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s right—he called the cops.
When the officers arrived the following Saturday, the entire restaurant fell quiet.
She clutched the biker’s arm. “Are they taking you too? Like they took Daddy?”
The man—Bear, as she called him—rested his massive hand gently on her head. “Nobody’s taking me anywhere, sweetheart. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
But his eyes were alert. Watching. Calculating. Twenty years as a Marine and another fifteen riding with the Nomad Warriors MC had taught him to scan every room, every movement.
The lead officer approached cautiously. “Sir, we’ve had some reports—”
“I’ve got paperwork,” Bear said evenly. He moved slowly, taking out a wallet and handing over a laminated document.Continue reading…
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