Page 19 of Shadow

“Monk, we all know too well the effect PTSD has on the mind. Plus, coupled with his job as the executioner for the Golden Skulls, the mind will always protect itself. We’ve all been there. Not saying Shadow doesn’t deserve a beat down. ‘Cause when the time comes, I will be in the ring with all of you, but not before we get everything he remembers out of his head.”

Monk grumbled, sitting back in his chair.

The fucker did not like me. Had to admit there was no love lost between the two of us. Asshole was meaner than a damn snake and he kept way too much shit close to the vest. I barely knew the man and I could see it clearly.

“Now, what else do you know about Jinx?”

“Not much. Brother never talked about his past. We just hung out, drank and rode together. He enjoyed playing chess.”

“Great,” Kansas 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,” I muttered, remembering how my dad would use his bike to hide information or how Savage’s dad used his cut to imbed SD cards filled with information.

“What the fuck did you say?” Monk sneered.

Looking at Kansas, I said, “Try looking at his bike or cut.”

“You think he kept the information close?” Kansas asked.

Nodding, I added. “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.”

I 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.

Kansas nodded but said nothing.

I got it.

No one wanted to exhume a dead brother.

Didn’t matter what they buried him with.

A brother’s resting place was never to be disturbed.

“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. As much as I hate prying into brothers’ 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, we 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.”

That had my head snapping up.

I wasn’t a member of the Diamondback M.C., but even I could see there was dissension in the ranks. The brother was a part of the old guard. I never met Big Jim, but I heard about the bastard. He wasn’t one to cross. Long before Kansas took over, Big Jim ran the Diamondback M.C. as he saw fit. The club straddled the line like the Golden Skulls did. After the attack, everything changed. Kansas took the club in a new direction. Now, the Diamondback M.C. was a respected club and part of a community. That’s why Reaper called upon the Diamondbacks for help with the Society.

I never liked Monk.

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