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“Great,” I sighed. “Keys, what about you? You said you sometimes helped him with his investigations. Explain?”
Keys sat up, placing his arms on the table. “Jinx had many side jobs, but he loved the PI shit. Fucker was making a name for himself. Had a damn good success rate. Everything from cheating spouses to finding a missing person. Brother had a gift. The last case he was working on, he was trying to locate some asshole. He wouldn’t go into specifics, but he said the fucker was bad news. His client was the daughter.”
“Does anyone know where Jinx would have kept the information on the cases he worked?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“Look at his bike or his cut,” Shadow muttered.
“What the fuck did you say?” Monk sneered.
He said again, “Try looking at his bike or cut.”
“You think he kept the information close?” I asked.
Shadow nodded. “A few of the Golden Skulls’ old guards were sneaky that way. Kept the information in plain sight. No one noticed shit. My dad used to keep flash drives in his headlight. One brother sewed SD cards behind the club’s patch on his cut. If the information is on something small, like an SD card, all he would need is his phone to access the information. None of you would ever know.”
“Jesus,” Pence groaned. “That’s some sneaky James Bond shit.”
Shadow shrugged. “When your life depends on information, you will do anything to make sure it gets into the right hands.”
“His bike is in the garage,” Whisper muttered. “I can take it apart.”
“I’ll help,” Widow added.
“We buried him with his cut, Kansas.” Pence informed.
I nodded but said nothing. I wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole. Brother was at peace. Hell would freeze over before I disturbed his resting place.
“It would help if we knew his real name?” Keys spoke. “I could do a deep dive, gather information that way. Sorry to say, but I just knew him as Jinx.”
“We respected his privacy, Keys. When he died, we didn’t think. We just buried our brother. None of us knew he was working on a case.” Fuck this shit. I was going to kill two birds with one stone. I wanted information on Monk. I didn’t like how shady he’s been lately and well, Sypher could use any information I could get him. The faster I put one of my troubles to bed, the happier I would be. “As much as I hate prying into brother’s personal shit, I want the full legal name of every member of this club and their next of kin in case shit goes sideways. I don’t enjoy knowing that someone is out there who thinks Jinx’s is alive. If he has family, I need to contact them.”
Monk shook his head. “Big Jim never pried, Kansas. It’s always been the Diamondback way. You can’t ask brothers to give you that information. It isn’t right.”
“Don’t give a fuck,” I growled. “Big Jim is dead. You and the rest of the club voted me in as Prez. You don’t like how I run things, then bring it up at the next monthly meeting. Until then, you will give Keys your full legal name and your next of kin. Got me?”
“Can’t do that,” my Sergeant of Arms stated flatly, getting to his feet. “I won’t.”
“What the fuck do you mean you won’t?” Pence fumed, rising from his chair too. “The Prez of this club just gave an order.”
Monk said nothing more as he walked out of church.
Twenty-Six
Kali
Something was wrong.
I could tell from how the brothers went from happy-go-lucky to pissed off and ready to kill. Whoever Hope’s brother was, it seemed the entire club knew him and they weren’t happy he was here.
“I’m sorry about this,” Hope whispered. “I should have just driven myself. Zeke hasn’t been well lately. I thought a drive might do him some good.”
“Has he been sick?” I asked, concerned.
“Not like you think. My brother has PTSD. He’s been having these horrible nightmares. I know he was seeing a therapist in Tennessee, but now that he’s here with us, I’m worried he’s not getting the services he needs.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Hope. If there is anything I can do, please let me know.”
