Kole ‘Jinx’ Vanderveer
Loving brother to Kali Vanderveer Stone and brother in the Diamondback Motorcycle Club.
Missed, but never forgotten.
It wasn’t the obituary that caught my attention it was the photo that accompanied it. This Jinx was my private investigator. The one I was supposed to meet the night some asshole attacked me. He told me he found what I was looking for. That he had the information I needed. I never learned what he had or what he found out. It was still a mystery today. If he left notes, then maybe someone would give me the information.
Reaching across the table, I grabbed a small notepad and pen. Jotting down his name, and his sister’s name, I paused when I saw his club affiliation.
I knew about the Diamondback M.C. There wasn’t a resident in Lawton who wasn’t familiar with the biker club or their horrible past. So many died that day, not all members, but all loved none the less. Lawton still had a yearly remembrance ceremony for the dead. While a biker club, those who died that day were also members of this town with family and friends who still missed them.
From my understanding, local and state police never found who slaughtered everyone that day.
Reaching for my coffee, I laid down the paper and wondered what the club did with all of Jinx’s things? Would they have kept them? If so, would they let me look through his papers to see if he still had the information?
Oh, who was I kidding?
There was no freaking way a biker club was going to let me anywhere near their dead brother’s stuff. It was a decent idea that would never happen. Resolved to spending the day on the phone with whatever alphabet agency would talk to me, I hunkered down because it was going to be a long and exhausting day.
“NO!” I shouted. “Don’t put me on hold!”
The second I heard that annoying eighty’s soft rock music, I disconnected the call. Everyone I called either knew nothing, never heard of my father or transferred me to someone else where the call mysteriously disconnected. I wasn’t stupid. I knew they were hanging up on me. If they didn’t know, I got that, but someone in New York State knew something.
That, I was damn sure about.
Drumming my nails on the table, I didn’t know who else to call when my eyes landed on that obituary again.
It was a fucking long shot.
I knew it.
There was also a good chance they would run me off their property.
Biker clubs were very particular about strangers just showing up out of the blue.
Fuck it.
I wasn’t getting anywhere the old-fashioned way.
If the information still existed, then I had to try.
I mean, there was no harm in asking, right?
Wrong!
The second I pulled onto the Diamondback property I knew I made a mistake coming here. When I got to the gate, I was told where to park and that someone would be waiting to greet me. Well, that person was one big son of a bitch who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than talking to me. Funny thing though, he rarely spoke. I would have considered him handsome if it wasn’t for his lack of social graces.
“I know it’s a big ask, but I really need that information.”
“No,” the big man growled, crossing his arms over his massive chest. He wasn’t even trying to understand my dilemma. When I went on to explain why that information was important to me, he flatly told me, “Don’t give a fuck.”
“Please,” I begged. “I hired Jinx to help me.”
“Lady,” the big man sneered, “Get the fuck off this property.”
“Who’s the chick?” another biker asked, walking over. Blinking a few times, I had to take a minute. Holy shit was this new man fine? A prime piece of man flesh. Now that I thought about it, even the man at the gate was some serious eye candy.
“Just some bitch,Prez. I got this.”