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 motherreallydating Rocco Conti? She just couldn’t resist a criminal. But Enzo wasn’t exactly squeaky clean. That was what Seven loved about him.
