The Oklahoma diner fell completely silent beneath the buzzing neon lights.<\/p>\n
Rain rolled softly down the windows while six bikers slowly turned toward the entrance.<\/p>\n
A tall man stood near the door breathing heavily from the storm outside.<\/p>\n
The frightened little girl instantly pressed closer against the biker leader\u2019s side.<\/p>\n
Fear shook through her tiny voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s him.\u201d<\/p>\n
The biker leader rested one rough hand gently on her shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s your name, sweetheart?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAbby.\u201d<\/p>\n
The man forced a nervous smile as he approached the booth.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere you are,\u201d he said quickly. \u201cYou scared me to death.\u201d<\/p>\n
None of the bikers moved.<\/p>\n
Leather creaked softly as they watched him carefully.<\/p>\n
The biker leader studied Abby\u2019s face first.<\/p>\n
Then the bruises hidden beneath the sleeve of her sweater.<\/p>\n
His eyes darkened instantly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou her father?\u201d<\/p>\n
The man hesitated half a second too long.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Wrong answer.<\/p>\n
Abby shook her head immediately, tears filling her eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe lies.\u201d<\/p>\n
The diner waitress quietly backed away from the counter and reached for the phone beneath it.<\/p>\n
The biker leader leaned slightly toward the child.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho is he?\u201d<\/p>\n
Abby\u2019s trembling fingers tightened around his leather vest.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mom\u2019s boyfriend.\u201d<\/p>\n
Silence crushed the diner.<\/p>\n
One biker slowly removed his sunglasses.
\nAnother cracked his knuckles softly beneath the table.<\/p>\n
The man noticed the mood changing and forced another smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s upset because her mother sent her with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
The biker leader\u2019s voice stayed calm.
\nToo calm.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why\u2019d she run into a biker diner instead of to you?\u201d<\/p>\n
The man\u2019s expression tightened instantly.<\/p>\n
Rain thundered harder outside while every customer in the diner secretly watched.<\/p>\n
Abby whispered something else now.<\/p>\n
Barely loud enough to hear.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe hurts Mommy.\u201d<\/p>\n
That did it.<\/p>\n
Every biker at the booth slowly stood at once.<\/p>\n
The diner suddenly felt much smaller.<\/p>\n
The man stepped backward automatically.<\/p>\n
Because the six bikers no longer looked like tired travelers.<\/p>\n
They looked like predators.<\/p>\n
The biker leader rose last.<\/p>\n
Tall.
\nScarred.
\nCold-eyed.<\/p>\n
He looked down at Abby carefully.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou trust us?\u201d<\/p>\n
The little girl nodded instantly.<\/p>\n
Then the biker looked back toward the man standing frozen near the door.<\/p>\n
And smiled slightly.<\/p>\n
Not kindly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou picked the wrong diner.\u201d<\/p>\n
The man tried pointing angrily.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t keep her from me!\u201d<\/p>\n
The biker leader folded his arms slowly.<\/p>\n
\u201cWatch us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Outside\u2014<\/p>\n
more motorcycle headlights suddenly appeared through the rain.<\/p>\n
Dozens of them.<\/p>\n
The man\u2019s face drained completely white.<\/p>\n
Because the six bikers at the booth\u2026<\/p>\n
weren\u2019t alone after all.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The Oklahoma diner fell completely silent beneath the buzzing neon lights. Rain rolled softly down the windows while six bikers slowly turned toward the entrance. A tall man stood near the door breathing heavily from the storm outside. The frightened little girl instantly pressed closer against the biker leader\u2019s side. Fear shook through her tiny […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":3194,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3192","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-trending-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3192","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3192"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3192\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3194"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3192"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3192"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3192"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}