I was married minutes before the pastor was shot dead.

Married to a woman who was a loner like me. Minutes before we were taken captive by a biker gang.

Chained down, I was forced to listen as my bride was questioned. I heard her wedding dress tear. I wanted to kill them all.

Dealer – president of the club – had his doubts about us being feds. Now he has to clean up the mistake.

I was taken in by the Iron Crows Motorcycle Club. My murderous anger morphed into something else. They had a mission in their small town that was more than running a couple of bars. Their efforts were helped along by a sheriff who looked the other way.

And there I was, with my bride, right in the middle of it.