The mute six-year-old girl ran straight into the giant biker’s arms at Walmart, frantically signing something while tears poured down her face.

I watched this massive, tattooed man in a Demons MC vest suddenly start signing back to her fluently, his hands moving with surprising grace as other shoppers backed away in fear.

The little girl – couldn’t weigh more than forty pounds – was clinging to this scary-looking biker like he was her lifeline, her small hands flying through signs I couldn’t understand.

Then the biker’s expression changed from concern to pure rage, and he stood up, scanning the store with eyes that promised violence, still holding the child protectively against his chest.