Pipes - the bikers all go by their road names for security - steps back and another biker comes forward, also bent low and hand out, smiling. She has a long blond ponytail, and her name is Nytro. Next is D'Animal, his arms thick with muscles, a do-rag covering his head.
Rock, who is as solid as one, assures the little girl: "I'm really a nice guy." She smiles. And then there's Pumpkin and, whoa, the girl looks way up, squinting against the morning sun. "Hi, I'm Tree," he says, and he's as tall as one.
Sassy. Rembrandt. And then Harmony and Shiraz, and the child does a double take. Yes, there are two of them, twin biker chicks. Surely. Uno. Smiles. Tool. Mo Money. Bigg Dogg. Fat Daddy. Ghost Daddy. Father Time. And Trucker, who's louder than all the others.
The girl chewing on her lip was abused by a relative, according to police reports - someone she should have been able to trust. He's not in the state any longer, but the criminal case is progressing slowly, so he's not in jail, either.
He still terrorizes her at night, even though he's nowhere near. She wakes, heart pounding. The nightmare feels real again. She never feels safe, even with her parents just downstairs.
The unruly-looking mob in her driveway is there to help her feel safe again. They are members of the Arizona chapter of Bikers Against Child Abuse International, and they wear their motto on their black leather vests and T-shirts: "No child deserves to live in fear."
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