The girl with the phone approached us. Her mother was with her now. “I got it all on video,” she said. “You saving us. I want to post it. I want everyone to know that you’re heroes.”
The bearded biker shook his head. “We’re not heroes, sweetheart. We’re just dads who couldn’t stand by and watch someone hurt kids.”
“So did three of us,” another biker said quietly. “All legal. All registered. All carried by veterans who know how to use them responsibly.”
The mother spoke up. “Can I at least buy you all dinner? Or contribute to your charity? Something?”
The bikers looked at each other. The bearded one spoke. “We’re doing a toy run next month for the children’s hospital. If you want to contribute to that, we’d appreciate it.”
He handed her a flyer. I looked at it. “Guardians MC Annual Toy Run – Bringing Christmas to Sick Kids for 20 Years.”
Twenty years. These men had been doing good in our community for twenty years, and I’d never known.
The police finished their investigation. The man was taken away. He was later charged with attempted kidnapping, assault, and possession of child pornography. He’d done this before in three other states.
The girls were safe. Traumatized, but safe.
Before the bikers left, the crying girl—who’d stopped crying by then—ran up to them. “Wait!” She was holding something. A small teddy bear keychain from her backpack. “This is stupid, but… would you take this? To remember that you saved us?”
“We weren’t brave. We were terrified.”
“Being brave doesn’t mean not being scared,” he said. “It means keeping your head when you are scared. You recorded everything. You stuck together. You tried to get help. That’s brave.”
The bikers left then, walking back to their charity setup in the west parking lot.
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