Kansas (Ruthless Kings MC Atlantic City #2) - K.L. Savage Page 0,9

are sisters. They all look alike, so they have to be. She’s beautiful. A man like me doesn’t deserve to look at her or think of her, but I’m also the kind of man that will make sure a woman is safe.

No matter what it costs me, I will give everything I have to bring security to a woman in need. I don’t care if it kills me.

I blame my heroics on my Mom. Ever since what happened with my Pops, I take what happens to women personally.

And if a man says he doesn’t take it personally, he isn’t a fucking man. We men wouldn’t be anywhere in this world without women. We aren’t shit. They are the ones that run the world, and we just fucking live in it. It’s hilarious to see men pretend otherwise.

“You fucking idiot. You have bingo.” Homer nudges my arm, which causes my elbow to slip against the counter. My chin slips out of my hand, and I almost fall out of my chair.

I stare at my card, oblivious to what the hell he is talking about. Newsflash, I’ve never played bingo, and I don’t know what I’m looking at. “What? Where?”

“Are you stupid? Did your mother drop you on your head as a child?” he asks, jutting his pointy chin out at me.

Probably more than once.

“You little shit. You have bingo twice. Look, each number she’s called out, you’ve put a stamp on. You have an X on your card. Hit your buzzer, you idgit,” Homer gripes, “and yell bingo.”

I grumble and hit my buzzer like he said to do. With less enthusiasm and in a monotone voice, I speak up, “Bingo.”

“What?” half of the elderly people say in unison.

“I need to turn my hearing aid up.” One woman fiddles with the aid in her ear while the announcer walks over to me. Slow as a sloth, since he is using a walker.

My god, I’m going to age fifteen years just by the time he gets to me.

“What’d ya say, sonny?” his voice wobbles from old age.

“I said I have bingo. Two times. Bingo,” I yell, sounding out the words so he can understand me.

“He’s hard of hearing, not stupid, Kansas,” Homer bitches while taking a swig of coke.

They don’t have alcohol here at the bingo hall, so I’m drinking a damn root beer. Apparently, a lot of these old folks are on medication and they aren’t allowed to drink alcohol because of it.

“Well, everyone we have a winner! A double bingo. What a rarity!”

I don’t know what I expect, but I sure as hell don’t expect dirty looks. One guy motions his finger across his throat while mean mugging me. A woman across from him slams her fist into her palm, her messy, pink-painted lips curling in rage at me.

This is getting out of hand.

“You won the grand prize today, sonny!”

Oh, yeah. Can’t wait. It’s probably an oxygen mask.

“You lucky sonofabitch. You better take me somewhere nice.” Homer slaps the back of my head, and I curl away, rubbing the spot he hit.

The announcer hobbles over to the gray counter where the prizes are, like stuffed animals, coupons, and balloons, but he comes back with an envelope instead.

Fuck me.

It’s a bunch of coupons. I know it.

I’ll send some to my Mom. She’ll have a use for them.

“You won a free dinner at Johnny’s steakhouse and five hundred dollars! That’s what you get from a double bingo.”

“No shit?” Huh. Maybe there’s something to this bingo playing after all.

“No shit, Sonny. Well, that’s it for the night. I’ll see everyone on Friday.”

There are sounds of disapproval and a few hard stares again, so I tuck the envelope inside my cut pocket. I don’t trust any of these old people. I bet they would hit me with their canes or run me over with their wheelchairs to get their hands on this prize.

“Ulysses, have a good night. Don’t forget to take your heart pills. We don’t need a scare like last time,” Homer warns his friend, the announcer guy.

I wasn’t here last time. I switched with Satyr because of the woman I carried from the boat. I stayed with her as she slept and kept an eye on her sisters. It’s only been a few days, and they are awake, but they won’t talk to anyone.

“Eh, I got my pacemaker to keep my heart going. I’ll be fine,” Ulysses taps his chest.

“If you die, I’m not coming to your funeral,” Homer says, sliding off his