Chapter 9 Seven #2
Francesca and his mother’s friendship wasn’t exactly new information. They’d been acquaintances before they’d joined forces and had only grown closer.
Apparently, Freckles wasn’t done yet. “Your best friend is also a Mulvaney and you guys have a fan base with your channel.”
Enzo looked at him. “Channel?”
“Seven and the other boys have been playing a game called Paladin for what? Ten years? Fifteen?” Jericho answered.
“They have a guild: Knights of the Kids’ Table.
They’ve gotten pretty popular, not just because of Felix but because their guild has been around so long.
But when my brother went from Felix Navarro to Felix Navarro Mulvaney, fashion designer, they definitely started to get more attention online. ”
Seven stared at Jericho with wide eyes. “I can’t believe you know all that.”
Jericho looked hurt. “I know about all the stuff that’s important to you.”
Seven felt a sob building and covered it with a cough. “I doubt the press cares enough about our little guild to know who I am. Someone had to have tipped them off about this. It hasn’t even been two hours.”
“Probably whoever’s responsible for framing Neith in the first place,” Freckles mused. “Create chaos, muddy the waters. Give the DA a reason to deny bail.”
“They won’t do that, will they?” Seven asked, jerking his head to look at Enzo.
“I’m not gonna let that happen. But we need to move to the courthouse.
If I’m late, Olivera will be a nightmare.
” Enzo looked at Jericho and Freckles. “You know the drill.” To Seven, he said, “Keep your head down. Stay glued to my side. Say nothing. They’re gonna try to bait you.
Don’t let them. It’ll be hard but just…hang in there. ”
Seven nodded, then let Enzo guide him past the guards and out the double doors.
He blinked rapidly, his brain telling him to freeze, but he couldn’t.
Enzo was propelling him forward with a tight arm around his shoulders, fingers digging into his biceps.
Seven squinted against the midday sun, raising his hand so he could see in front of him.
It was like something out of a movie. The reporters were like a hoard of zombies, closing in on him. How were there so many of them? Did their city even have this many news channels?
Enzo hugged him close. Jericho remained plastered to his right side, walking in lockstep with him. Freckles was behind him. But there was nobody to stop the crush of reporters walking backwards across the street as they shoved microphones in his face and shouted over each other.
“Did your mom steal that money?”
“Is it true she’s ‘the Ledger’s’ ex-wife?”
“Does that make him your father?”
“If your mom didn’t steal that money, how is she able to afford Lorenzo Conti as her attorney?”
“Is it true she’s connected to the Contis?”
“Is it true she’s dating Rocco Conti?”
Seven’s head snapped up. “What?”
“Ignore them,” Enzo muttered into his ear. “Keep walking.”
How did he ignore them? How did they know all this? Who tipped them off? And why?
“Is this Conti family loyalty or just family business?”
“Why are the Mulvaneys involved?”
“Atticus, are you covering the bill for this?”
Finally, they reached the inside of the courthouse.
Seven had never been so happy to see a Sheriff’s Deputy standing next to a metal detector.
They all dropped their devices into the little bin and walked through the scanner.
Seven’s belt triggered the machine so the deputy wanded him, then waved him through.
Once Enzo grabbed their belongings and stuffed them in his bag, he took Seven’s arm and speed-walked them to the courtroom.
Seven just…went. He let Enzo guide him, then sat on the wooden pew where the older man deposited him.
It was relatively empty. Enzo sat beside him.
A moment later, Jericho and Freckles joined them.
The judge in the case looked like she was in her sixties.
She had black hair and tan skin and glasses that perched on the tip of her perfectly straight nose.
Her name plate said Hon. Christina Olivera.
She looked bored. She was chatting with her bailiff—a tall, skinny man who looked like Lurch from The Addams Family—and the court stenographer—who looked like Ms. Frizzle from The Magic School Bus.
Seven fought the urge to laugh, afraid that if he started he might not stop. The door behind the judge opened, and a deputy led in a defendant in an orange jumpsuit. The judge immediately broke off their conversation to give them her full attention.
Seven zoned out as the judge set bail for three more people, two in orange jumpsuits and one in street clothes. Would his mom be in an orange jumpsuit like his dad? Seven’s stomach heaved at the idea. At least he hadn’t eaten in hours. There was nothing to throw up.
He dug his thumbs into his closed eyes, the pressure temporarily causing sparks behind his eyelids, distracting him for a few precious seconds.
But when he opened his eyes, they were still there.
Still in this stupid fucking courtroom. Still waiting for a bunch of strangers to decide his mother’s fate.
His breath caught as the door opened and the deputy walked his mother in.
His lungs seized as his eyes fell to the handcuffs around her wrists.
She was still in her work clothes, a black pencil skirt with a red blouse with a giant bow at the neck.
She was wearing flip-flops instead of the heels she’d had on that morning.
It was clear she’d been crying, but other than that, she was flawless.
Even the judge looked surprised.
Enzo stood and walked to the front, pushing past the swinging gate to meet his mom at the podium.
“Who have we here?” the judge asked, staring at Seven’s mother over her glasses.
The bailiff glanced down. “The State vs. Neith Gamal. One count felony embezzlement. Here to set bail.”
“Way to mix it up, Ms. Gamal. It’s been robberies, homicide, and carjackings all day. Right, Paul?” The bailiff—presumably Paul—nodded. To his mom, she said, “Cute top.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Neith said softly, giving a side-eye to Enzo, who smiled at her.
A man Seven hadn’t noticed before stood up.
He wore a tan suit with a white button-down shirt and a tie that was the same naked mole rat pink as his skin.
He had strawberry blond hair that was making a run for the back of his head and watery eyes that made him look like he was having an allergy attack. Hell, maybe he was.
“ADA Dorian Hampton for the state, Your Honor,” the man said, his voice high but sharp.
“Lorenzo Conti for Ms. Gamal, Your Honor.”
The judge gave Enzo a sardonic look. “Mr. Conti. Haven’t seen you in my courtroom in a minute.”
Enzo chuckled. “Aw, did you miss me, Your Honor?”
“No,” she said flatly, though she was clearly biting back a smile. “Proceed, Mr. Hampton.”
The prosecutor nodded, opening a file folder on his desk, then squinting at it like he’d forgotten his glasses.
“Thank you, Your Honor. The State is requesting that bail be set at two million dollars”—Seven couldn’t stop his choked gasp—“based on both the severity of the charges and the defendant’s significant flight risk. ”
Jericho’s hand landed on his leg and squeezed. Seven closed his eyes and tried to find some sense of inner peace.
“That’s excessive, even for you, Dorian,” Enzo interrupted.
The prosecutor gave him a withering look. “It’s ADA Hampton to you.”
“Oh, don’t be like that, Dorian,” Enzo taunted. “We’re all friends here.”
“Your Honor!” Dorian cried, all but stomping his foot.
Just a few hours ago, Seven had been killing it during his mock trial. Now, he was there in a real one. Had that only been this morning? It felt like days ago. Seven’s eyes felt like sandpaper. He was so tired.
“Mr. Conti,” Judge Olivera chastised. “Stop picking on him.”
“Your Honor,” Hampton all but whined.
“What?” Judge Olivera asked innocently. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I just want him to act like a professional,” Hampton fired back.
“You’re aiming too high,” she retorted. “Now, can we get on with this?”
Hampton huffed. “Ms. Gamal is charged with felony embezzlement of just over $1.3 million in charitable and public funds. Evidence includes a detailed paper trail, electronic communications, an in-depth analysis by a forensic accountant, and witness testimony indicating she was behind the scheme.”
Witness testimony? What witness? Enzo seemed unbothered by this information. Had he already known this? Had Neith told him that in their meeting?
“The defendant has close ties to several individuals who are either currently incarcerated or under active investigation for organized criminal activity. Her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Stanley ‘The Ledger’ Symanski, is a known bookie with multiple felony convictions and a list of clients that mysteriously go missing when they don’t pay up.
“She’s also involved with opposing counsel’s shady uncle, Rocco Conti, who—as you know, Your Honor—is widely suspected of being involved in racketeering operations under the guise of community outreach.”
Judge Olivera rolled her eyes. “We can do without the colorful commentary, Mr. Hampton.”
Enzo shrugged. “It’s fine, Your Honor. Rocco’s been called worse—as you know, Your Honor,” he said, mocking Hampton to his face.
Was his mother really dating Rocco Conti? She just couldn’t resist a criminal. But Enzo wasn’t exactly squeaky clean. That was what Seven loved about him.
Liked.
Liked about him.
Hampton looked down at his file again. “Additionally, Ms. Gamal has access to substantial off-book financial resources through her long-standing relationship with both the Conti and Mulvaney families. She also has several family members living in Cairo. This leads the State to believe the defendant poses a credible flight risk given her access to money and her ties to her home country.”