We don’t fucking have anything for him to steal or ruin, so his intentions can’t be that bad.

  “Figured we could get that out of the way now,” he says, his eyes landing on Kansas. “You from Kansas?”

  “No.”

  I wait for Kansas to emphasize, but he continues to aim the gun at Colt’s face.

  Colt holds his hands in the air and smirks. “I get it. Stories are earned before they are told.”

  I’m definitely biting off more than I can chew.

  I need some fireworks.

  Or maybe I just need my Sugar.

  I find Scarlett in Abigale’s room, the machines beeping and the oxygen hissing to keep her friend alive. Abigale is one of the unfortunate souls we rescued from the Ruthless Kings Atlantic City Chapter. Yes, that is who we are now, but the previous men who ran this club were downright evil. They kidnapped, bought, sold, raped, and drugged women. Abigale got the worst treatment out of all the girls, and while she was in the cold, wet, dirty basement, she got really sick.

  And she keeps getting worse.

  “How is
she doing today?” I ask Scarlett, who is holding her hand and staring at her face. She wants her friend to wake up, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. I want her to, but it’s going to take a miracle. Last time Doc was here from the Vegas chapter, he told me her lungs were shot from the pneumonia, and without the machine breathing for her, she wouldn’t survive.

  Wolf won’t let her go.

  Abigale and him, they have this connection that is so far beyond anything I’ve ever seen. It’s out of this world. A magnetism that can’t be explained. I know if she doesn’t make it, he is going to be devastated.

  “The same as yesterday.” Scarlett rubs her eyes and then drops her arms, landing on her thighs with a hard slap. “And the day before that, and the day before that—” she stops speaking when her voice becomes high-pitched and wobbly. Those sapphire eyes glitter like stars when they land on me, tears filling them and turning them to pools. “She isn’t ever going to get better, is she? She’s going to die.”

  “Sugar,” I say, running to her side and sweeping her up in my arms. She buries her face in my chest and cries. I don’t know what to tell her, because I don’t have the heart to say the truth. I don’t want to give her false hope because I know she’ll think I’m right. She will get this idea that her friend is going to live and be alright.

  I can’t do that to her. I can be a cruel man, but I’m not when it comes to her. I’m a good man, and good men don’t lie to their ol’ ladies.

  “She deserves to live, Boomer.” She leans back and my hands cup her jaws that are wet with tears. “She deserves so much more than this.”

  I stroke my thumbs across her skin and nod, bringing my lips to her forehead to leave a kiss. “I know. I’m sorry, Sugar. I’m so sorry.” I hold her while she cries, burying my hand in her hair as I hold her to me. I stare down at Abigale. She’s skin and bone, her hair is dull and greasy, and the skin around her eyes are so sunken the dark circles are permanent.

  What can I do for her? What can I do for the club? We need a damn doctor, but I don’t know how to find one. Maybe Doc will know someone looking for a job? If we can get a doctor here as a member, maybe then Abigale will stand a chance. She didn’t want to go the hospital. We are abiding by her wishes, but how much longer until I throw what the fuck she wants out the window to save her life?