Page 80 of Possession

She tweaked his tie just a little and then gave his lapels a quick brush. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

He snorted but did as he was told, pulling open the door and striding inside. A man he recognized but wasn’t sure of his name or business was standing at his seat, addressing the rest of the room, but his words died off as Tomas marched up to the front where the president resided and planted himself next to his chair. George, who owned a local grocery store, had been president of the Chamber of Commerce in Ridgewood for the last three years. For the most part, Tomas thought he did a decent job. Didn’t shoot down people’s ideas but kept the older, more traditional men and women from being too overwhelmed by new and innovative concepts.

“This will only take a second, George.” Tomas clasped his shoulder.

“Everything okay, Tomas?” he asked and gave a nervous smile to the rest of the room.

“Not really, but I’m hoping it will be soon.”

He looked out at the gathered group, making eye contact with folks he knew, nodding at a few. Jill and her husband were sitting near the back. She looked worried, but when she glanced at Cyn and found her grinning where she had parked herself against a wall, her face relaxed into acceptance.

“I apologize for interrupting,” he said, acknowledging the man who’d been speaking as he slowly sank back onto his chair, looking bewildered. He swept his gaze over the crowd one more time. “This will only take a moment. You all know who I am, right?”

A few people shifted uncomfortably while others murmured an ascent, but he did notice there were some faces who genuinely seemed confused as they shook their heads.

Fair enough.

He didn’t often speak at the Chamber meetings, preferring to conduct his business more quietly. He’d reach out to other business owners as he needed, but otherwise, the MC found they could accomplish more without a spotlight on them.

“My name is Tomas Ortiz. I am third-generation Mexican American. My family has lived in this area for half a century. I own or am part owner of multiple businesses in the area, and I am also the President of the Devil’s Hands Motorcycle Club, Michigan chapter.”

There was louder murmuring after that, people glancing at each other.

“Some of you already knew that because some of you are very familiar with me and my club and the things we do. The people we help.” He made eye contact with the director of SAVE, Gayle Heller, where she sat to his right, halfway back. She had a stricken look on her face, like she knew something terrible had happened. “But some of you don’t know, so I want to be extremely clear. My MC and I are active members in this community. We eat at local restaurants, we shop at local stores, and we volunteer with local organizations.

“Now, you might be asking yourself why I am bringing this up. Why am I standing before you, telling you about the impact my club has had on our town and the surrounding area.” He held eye contact with the woman who owned the bakery that had refused the club’s business for one of their fundraisers. Then he found the guilty gaze of a deputy, who was there on behalf of his family’s feed store but had been parking himself across the road from the Devil’s Garrote and pulling over members for no reason the last two weeks. “But others… you know. You’ve seen it. You’ve heard rumors about people we’ve helped. And a lot of you knew when the new mayor and Sheriff Winters were running for election in November that when they talked about the ‘threat of violence’ in our community, what they were talking aboutwas me and my people, who have never caused any trouble for anyone in this room.”

Someone in the back stood up and walked toward the door, but Cynthia slid in front of the exit, holding the angry man’s eyes until he huffed and returned to his seat. Tomas didn’t recognize him, but he recognized the look of disgust on his face.

“But,” he continued, “we sure as shit have helped a lot of you. Anytime you called, anytime you approached me after a Chamber meeting, we said yes without question or hesitation. And yet, I know many of you support the mayor and the sheriff and have turned a blind eye to the harassment they’ve been giving the Devil’s Hands, acting like it’s harmless.” He crossed his arms over his chest, fury still burning inside him. “Or maybe you believe it’s what we deserve, that we’ve brought this abuse on ourselves. But I want to ask you: are you ready to lose our support?”

Several people spoke softly, glancing around at their friends and neighbors around them, not understanding what he was getting at.

“This town, our businesses—” He gestured at the room as a whole. “—they’rethriving, and a part of that is because of the money my club spends and the businesses we own and run, providing housing and entertainment and food. Because of the volunteer work we do and events we organize. I want you to ask yourselves what this town would look like if my club and I packed up and left. Because this isn’t some action movie where the motorcycle club fights it out with law enforcement for control of the town. If we’re not wanted in this community anymore, then we will fucking leave.” He pointed at the door, and when a few people glanced in that direction automatically, Cyn wiggled her fingers at them. “We’ll take our revenue and our businesses and our commitment to fostering community somewhere it’s wanted and appreciated.”

“Now, Tomas,” George said, climbing to his feet slowly and stepping up next to Tomas. He’d moved forward, getting closer to the rows of chairs as he’d gotten more passionate, and now it was George’s turn to put a hand on his arm, doing his best to diffuse the situation. “I don’t think all of that will be necessary. We appreciate that you and your club are good, law-abiding citizens, and we want you to continue being valuable members of our community.”

“Some of you don’t,” Tomas said, shaking off his hand and narrowing his eyes at the president. “Some of you have stood by and allowed the sheriff and his deputies to harass us, to pressure other local officials to try and drive us out. Again, I say, if you don’t want us here, we will leave, but you better be fucking sure because once we go, there will be no coming back. We will take our fundraisers and our money, and we will go somewhere else.

“But if you want us to stay…” He took a breath, attempting to cool the ire eating at his insides. “Then you need to stand by us and help us fight back. You need to let the mayor and the sheriff know you won’t just sit by and allow them to drive us out. You need to tell them—and others in the community—that you appreciate the work we do and the kind of people we are. And you’ve got to decide now.”

He turned to leave, more than ready to be done with the entire situation and go home. He hadn’t laid eyes on his boys since the night before, and he knew they had to be worried sick. But he’d had to do this. After his bullshit arrest, he knew the club couldn’t keep quietly fighting on their own.

But he couldn’t force the rest of the town to stand up for them.

The best he could do, what he’d attempted to do anyway, was let them know what the consequences would be if the harassment wouldn’t stop. And he wasn’t bluffing. He was prepared to suggest their chapter move at Church tomorrow. Itwould be tough, and he knew they’d lose some members who were tied too closely to the town to just pack up and leave, but he also knew that they could and would do it if they had to. If it was the only way to keep the club—and their families—safe.

He only made it halfway to the door before he heard a familiar, heavily accented voice.

“I want you to stay.” Tomas turned and met Fernando’s eyes where he stood in the middle of the group. He was wearing a T-shirt with the name of his restaurant on it, his chin held high. “You and your boys come into my place regularly. You treat my staff very well. You tip generously, even when I comp your meals,” he added with a smile. Fernando glanced around at the others watching him curiously and said in a conspiratorial voice, “When Tomas comes in, I usually comp his meal, and he always leaves such a big tip the servers fight for his business the next time he’s there.”

Tomas felt his cheeks begin to heat, and he couldn’t believe he was fucking blushing in front of the Chamber of Commerce members. He’d always loved Fernando’s place, where he made real, authentic Mexican food. And he reminded Tomas a little of his dad, so proud and kind.

Fernando looked at him again and said, “Me and my business want you to stay. We stand by you.”

Fernando sat, and Tomas nodded at him, appreciative that he’d spoken up but doubting others would. He’d texted his sister on the drive to the meeting, letting her know he was coming and what he was going to say. He’d also demanded she not speak up or get involved. After the diner getting dinged by the health department, he didn’t want her making waves and creating an even bigger target on her back.

He’d just reached Cynthia, who gave him a double thumbs-up, when a feminine voice spoke up.

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