Chapter 9 Seven #3
Home country? His mother was a citizen. Fucking asshole.
Just because they had family in another country didn’t mean they would flee.
He barely knew his cousins. They’d practically disowned his mother when she got pregnant out of wedlock.
His grandparents were still alive and living in Ohio somewhere, but Seven had never met them.
“Therefore, we request a high bail amount or that she’s remanded to custody until trial,” Hampton finished, looking satisfied with himself.
This was fucking crazy. How was this happening? His mother was a good person.
“Your Honor, as usual, ADA Hampton is grandstanding—”
“Me?” the man sputtered, turning an unflattering shade of red.
The court erupted in titters of laughter that quickly died.
Enzo ignored him. “May I remind opposing counsel that bail is not meant to be punitive but to ensure the defendant returns to court. Rumors in a gossip rag or terrible taste in men shouldn’t factor into a decision about bail.
Given the prosecution’s numerous divorces, I’d think he’d sympathize with my client on that front. ”
“Your Honor!” Hampton cried again, sounding like a child tattling in class.
Judge Olivera raised a brow at Enzo. “Cool it, Mr. Conti. It’s been a long day and you’re not as charming as you think you are.”
“Sorry, Your Honor,” he said, not fooling anyone with his overly apologetic tone.
“Ms. Gamal has been a dedicated employee at the Women’s Empowerment & Re-entry Center for over twenty years.
She’s a single mother, a longtime resident, and she has no prior criminal record.
She’s never even gotten a speeding ticket. ”
Enzo’s voice was like a balm on Seven’s raw nerves. He was always so cool, so confident…at least when it came to work.
“The prosecution is trying to paint my client as some kind of mobbed-up mastermind with a vault full of coins and secret underground escape tunnels. The evidence shows a woman who made a career out of helping underserved families. She ran coat drives and food banks, filled out grant paperwork in triplicate. She’s not Tony Soprano in Louboutins.
She’s a social worker with rent and a son in law school.
“She has strong ties to the community and she’s willing to surrender her passport immediately.
If the court deems it appropriate, she’s also open to electronic monitoring or weekly check-ins with a pretrial officer.
Asking for two million dollars in bail based solely on her personal relationships is not only excessive, it’s unconstitutional.
“The State has offered nothing but speculation and rumors. Ms. Gamal poses no flight risk and is no danger to the community. We respectfully request she be released on her own recognizance or, in the alternative, that bail be set at a reasonable amount that reflects her actual risk profile, not the prosecution’s reality TV narrative. ”
Please let this work. Please let this work. Please let this work. Please let this work.
Seven needed his mom home where he knew she was safe.
The judge sighed then took her glasses off, wiping them on her robe.
“I’m inclined to agree, Mr. Conti. After reviewing the charges and hearing arguments, the court finds that Ms. Gamal shows no significant flight risk.
” Seven’s heart soared, then plummeted as she continued.
“Bail’s set at fifty thousand, cash or bond. ”
The judge kept talking, but Seven turned inward, his thoughts going a mile a minute.
Fifty thousand dollars? It wasn’t two million, but it might as well have been.
What was the usual bond? Ten percent? But you had to offer something as collateral.
They didn’t own anything. Did they? No. Where was he going to get fifty thousand dollars?
The judge banged the gavel, making Seven jump, yanking him from his crash out. He watched Enzo and his mother chat quietly, dread hanging heavy on his shoulders like a cloak. They nodded and smiled at each other, chatting like old friends, then Enzo kissed her cheek.
His mother turned to him then, giving him a soft look and blowing him a kiss. He tried to return it but just…couldn’t. He could only nod in acknowledgement. The way her face fell gutted him. He was such an asshole.
He watched as they led her away. Once she was gone, Enzo strode to them then sat beside Seven, giving him a soft smile. “She’ll be out within the hour. Okay?”
“What? How?” Seven asked, bolting to his feet.
“They’re already working on the paperwork. She won’t be stuck here for the weekend. Hell, she won’t even be stuck here for the night,” Enzo said, as happy about this as Seven should have been. “She’ll be in a comfy bed before nightfall.”
Seven was shaking his head, gripping Enzo’s hands. “Enzo, I don’t have fifty thousand dollars. My mom doesn’t have fifty thousand dollars. We don’t own anything. I don’t own anything.”
Enzo frowned. “What are you talking about? It’s handled. Don’t worry about it. Mama and Rocco are gonna pick her up as soon as she’s processed, and then she’ll stay at my mom’s until the media frenzy dies down.”
“Oh,” Seven said dully.
It was handled? By who? Had Rocco paid his mother’s bail? Francesca? Thomas? Atticus?
Enzo glanced at Jericho and Freckles, who were now also on their feet.
“Seven can’t go back to their place. It’s bound to be swarmed with press.
I’ll take him home with me for a few weeks or however long it takes to get this mess sorted.
Do you think you can grab his personal belongings and have them sent here? ”
He pulled out a piece of paper with what Seven assumed was his address on it. Jericho turned to look at Seven. “Do you want to stay with Enzo? You know you’re welcome to stay with us.”
Enzo’s gaze jerked to Seven’s, like it hadn’t even occurred to him that Seven wouldn’t want to stay with him. “You can stay with Neith at my mom’s if that’s what you want. I just thought…” He trailed off, his cheeks flushing.
It hadn’t really occurred to Seven to stay anywhere else either. Still, he looked at Enzo. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Enzo’s gaze softened. “I wouldn’t have offered if I minded. Besides, your mom already said you could stay with me.”
Seven heard the sharp laugh before he realized it was his own. He really felt two seconds away from losing it. “You asked my mom for permission?”
Enzo’s brows creased. “Of course, I did. My mother would have slapped me if I didn’t at least check with your mother before I had her son living in sin.”
Seven huffed. “You’re ridiculous.”
Despite his words, Seven melted into Enzo’s chest, pressing his face into his sweater. The one Seven had asked him to wear. The one he’d worn without question just because he’d asked.
Jericho sounded worn out as he said, “There’s a car waiting for you out back. They’ll take you home. I’ll arrange for someone to transport your car back to your place so you can avoid the press. You have a private garage in your building, right?”
“Yeah. Even if they somehow make us out in this car, security won’t let them near us.” Enzo took Seven by the shoulders and spun him towards Jericho. “Can you keep an eye on him for a minute so I can go pay the court cashier?”
Jericho nodded, pulling Seven in. “Yeah, no problem.”
“Did he just say he was gonna go pay the court?” Seven mumbled against Jericho’s chest, inhaling the soothing scent of motor oil and brake dust.
He was so exhausted. He just wanted to lie down and sleep forever.
“Yeah, kid.”
Seven stepped back to meet Jericho’s gaze. “Where did my mom get fifty thousand dollars?”
Jericho and Freckles exchanged a long look before Jericho carefully said, “I’m pretty sure it’s Conti money.”
Seven shook his head. “That can’t be right. Who just has fifty thousand dollars at their disposal? Other than Mulvaneys, I mean.”
“The Contis are loaded,” Freckles said. “Don’t let Francesca’s ‘Mama’ facade fool you. That woman is ruthless when it comes to business and revenge. There’s a reason the cops are always trying to bring her family up on RICO charges. But she’s too slippery. They can’t prove a thing.”
“And she’s just going to give us fifty thousand dollars and expect nothing in return?” Seven asked.
“I said the Contis were rich, not that Francesca paid Neith’s bail,” Freckles hedged, once more looking at Jericho.
“I don’t understand?” Seven said, shaking his head.
Jericho gave him a strange look. “I don’t think it’s Francesca who paid your mom’s bail. I’m pretty sure it was Enzo.”
“No…” Seven said.
That couldn’t be true.
“Don’t look so stressed, kid,” Jericho murmured. “I doubt Enzo’s dipping into his 401k for this.”
“Yeah,” Freckles agreed. “That penthouse he lives in cost him almost four million dollars to renovate. And that’s on top of the cost to purchase and demo the entire top two floors of the building.”
Jericho gave his husband an amused look. “How do you know that?”
Freckles shrugged. “It was in Architectural Digest. Asa sent it to me because he knew I looked at one of the penthouses there before I settled on the one we live in now.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Asa,” Jericho muttered.
Seven huffed out a humorless laugh. He really was Enzo’s sugar baby, after all.