KANSAS (RUTHLESS KINGS MC™ ATLANTIC CITY (A RUTHLESS UNDERWORLD NOVEL) Book 2) Read online

  COPYRIGHT© 2021 KANSAS 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. KANSAS is intended for 18+ older, and for mature audiences only.

  ISBN: 978-1-952500-40-4

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CONTROL: 2021903494

  PHOTOGRAPHY BY WANDER AGUIAR PHOTOGRAPHY

  COVER MODEL: CLAYTON W

  COVER DESIGN: LORI JACKSON DESIGN

  EDITING BY: INFINITE WELL

  FORMATTING: CHAMPAGNE BOOK DESIGN

  FIRST EDITION PRINT 2021

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Reading Order

  Dedication

  Authors Note

  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

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Kansas’s Playlist

  Acknowledgements

  Also by K.L. Savage

  PREQUEL—REAPER’S RISE

  BOOK ONE—REAPER

  BOOK TWO—BOOMER

  BOOK THREE—TOOL

  BOOK FOUR—POODLE

  BOOK FIVE—SKIRT

  BOOK SIX—PIRATE

  A RUTHLESS HALLOWEEN

  BOOK SEVEN—DOC

  BOOK EIGHT—TONGUE

  BOOK NINE—A RUTHLESS CHRISTMAS

  BOOK TEN—KNIVES

  ASYLUM BOOK ONE—LUNATIC

  AC BOOK ONE—BOOMER’S RISE

  BOOK ELEVEN—TONGUE’S TARGET

  ROYAL BASTARDS—THRASHER

  MORETTI SYNDICATE BOOK ONE—MATEO

  AC BOOK TWO—KANSAS

  ASYLUM BOOK TWO—CHAOTIC

  HELLHOUNS BOOK ONE—MERCY

  BOOK TWELVE BULLSEYE

  BOOK THIRTEEN—ORBITING MARS

  BOOK FOURTEEN—SLINGSHOT

  BR BOOK ONE—COWBOY

  NOMADS BOOK ONE—SAVAGE

  BOOK FIFTEEN—TONGUE’S TASTE

  BOOK FIFTEEN—BADGE

  AC BOOK THREE—WOLF

  SURVIVAL BOOK ONE—SURVIVE

  NOMADS BOOK TWO—COUNTRY

  INK BOOK ONE—LUCIFER

  ASYLUM BOOK THREE—EMPHATIC

  To all of those that can’t seem to catch a breather and are busting their asses working from home, taking care of the family, working away from home, and still taking care of the family in these crazy times.

  It’s crazy out there. We aren’t in Kansas anymore, folks.

  And we hope this book brings you an escape from the harsh reality of the world we are living in today.

  I can’t believe it’s been a year since the light bulb went off in my head, and I had the random idea that I wanted to do this. As always, I shared my idea with my bestie, and we started hashing everything out. It was a random idea with tons of what-ifs and unknown variables but just like every other time Lynn said, “Let’s go for it. Let’s make it happen. All you can do is try.”

  Things might not be how we envisioned this when we started but the one thing that never changes is her support and her drive to help make our books the best they can be. I can’t tell you how many times she goes without sleep working on something, so I don’t have to. With the seed already planted, I called The Instigator, and I said, “Sooo feel free to say no but Lynn and I discussed this, and I think we can, but would you consider writing this MC book with me. Before you decide you should know I don’t really have money for this and it’s going to be a while before you see any money so just think about it.”

  Of course, she didn’t even think about it she said, “I don’t care, I trust you. If you think we have a shot at this, I’m in. I don’t care about the money. I just want to be a part of it.” Knowing how hard we all had it at that point in time, I couldn’t believe she said yes, but she did. And for a long time, she was killing herself working full time and staying up all hours trying to keep up.

  Now let’s get to my mom. If you knew our history, you’d think I had a death wish asking for anything. But pretty much like I did with The Instigator I said sooo mom, and I laid it all out for her, and she didn’t even have to think about it. She handed over her credit cards and her perfect credit score and said, “I know you can do this, and it’s going to pay off in the long run.” It’s been rough at times and even then, she just says it’s gonna pay off.

  Then there’s my stepdad, he is the best. I’m pretty sure he talks about our books more than we do. I can’t tell you how many times he’d say you need to write a book. Our books might not be what he had in mind, but he doesn’t care. He still reads them. He is still one of our biggest supporters and will still pull all-nighters working on our stuff. Why? Because this is my baby. This is a random thought, a dream I had for me and my bestie and The Instigator.

  Since it’s our one year anniversary, I thought it was only fitting I shared with you how K.L. Savage started and tell some of the most important people in my life thanks for all they do because I know I don’t say it enough.

  Sixteen years old, Tulsa, Oklahoma.

  I always heard my Pops say that in order to get respect, you have to give it. I think that’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard.

  Trust and respect are what people offer when they can’t be trusted or respected. Everyone who says they aren’t like that are nothing but liars.

  And let’s face it.

  Everyone lies.

  I’m only sixteen. I shouldn’t be so damn cynical, but I am. My instincts have always been chalked up to being young, naïve, and paranoid, but I know better. It’s how I know not to respect or trust my Pops. It’s been that way forever. My hatred for him goes back years. I can’t remember a time where I didn’t look at him and wish he were dead.

  There is something… off.

  I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if maybe I’m just the piece of shit who has the problem, but my gut says my Pops is a liar. How is he lying or why? I can’t say. I don’t have an answer, but I know for the last few years, my mom has been depressed.

  All she does is take a dozen different pills every day, and I think it has everything to do with him. Mom knows something, and if she doesn’t, she feels it the same way I do.

  “Man, that’s the eighth strike in a row. What the hell is going on with you? You never don’t swing the bat,” my best friend Nigel shouts at me from the pitcher’s mound. His arms are spread
to the side, the ball in his throwing hand and the glove in the other.

  I kick the dirt and swing the bat back up until it’s lying on my shoulder. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.” Nigel and I always come to the local baseball field every day after school to get in a little extra practice before the season starts.

  “You okay?” he asks, jogging to me. His cleats kick red dust in the air, and when he stops in front of me, he has sweat dripping down his face. “What’s going on, Amos? You know you can talk to me.”

  “It’s nothing new.”

  “Your dad again?”

  I nod, grinding my teeth back and forth. “You know I can’t remember a weekend where he stayed with us. It’s always been me and Mom. She isn’t doing great. She’s barely conscious half the time, man. I think she knows something is going on, and I want to find out what it is. I want to know where he goes on the weekends,” I say, slamming the bat against my cleat to knock off the dirt.

  “You don’t think he goes to work like he says?”

  I snort and squint my eyes toward the sky. “Not for a damn second. Every weekend he has a work trip? No. I don’t believe it, and you know what? My mom deserves more than what she has right now. She deserves more than sleeping her life away because she’s so damn miserable.”

  Nigel’s hands fall to his hips and he spits onto the ground. “So let’s find out where he goes.”

  “Really? You’d go with me?”

  “Yeah, man. Let’s lay this to rest. Let’s see what the asshole is up to.”

  I shake my head and grab his arm when he starts to walk away. “I can’t have you go with me. I don’t know what I’ll do to him if I find out it’s something bad.”

  “I won’t let you do anything stupid,” Nigel tells me, clutching my shoulder with his hand. “Best friends, remember? Plus, I never liked your dad either.”

  “I don’t know many who can see through his fake exterior. He thinks he has everyone fooled, but I know he is a damn snake, Nigel.” I wrap my hand around the bat a little tighter, wishing my dad was in front of me right now.

  “Listen, you sure you want to go down this road? He is your dad.”

  “I don’t care. When people are bad for you, especially family, I believe in cutting them out of your life, because toxin kills. And Mom is soaking up all his toxic bullshit. I’m done with it. I need to know.”

  Nigel digs into his red duffel bag and holds up his keys. “Well, I just got my license, so how about we follow him and see where he goes?”

  A wicked grin stretches my lips. “You must be the smartest person I know.”

  “I get that more than you think.” He stuffs his keys in his pocket and throws his bag over his shoulder as we leave the dugout.

  Everyone thinks Oklahoma is this dry piece of useless land, and I suppose the majority of it kind of is. Tulsa isn’t like that though. It’s the big city to go to. We have green grass here, and only every now and then does a tumbleweed cross the baseball field.

  I like it here for the most part. It isn’t a place where everyone knows everyone, but big enough where everyone knows someone, who then eventually knows someone else. It’s a constant chain of “Oh, you know Bobby? Me too. He’s my brother’s friend’s aunt’s sister’s ex-husband.”

  It’s a whole lot of bullshit and a whole lot of gossip, but it’s home.

  At least, I thought it was.

  Right now, it feels very temporary, like the rug is about to come out from under my feet. I’m tired of feeling that way.

  “I’m going to go home, shower, and change. What time does your dad usually leave?” Nigel asks as he unlocks his bike from the fence.

  Yeah, I never bother doing that. My bike isn’t new like Nigel’s.

  “Seven,” I reply, swinging my leg over my bicycle.

  He glances at his watch and nods. “Okay, that gives us a few hours. You go home and do what you need to do. I’ll tell my parents I’m spending the night with you. You tell yours you’re spending the night with me. We both pack a bag because we have no idea where we will end up being when we follow him.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Okay, sounds good.” We slap our palms together, then our fists, and then point finger guns at each other. It’s our secret handshake. He pushes off the ground and begins to pedal when I call out for him, “Hey, Nigel?”

  He hits his breaks so hard the tires skid. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  He grins. “Brothers, remember?” Nigel pushes off the road, and his bike sways from left to right with every circle of the pedals to make the bike go faster.

  I slide my bat into my bag and hook it around my shoulders, then take off on my bike in the opposite direction Nigel went. We live a ten-minute bike ride from one another, but the baseball field is right between us, so it never takes long to get home.

  Thinking about what we are going to do has me nervous. What if my dad catches us? What do we do then? And what if I’m wrong? What if I learn he isn’t the problem, but I am?

  I jump over the curb and land on both wheels, zooming by a stray cat that’s staring me down as if I’m its breakfast.

  The familiar song of an ice cream truck almost has me turning around to go get an ice cream sandwich, but I decide against it, since we don’t have that much time between now and when my dad leaves.

  The sun beams down against the top of my shoulders, warming my skin, but as soon as I take the next right down the street, the heat is blocked by trees. The chain against my bike spins as I coast down the road, passing green garbage bins at the end of every driveway.

  Until we get to where I live, of course.

  I’m the only one who takes out the trash, does the laundry, dishes, mows the lawn, pays the bills and whatever else. Mom is incapable right now, and my dad works late and leaves on the weekends. So it’s up to me to be the man of the house because my dad does not count.

  “Damn it, I missed trash day,” I grumble to myself.

  I sigh when I see the overflowing trashcan while everyone else’s is empty. Dropping my bike in the middle of the yard, I step over the dead bushes and onto the walkway. Every step gets heavier the closer I get to the front door. My mom’s favorite garden gnome, Jack she named him, is looking a bit grungy with dirt.

  I pick him up and stare at the faded green door. “Looks like it’s just you and me,” I say to him, knowing I’m insane for talking to a gnome. I turn the gold knob, and the door creaks open as if I’m entering a haunted house. The living room is dark, the TV isn’t on, but I know they are home because both cars are in the driveway.

  Pops’ briefcase is on the coffee table, the latches undone, and I’m tempted to open it and look inside, but I hear footsteps coming down the hall.

  I beeline to the kitchen and pass the stack of dishes I need to go through, then bite the inside of my cheek as that rage inside me begins to build. I place Jack in the sink, flip the faucet on, and douse him in soap. I scrub him, grinding my teeth together when I remember Jack only exists because Pops got it for her.

  She loves the damn thing.

  “Amos, hey. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight. Lucky me,” Pops says from behind me, messing up my hair from behind with his hand. “How was practice with Nigel?”

  “Good.” I breathe in and out, wanting nothing more than to turn around and smash Jack against the side of my Pops’ head. “We always make the team, so I’m not worried.”

  “I’m just proud of you for going out there and practicing like you do. Takes dedication. I can’t wait to go to your games. They are my favorite part of my week.”

  He talks like that, and I feel guilty. My Pops isn’t a deadbeat. That’s what makes this entire situation harder than it is, because I feel like it’s all in my head. He never misses a game. He’s always there cheering me on. He tells me he is proud of me every day. He says he loves me. He doesn’t hit me, talk down to me, or anything negative.

  He’s the perfect father, minus how he’s never home o
n the weekends until my games begin. It really just makes me more curious.

  “Yeah, I think I’ll be starting this year too. My batting average is good.”

  “That’s great, Amos. Hey, maybe next time when you and Nigel go to the baseball field, I’ll tag along. I want to see what you’re up to.” He grips my shoulder and gives me a slight shake. “So damn proud of you.” He kisses the back of my head.

  I cringe away, like I do from any affection. “Pops, stop.”

  “Okay, okay. Just wanted to let you know I love you,” he says.

  Great. Now I feel guilty again. “Are you still leaving tonight?”

  He sighs, and I know that fake regretful sound from anywhere. “Sorry, Amos. You know if I keep working hard like I am, I’ll get that promotion, and we can finally have what we need.”

  “I know. It’s been a while. When is the promotion going to happen?” I ask, wondering how long he thinks he can feed me the same line of bullshit. It’s been years.

  “Soon. I really think it will happen soon.”

  “Great. Can’t wait to have you home more,” I lie. Turning off the water, I dry Jack off and set him to the side to dry. “I need to go hop in the shower. I’m going to go check on Mom.”

  “She’s wasting away. There’s nothing you can do for her,” he says to my back once I begin to leave the room.

  I pause, the familiar shivers of the discomfort I feel about him tingling my spine. “She’s sick. She isn’t wasting away. She needs help.”

  “You’ll see, son. She wants us to take care of her when she’s a grown woman and needs to learn to take care of herself. I don’t mean this in a bad way.” He walks around me and grips my biceps with his hands. He smiles, and his hazel eyes crinkle on the side as he stares at me. I know I’m looking straight at the devil. I know I am. I just need to prove it. “Go on. Go shower. Soon, you’ll see how much I’ll be able to better your life without her in it.”

  I shrug out of his hold and push by him with my shoulder. I’m only sixteen, but I’m already taller than he is, so I tilt my chin to my chest and stare down at him. “I don’t want a life without her in it. She is my mom. I’m not giving up on her because you think it’s the easiest thing to do.” My feet pound down the hallway, and I kick the bathroom door open, then slam it shut.