Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
I’m married. Not how I pictured marrying Frankie. I had an image of her in a white dress being walked down the aisle by her reluctant and very pissed-off father. I’d pictured us declaring our love for each other in front of all of our friends and family.
I never thought it would happen, not after she was so adamant about never getting married and what she refers to as being owned.
I was shocked and then angry when I saw the papers.
I didn’t believe for a second that this could have been Frankie’s idea.
I had pictured my father forcing her, or one of my brothers coming up with the suggestion.
When she said it was hers, I think I almost fell out of my chair. She wanted to marry me. I couldn’t be fucking happier.
“Most people facing murder charges don’t smile like that.” Matteo points at my face.
“I just got the girl,” I tell him. “What’s not to be happy about?”
He shakes his head. “When we go to court, you need to sit there and only speak when I give the okay.”
“You think I’ll get bail?”
“Yes. It won’t be cheap, but I happen to know they’re revenue raising in this state right now. I also have friends in high places and those friends owe me a favor or two.” He shrugs. “You will have to hand over your passport and agree to not leave the country.”
“Easy,” I say. “What are the actual chances of me getting out of this without doing time?” If I have to take my wife and disappear with new identities to some country that doesn’t have extradition agreements, I will. I don’t need a passport to leave the country. We both know that.
“I’ve heard they’re having trouble locating the murder weapon,” Matteo says.
“Really? Someone doesn’t know how to file evidence away.”
“Something like that.” He grins. “There’s also no CCTV from that lecture room, and the witness is your wife.”
“So, really, they just have an innocent bystander who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“There’s the tiny matter of you confessing,” he reminds me.
“I was out of my mind with shock. I’ve never seen so much blood before. I panicked and didn’t want to get shot by the cops. That happens a lot here, you know.”
Matteo blinks at me. “That might actually work,” he says, sounding surprised. “If we need to go down that road, I have a strategy I’m going to try.”
“Care to share it with me?” I ask.
“They have nothing concrete. They have circumstantial evidence at best. I’m going to argue they’ve charged you prematurely. They won’t be able to present probable cause to the judge and he’ll have to throw the case out.”
“Okay, let’s go with that,” I agree.
“They still have the body. What are the chances of them finding your prints on that body?”
“Zero. I never touched him.”
“What about Frankie’s?” he presses.
I recall the events of yesterday, seeing Frankie being grabbed by the guy. I didn’t see her touch him directly. She stabbed him twice but I don’t think her hands ever touched his body or his clothing. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think? We need more than that.”
“He grabbed her. She had a knife in her hand already, and she used it. Once in his leg. Then she spun and hit his neck,” I tell Matteo.
“But if you try to use this information to get me off these charges, I will deny it and come after your entire fucking bloodline. I do not want my wife being used as an alternate suspect. I would rather rot in a cell for the rest of my life.”
“Threaten my family again, Emilio, and you’ll need to find yourself a new lawyer,” Matteo warns. “I’m not your enemy here.”
“I know.” I lift a single shoulder. “I just want to make it clear that Frankie is off-limits.”
“I’m aware,” he says.
Twenty fucking hours. That’s how long I’ve been sitting in this shithole cell with a fucker who, at first, wouldn’t shut the fuck up. He quickly learned not to fucking talk to me after I knocked him out cold.
I don’t give a fuck who he is, or who he thinks he is. I have family here. Guys who are loyal to my father and therefore loyal to me. I’ll survive if I have to stay inside. More than that, I’ll probably end up running the joint. Not that I plan on staying here long.
“Lopez.” A prison guard bangs on the metal bars of the cell. “You’re up for transportation to court.”
I get cuffed, both wrists and ankles. I chuckle at the guard. If they think that would stop me from being able to snap their necks, they’re fucking idiots. Of course I keep these thoughts to myself. I’m not going to risk a chance at seeing Frankie.
My wife. I smile. I have a wife.
It still feels like a dream. Apart from the me being in prison thing. The rest, Frankie being my wife, that’s a fucking dream come true.
I get shoved into a bus along with three other guys, all being transported to the courthouse. Once we’re there, we’re taken to a holding cell.
An hour later, Matteo appears, and a guard escorts us to a room where I’m given some clothes to change into. “Your mother sure does know how to pick a good suit,” Matteo says.
“It’s her job to know it,” I remind him. My mother’s company, Evie’s Vault, has stores across the country, mostly focusing on women’s attire but she lives and breathes fashion.
“Remember, speak when spoken to,” Matteo says.
“Got it.” I nod. “Is my wife out there?” I know I told her to stay home, but I’m anxious to see her too.
“Yes, your whole family is, as well as hers.”
“Full court then.” I chuckle.
“It is.” He nods. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I tug on the sleeve of my dress shirt before I’m escorted into the courtroom.
My eyes scan every face until they land on hers. She looks just about ready to cry, and it breaks my fucking heart. I wink at her and get a small smile back in return.
My mother is holding on to my father. Elias is standing on her other side. She looks just as distraught as Frankie does.
I sit down next to Matteo and Olivia at the defendant’s table.
“All rise for Judge Hullen.”
I stand, along with my lawyers and the prosecution.
“Please be seated,” the judge says as he takes his fucking throne. “Call the matter.”
“This is the matter of the State of Las Vegas versus Emilio Lopez, regarding an application for bail.”
There’s some more bullshit said between the judge and the lawyers before Matteo speaks again. “Your Honor, the defense wants it to be known that suspicion, no matter how strong, is not basis enough to sustain a criminal prosecution.”
“Your point, Mr. Valentino?” The judge raises a brow.
“Your Honor, the defense argues that the prosecution’s case is fundamentally deficient and incapable of establishing a case against my client.
They have not been able to supply evidential reason for the arrest, other than the fact my client was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
There is no murder weapon recorded. My clients fingerprints have not been found on the victim or items belonging to the victim. ”
“Your Honor, the suspect admitted to the crime to the officers on the scene,” the prosecutor counters.
“My client was afraid. He’d just seen his first dead body.
There was a lot of blood. That can be shocking to any man.
He said what he thought he needed to say in order to pacify the officers on the scene, as they were agitated and aggressive.
We all know what happens in this city when officers are agitated.
People, innocent people, get shot,” Matteo argues.
“The fact of the matter is the prosecution cannot confirm whether their evidence exists. A properly-instructed jury could never safely convict beyond reasonable doubt. We submit to the court that this threshold has not been met and respectfully seek that the charges be dismissed.”
Matteo sits back down. But the prosecutor stands. His face is beet red. He’s mad. “You can’t be fucking serious. He was there. He admitted to the crime. We had the murder weapon, Your Honor,” he yells.
“Order. Don’t make me hold you in contempt. Is there or is there not a murder weapon?” The judge looks between the opposing sides.
“We are having trouble locating it at the moment,” the prosecutor finally admits.
“Is there any other evidence that would prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the suspect is in fact the culprit?” the judge asks point-blank.
“He confessed, Your Honor,” the prosecution repeats.
“Under duress. Without evidence, you have no right to apply charges. Find the evidence and then you will have a case. Until then, case dismissed.” The gavel bangs down on the wood, and I stare in disbelief.
Holy shit. That actually worked? I hoped it would. I didn’t expect it to, though.
“I think you need a pay raise,” I whisper to Matteo.
“What I need is fucking retirement, and you assholes need to stop getting caught,” he grunts.