Tank was with Emma in an examination room, visible through the small window. He was holding her hand while a doctor examined her injuries, his presence clearly calming the terrified child.
When she had to change into a hospital gown, a female biker I hadn’t noticed before took over, speaking softly to Emma while helping her.
“How many of you are there?” I asked.
“In our chapter? About thirty. Nationwide? Thousands. We’re in almost every state now, some internationally too.”
He extended his hand. “I’m Scratch. That’s Bones over there, Hammer by the stairs. Tank’s our president.”
“I’m Sarah,” I said, shaking his hand. “I was at the gas station. I saw Emma run to Tank.”
Scratch nodded. “Tank’s got that effect on kids in trouble. Something about him – they just know he’s safe. Been doing this for twenty-two years now, ever since…”
He trailed off, but I sensed there was a story there. Before I could ask, a commotion at the elevator drew our attention. A man in his thirties, disheveled and agitated, was trying to push past Bones.Continue reading…
