A little girl walked into a biker bar at midnight and asked the scariest-looking man there if he could help her find her mommy.
Every leather-clad rider in that smoke-filled bar fell silent as a tiny child, wearing Disney princess pajamas, appeared in the doorway, tears streaming down her face, staring at thirty rough bikers as if they were her only hope. She walked straight to Snake, the towering six-foot-four president of the Iron Wolves MC, his arms like…