I Hired Bikers To Scare My Daughters Stalker But They Did Something I Never Expected!
The scent of stale beer, aged leather, and defiance hung thick in the air of the motorcycle clubhouse, a fortress of hardened resolve. Desperation, a potent driver of human action, had led me, a forty-five-year-old suburban real estate professional, straight to this intimidating sanctuary. I clutched a wad of cash—five hundred dollars—a desperate offering for a…
