MY SON BEGGED ME FOR HELP AND NOW THE SHERIFF IS STARING AT MY SADDLEBAG The only thing heavier than the bike was the cash in my saddlebag. I felt Sheriff Brody's cruiser before I saw it, that prickle on my neck. Then his lights flashed. My son, Kian, swore he was done. Done with the bets, done with the guys who break knees. Then came the sobbing phone call, and I knew. I had to go back. I walked right back into the clubhouse I'd sworn off six years ago and asked my old chapter president, Rhone,