Page 32 of Luca
“Pissed off, but safe. I’ve got her staying here with us. However, she also received a threatening text telling her to backoff, or she’d be next. Marko traced it back to a burner phone, so we’ve no idea who sent it.”
Guilt clawed at me. This was my fault.
“Make sure she stays away from the prison,” I urged, my voice tight. “I can’t trust her safety if she comes here before the pre-trial.”
“She’s safe at the Estate,” Miki assured me. “I’ve got Vlad assigned to her at all times and when he’s not there, Trigger, or one of us, will be. Got a couple of guys on Brad, too.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. The knowledge that she was under Miki’s protection kept me grounded. But my thoughts spiralled back to the threat looming over her.
“Good. Just make sure they stay discreet, she won’t like the fact she’s got bodyguards trailing her every move, no matter how much it’s for her own good. She’s likely to act up if they cause a scene or make themselves too obvious. She needs to be protected despite herself, I can’t lose her, Miki.”
“I’ve got it covered, Luca, just concentrate on your own safety and I’ll take care of Claire. I don’t want anything happening to either of you,” Miki replied, his voice steady but laced with urgency.
“I’ll see you at the pre-trial hearing. Keep your head down until then,” he said before the phone went dead.
After he’d hung up, anger pressed down on me like a ton of bricks. That fucking MP needed to be dealt with. His trial was set for three months from now; and it couldn’t come soon enough. No doubt the arrogant bastard still thought he’d find a way out of his charges, but he wouldn’t. There was far too much evidence against him. Also, Marko was about to hit the final nail in his coffin, by sending the prosecutor a whole new set of evidence we’d managed to uncover after we’d sent the first lot.
There was no doubt about it, he was going down. Once convicted, he would likely end up in Belmarsh or Wakefield, where some of our allies had connections in place to ensure he was taken care of. I wouldn’t rest until that was sorted. The need for revenge on the fucker was nearly driving me crazy.
The day finally arrived, and I was taken over to the court for the preliminary hearing. Sean and Finn said a quick goodbye before I left. They didn’t expect me to return, and I hoped they were right. I’d been safe with them backing me up, but both were up for trial next week, and rumour had it they’d get out. If they did and I didn’t, it would mean I’d be back to square one—open to attack again.
The Irish Mafia had a couple of other guys in on remand, too; they’d been around helping watch my back, but I didn’t know them as well. I wasn’t about to rely on them. No, I needed to get out today.
Claire was there with the rest of the gang—even Marcie and Derrick had shown up. Seeing my Bratva Blood Brothers and friends there, rooting for me, felt good.
My Little Miss Sexy Ass gave me a small smile. She looked worried, and I hoped it was just the fact she had to face her corrupt mentor today, not because she thought I wouldn’t get bailed after all.
The judge entered, and Claire began presenting my case for revoking remand and granting bail. She reiterated her previous arguments but emphasised the recent attack against me as further justification.
“The refusal to grant bail to my client after his arrest resulted in an attack that left him with several injuries, one requiringstitches, putting his life in serious jeopardy. I am requesting bail again and assert that, under these circumstances, there is no valid reason for it to be denied.”
The judge’s expression soured, her eyes glinting dangerously as Claire pressed on.
“I must remind you that, given the current media scrutiny facing the Crown Prosecution Service, denying bail in this instance could provoke even greater interest. The public was outraged when a judge granted bail to an MP accused of multiple counts of kidnap, rape, and murder, with compelling evidence against him. It would be even more concerning if the same judge denied bail to a businessman facing only one count of rape and murder, where the evidence is flimsy at best.”
It was a bold move, and I couldn’t suppress a smirk. My woman knew exactly where to strike. She was playing hardball. Elizabeth Traynor’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Claire, clearly displeased by this unexpected turn of events.
Claire held her ground, meeting her gaze defiantly. A silent exchange passed between them before the judge glanced down at her paperwork, scribbling notes. I caught the faintest hint of a smirk on Claire’s lips—a barely there expression, but I saw it. She knew she’d won.
My Little Miss Sexy Ass had a competitive streak, and she played to win. It was one of the many things I loved about her. A wicked thought crossed my mind, and I bit back my own smirk as I awaited my fate.
The judge was caught between a rock and a hard place. Granting me bail would anger whoever had insisted she refuse it in the first place, while refusing it would open her up to media scrutiny, possibly exposing her own corruption. She was bound to lose either way. I found myself wondering what she feared more—the MP or the media.
A couple of minutes later, I had my answer. The trial was set for six weeks from now, and bail was granted.
Yes!
Claire beamed at me, and I grinned back. I wanted to kiss her right there, but that would have to wait. As I’d promised myself before, as soon as I got out of here, that’s exactly what I was going to do.
I was escorted back downstairs for my release to be processed. Thank God. I couldn’t wait to reclaim my freedom, and once I had it, I intended to hold on tight.
When I was first remanded, I knew being locked up would be hard, but I didn’t realise just how suffocating it would feel, even with the O’Briens around. I knew I never wanted to return. They say, “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time,” but my dad and Miki’s had a better saying: If you’re going to commit a crime, don’t get caught.
Being born into the Bratva meant avoiding crime was impossible, making that motto a far better guide. Sure, not committing any would be ideal, but the likelihood of that was almost laughable. Still, shifting our focus from illegal dealings to white-collar crime would certainly ease the burden.
Miki would still call on me when needed, but with less overt criminal activity on the table, that demand would decrease significantly. Especially after we finally got rid of the MP. Then maybe Claire could see past my Bratva connections.
Suddenly, Miki’s push to legitimise us took on a whole new significance. I needed to encourage him to ally with the O’Briens and offload as much of our dirtier business as possible.