Her bottom lip quivered. “Darren.”
Before I could ask for a last name, the bells above the diner door violently jingled. A man in a dark canvas jacket and steel-toed boots stomped inside. He had a rough, arrogant look to him—the kind of guy who threw his weight around because nobody had ever checked him for it.
He scanned the room, entirely ignoring the glaring bikers, until his eyes locked onto the little girl. She let out a choked sob and instantly darted behind my chair, burying her face into the back of my vest.
“Get over here, Lily,” the man barked, stepping forward.
I pushed my chair back, the metal legs scraping loudly across the checkered linoleum. Standing at six-foot-four, I easily blocked his path, keeping Lily shielded behind my legs.
“We need to talk,” the man sneered, sizing me up but not backing down. “Move out of the way, biker.”
“She doesn't want to talk to you,” I said, crossing my arms.